There were little notes jotted on the backs of each photograph. Just a brief sentence or two, detailing what she had been doing when the picture was taken.
It was all extremely organized and professional, just the way she imagined a private investigator would track a subject. Exactly what she would expect from a marine turned chief of security.
But Jackson never would have made those obscene phone calls. Nor would he have sent her those vile pictures of male body parts.
Would he?
Jackson had been absent from her life for so many years, she really didn't know how the war might have changed him.
She could hear Peter’s nagging voice in her head, droning on about how war would sometimes warp the personalities of the soldiers. Often, they came home with terrible depression, anxiety, post-traumatic stress, and a number of other mental or emotional troubles.
Was it possible that war had changed Jackson so much? She hadn’t really seen or talked to him since she was in high school and he was just preparing to enlist. During the rare occasions when he’d been on leave, he’d always avoided her.
Remi claimed that he’d grown up a lot during his two tours, but she’d never said anything about any kind of psychological break. No reason why he would suddenly want to take pictures of his genitals and send them to a person he’d spent over two decades avoiding.
She couldn't wrap her mind around any of it, but she was sure of one thing, she needed to hear Jackson's side of the story before she made any decisions on how to proceed.
She started collecting all of the photographs and tucking them back into the folder they'd slipped out of when she'd so hastily opened the drawer.
An abrupt knock on the door nearly startled her out of her skin, but she managed to recover in time to close the drawer before Remi burst into the bungalow.
“Oh, damn, you're already awake,” Remi laughed, “I was hoping to catch the two of you naked in bed, for some blackmail photos.”
Jenn startled again at the mention of photos, but she managed a wan smile.
“Sorry to burst your bubble, and… ew!”
“Exactly! Come on, I've got a big day planned. Jackson can catch up, he knows the way.”
“Actually, I kind of needed to talk to him first,” Jenn began, but Remi was already grabbing her hand and pulling her towards the door.
“You can talk to him tonight. We agreed, I get you during the day, he can have you after the sun goes down.” Remi gave her a bawdy wink as she continued pulling Jenn towards the door.
“At least let me get dressed!” Jenn protested.
Remi glanced down at Jenn’s cotton shorts and ratty tank top, then gave a dramatic sigh and released her.
“Fine, but hurry up, and tell that lazy brother of mine to get his ass up and moving. He should be serving you breakfast in bed, after all he's put you through.”
If you only knew the half of it, Jenn thought, feeling her heart breaking a little at the possibility of Jackson being behind so many horrible, sleepless nights in New York. All of her fear. All of the months filled with dread. She wasn't sure she could handle the truth, but she was damn sure she'd get it as soon as she had Jackson alone.
Unfortunately, that would have to be another time. As she reached for the bedroom door, it opened and Jackson stepped out, already dressed.
“Sorry, I didn't hear you get up.” He smiled, but Jenn avoided his gaze, ducking under his arm and heading straight for her luggage. She wasn't sure she if she could bear to have him touch her right now.
She wasn't sure how she was going to get through this day. All she could think about were the photographs. She could only hope that Jackson stayed true to form in his pretense of keeping her safe, by following her from a distance. She needed to keep an eye on him.
His behavior the last few days had been suspicious, to say the least. He claimed he was following her, but she never saw him. Then yesterday he'd practically abandoned her and Remi at the tree house, before warping into the prince of seduction in the shower.
Was he trying to use sex to distract her? If so, what was he trying to hide? Aside from the damning photographs he had in his kitchen drawer.
She needed to talk to him alone, without Remi hovering nearby. Until that happened, she needed her space. But she couldn't help dreading the confrontation that was coming. It twisted at her gut and made every passing hour feel like an eternity.
By the time dusk finally arrived, she was absolutely sick with dread, dragging her feet as Remi headed back down the path from the lodge to Jackson’s secluded bungalow.
She didn’t think Jackson would really hurt her, but she knew that unless he had a very good reason for what he’d done, it was the end of their relationship before it ever really had a chance to begin. If it could even be called a relationship.
She’d go back to New York and burn the box full of letters and photographs she’d collected for the police. Then she’d do her best to pick up the shattered pieces of her heart.
Who knew betrayal could hurt this much?
She caught Remi watching her as she unlocked the door.
“Are you okay, Jenn? You look like you’re going to throw up. Maybe we shouldn’t have had that second helping of mango ice cream?”
“I do feel nauseous,” she agreed, but it didn’t have anything to do with the food they’d eaten.
Stepping quickly inside, she looked around and found that Jackson wasn’t in the bungalow. She felt a rush of dread, knowing that she hadn't seen him for hours. That was far too long of a disappearance. Something was wrong, she could feel it.
She couldn’t get rid of Remi fast enough, practically shoving her best friend out the door with excuses that she was going to be sick and needed to be alone.
As soon as Remi was gone, Jenn hurried to the kitchen drawer. Yanking it open, she found the file gone and the drawer empty.
The bungalow door abruptly opened behind her and she stood to confront the man who had entered.
“Where did you hide them?” She demanded, the pain nearly blinding her. “Jeez, Jackson, I trusted you! I slept with you! How could you look me in the eyes and lie like that? Pretending like you were the big hero marine that was going to keep me safe. That is really sick!”
His expression went stone cold as he silently closed the door behind him.
“What happened?” He demanded in a muted growl. “What are you talking about?”
“The pictures, Jackson! The file you’ve been keeping on me, full of photographs and notes about where I went and what I was doing.” She slammed shut the now empty drawer and folded her arms over her chest, fiercely trying to hold in all the shattered pieces of her heart. “I just need to know one thing, who is your partner in New York? I know it wasn’t you sending me the dick pics, so it must have been whoever you had following me. Who was it?”
“What the hell are you talking about?” His hands curled into white knuckled fists at his sides, but he held his position in front of the door, blocking the only path of escape.
“Just tell me the truth,” she demanded, scrubbing away the tears which were threatening to blind her. If nothing else, she at least deserved to now why he'd done what he'd done. Maybe she could understand, if she just heard his reason. If he would just be honest with her. Maybe they could still salvage something of their relationship. A neutral place which would allow her to continue her friendship with his sister and not make future interactions between them feel so terrible.
“The truth is, I have no fucking clue what you’re talking about,” Jackson snarled, shattering the last of her hope.
It killed her how easily he could lie to her.
“I saw the folder, Jackson,” she sighed, calling him out. “It was right here this morning. You must have moved it after Remi and I left, during those hours when you claimed you would be following us, keeping us safe.”
His fierce gaze flashed from her to the drawer, as a flicker of surprise crossed his face.
“You saw the pictures, in there?”
Jenn nodded, wishing desperately for all of this to be over. She just couldn't bear it any longer. It hurt to much. Of all the men in her life, she'd cared for this one the most. His betrayal cut her deep.
“It was here when I left with Remi this morning.” Her voice sounded hollow, even to her. “Only you and Remi have keys, but Remi has been with me all day.”
She watched as he uncurled one fist to look down at the keys he still held. Then he glanced towards the door, which had automatically locked once more behind him.
“I looked for you today,” she admitted, feeling sad. “You vanished, for hours, just like yesterday, and the day before. Where do you go, Jackson? Is this all just some kind of game to you? Something to keep you entertained until you are called back to active duty?”
His expression was hard and unreadable, the emotionless marine, as he met her eyes and shook his head.
“Are you sure you saw a folder full of pictures in that drawer?”
“Are you kidding me?” She snapped. “Are you really going to pretend that I hallucinated the whole thing? Are you trying to make me believe that I’m crazy? Because you and your sick partner have certainly driven me right to the edge over these last few months!”
He shook his head and took a step towards her, but she held out her hands to ward him off.
“No! You don’t get near me! Not until you tell me why you did it. Tell me, Jackson. Please!” She was begging him now. Begging him to give her an answer that made sense. “Maybe you hired the investigator to keep tabs on me because you were worried about me? But the creep investigator got too caught up in his game? Is that what happened?”
She wanted to believe that it was anything else. Anything, but that Jackson was a battle-warped deviant who just couldn’t get military ops out of his blood and needed something to entertain himself after he’d entered the private sector.
As she counted back the months, she realized the timeline was too perfect. The first letters had started to arrive just after Jackson would have finished his second tour.
“No,” Jackson’s voice was pure ice. “That’s not what happened.”
“Then tell me the truth. Why? Why would you do this?”
“I didn’t do it. I do keep a lot of files in the kitchen, but none of them contain photographs of you. The only picture I have of you, is the framed one... there,” he pointed to the desk. “That’s the truth.”
An agonizing lump threatened to choke her as hot tears continued to leak down her cheeks.
She wanted to believe him, that was the worst part. She would rather believe that she’d hallucinated the folder, than that Jackson was lying to her. But she couldn’t deny what she’d seen and held in her hands only a few hours before.
Half blinded by her tears, she shoved past him and headed for the bedroom.
Stumbling, fumbling with numb hands, she collected her things and shoved them ruthlessly back into her suitcases. She thought of the first night she’d spent in the rainforest, when the photograph had been slid under her door.
Jackson had knocked on her door, not more than a few seconds later. He would have seen someone else leaving, if there had been someone else. But it had been him all along. She was such a fool!
“What are you doing?” he demanded, standing with his powerful legs braced apart and his arms folded over his chest. Like a prison warden. Her warden.
She felt a sudden rush of fear as she realized that he could easily do more than simply prevent her from leaving.
Her thoughts went to what Peter had told her, just before she’d boarded the plane to South America. Down here, the laws were different. People disappeared all the time. Often women.
She thought of the piranhas and the caiman in the river. A killer certainly wouldn’t lack for ways to make a body vanish. But Jackson would never try to hurt her, would he? She knew that he must have killed people during the war, but that was different. Wasn’t it?
“I’m going to walk up to the lodge and find Remi,” Jenn returned, hating the wobble in her voice. She needed to be strong, she needed to think clearly, but her heart was hurting so bad she couldn’t focus on anything else.
“It’s not safe,” Jackson remained firm in his position. “You need to stay here, where I can protect you.”
“Where you can protect me?” She snapped, taking strength from the sudden rage which filled her. “Protect me from what, Jackson? From who? I think it was you all along. You and someone that you hired to follow me around New York. I think this was all just a game for you. A sick, terrible game, which I’m done playing.”
She yanked at the handles of her suitcases, but in two strides he covered the space between them and caught her wrists, forcing her to release the luggage.
“You’re not leaving until I can figure out what’s going on.”
“The hell I’m not!”
Bags or no bags, the only way he could stop her, was to prove that he was every bit the asshole she was accusing him of being.
“Jenn,” his voice gentled, but his grip on her wrists remained firm. “I warned you, this isn’t just a one-night stand for me. I care about you.”
“Then why would you lie to me?”
“You want the whole truth?”
“Yes!”
“I love you, Jenn. I’m pretty sure I’ve been half in love with you since we were kids.”
Her jaw dropped, shock and disbelief battling the overwhelming pain. To be fair, Jackson looked pretty fucking shocked as well, as if the words he’d spoken weren’t at all the ones he’d planned to say.
“I don’t have a folder full of photographs. I haven’t been stalking you. But I’ve thought a lot about you over the years and I've regretted pushing you away. If you believe that you saw a file here, then I’ll believe you,” he paused and released her wrists so he could gently cup her face in his palms and force her to meet his intense gaze. “But you’ve got to believe me. I never saw it. Whoever put it in my kitchen must have taken it away after you saw it. Probably the same person who hit me in the head the other day.”
Her jaw snapped shut with an audible click, then opened again, as she floundered for words.
“Someone... hit you?”
He nodded, raising a hand to sweep back his hair and reveal the ugly bruise which discolored his scalp.
“While I was down, he must have fished the keys out of my pocket. He’s probably got duplicates of them all, which means he could get in or out of the bungalow, the lodge, and my office here on the resort. I’ll need to let Remi know so we can change all the locks.”
“Why didn’t you tell me that someone attacked you?”
“I meant to, but I was distracted by your wet, naked body, and the towel you lobbed at my head.”
Jenn recalled him walking in on her, fresh from the shower… and the passion which had followed. Her cheeks warmed even as the jigsaw pieces of her broken heart were attempting to glue themselves back into place.
He had a bruise on his head. Yes, he could have gotten that bruise from anywhere, but she really wanted to believe that he cared for her, and that he was telling her the truth. That he loved her.
He’d actually used the word love.
The Jackson she remembered would rather take a bullet than admit to loving anyone. He and Remi often used other ways to express their feelings for each other, calling each other names and such, but she couldn’t recall either of them ever using the word love.
It wasn’t like Jackson to make such a blatant declaration, but she refused to allow herself to be suspicious.
She had wanted him to care about her for so long. Why did it feel like he was only telling her now so that he could control her, or manipulate her?
She stomped down the tendrils of doubt and suspicion which still attempted worm their way into her thoughts.
“So, you think someone snuck into the bungalow and put the file in the kitchen for me to find?”
He gave a
slight shake of his head.
“I don’t know. Perhaps.” His eyes were unreadable.
“What should we do?”
“For now, I think we could both use some sleep.”
Her gaze flicked to the bed, then to the man towering over her.
She didn’t believe that Jackson would intentionally hurt her, but she was too unsettled to sleep beside him, at least for the night.
He seemed to recognize her desire for isolation, but he didn’t look happy about it.
“I need to make some phone calls,” he suggested, turning to walk out of the bedroom and leave her alone. “I’ll probably be up late, so I’ll just crash on the couch tonight. You try to get some sleep.”
They both knew it was an excuse, but she made no attempt to argue. She needed some space. She needed a little time to figure out what she was feeling. To unravel the knot of emotions bound up in the pit of her stomach and constricting her breath.
Things were moving too fast. She had emotional whiplash from the betrayal she’d felt all day, skidding into the fear she’d felt moments before, which had crashed headlong into Jackson’s strange declaration of love.
Her heart was a jumbled wreck. Her thoughts were just as muddled.
The moment Jackson was out of the bedroom, she closed the door tightly behind him.
Her fingertips hesitated over the lock, then curled into a tight fist, which she lowered to her side. If Jackson wanted to hurt her, a locked door wouldn’t stop him.
Instead of locking the door, she reached over to switch off the light, then turned walked back to the bed in the dark.
She didn’t have the energy to dig her night shirt back out of her suitcase. She was so emotionally and physically exhausted. The rainforest nights were warm enough. She stripped down to just her panties and crawled under the sheets.
Closing her eyes, she tried to listen for any sound from the other room, but if Jackson were talking on the phone, he must be keeping the conversation very quiet. She couldn’t hear anything over the soft trilling of some exotic bird outside the window.
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