“Are you okay?” I whisper.
Jackson clamors to his feet. He stands for a moment, testing to be sure his balance holds up, then walks away without a word. I glance around for a second, wondering if I should chase after Jackson or stay where I’m at. After all, it’s not like I’m his girlfriend or anything. Or even like I want to be his girlfriend. This is changing from a relaxing vacation filled with one night stands, hot flings, and the start of a great novel to a complicated, tangled mess.
Complicated or not, I should at least go check on him.
I jog to catch up to Jackson. I don’t say a word to him. Just walk along beside him as he leads me back up to the hotel. I pause briefly at the front desk to grab my room key, then follow Jackson into the elevator and up to our rooms.
Not one word floats between us.
Jackson walks to his room, unlocks the door, and steps inside. Alone. While I stand in the hallway wondering what my next move should be, the door shuts in front of me.
I stand in the hallway. Alone. Dumbfounded. The walls muffle the music from outside, but I can still hear it. Drums beating.
It’s intoxicating.
The smell of burning wood lingers on my dress.
I sweep my hotel key through the lock and step inside my room. My breath catches at the sight of Jackson leaning against the rails on the shared patio. I take a deep breath and shake the nerves out of my hands. Then I approach the patio door and slide it open.
Jackson doesn’t move.
He doesn’t even turn to look at me. I’m not sure if he’s noticed I’m there. Maybe he thinks I’m still down at the party?
I clear my throat, hoping it will alert him to me presence without scaring him or pissing him off.
“You don’t have to hide back there. I’m not going to flip out on your or anything.” Jackson mutters.
“I didn’t. I mean I don’t think you’re going to flip out on me. I just wasn’t sure if you wanted company or not.”
“But you’re out here.”
“Well. I guess I just wanted to make sure you were okay,” I whisper.
He turns around, leaning back against the patio railings.
“Yea. But if you want me to leave you alone, I will. I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”
“It’s your patio, too. Right? You paid same as I did.”
I nod my head and walk closer to the railing to look over at the beach. “Looks like we got out of there in time,” I whisper.
Drum beats are slowly being drowned out by police sirens. And bon fires are being doused while lights flash. People are running in scattered patterns around the party.
“I guess you were right,” he says. “Looks like that party was illegal after all.”
The lights mesmerize me.
After a few minutes, I take in a deep breath and turn back to the door. “Well, I think I’m just going to go turn in. It’s been a long night. And if you’re okay, then.”
“That’s probably best. Wouldn’t want you to get involved in anything so complicated.”
“Right,” I whisper. I stay back for a minute, thinking that I should say something. Anything. But then I think that Jackson’s mood is just going to get worse instead of better.
Better to just take his word and head into my room. So I do. I walk back into my room and slide the door behind me. I just don’t quite let it latch.
Something about latching the door in Jackson’s face hits me as wrong. Rude.
I glance over my shoulder. Jackson is facing out again. His back turned to me and the door. Not showing any interest in my company at all.
Well, that’s one way to make sure this ends with a clean break I think to myself.
Chapter Fifteen
As the last of the drum beats fade out in the distance, I turn the water on in the shower. Steam inches across the mirrors and fills the room.
Every muscle in my body melts under the hot water. I arch my back and lean up against the cold tile of the wall. Water drops sting my skin and roll off my curves. Taking with them the sand and the dirt. The stress.
The knots.
I take in a deep, steamy breath and stretch.
I stay in the shower until the heat is drained from the water. Until the drops of water run chills up my spine. When the water shuts off, the hotel room greets me with complete silence.
I step out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel. The room is dark. The patio is empty and devoid of Jackson’s light. I take in a deep breath and sink down into the recliner. My flight leaves in the early afternoon, and I know I should be packing. But my lazy side wins out and instead of getting back up and organizing my clothes into folded little piles, I grab my tablet and hop into the internet.
It’s the first time I’ve checked my email in over a week. Since I quit my job.
Four hundred and ninety three unread emails. 493. In a week. I roll my eyes and start to skim through some of the subject lines.
Hey, you okay?
OMG I saw what happened. Need to talk?
Kirsten!
Did you see him?
Hey, sorry I didn’t answer my phone.
Did you seriously just quit your job?
I take in a deep breath and close my email. Whatever notes are sitting there can certainly wait a little longer before I read them.
Facebook is filled with the same thing. Messages upon messages. Some from friends, some from others. All wanting answers.
And yet that’s it. Newsfeeds across the board are devoid of anything. Other than the people burning for an answer, it only took a week for memory of everything to be lost.
Tears sting at the back of my eyes. Thankfully, a knock at the door draws my attention away from the lump in my throat.
I tighten the towel around my chest and walk over to check who is at the door. A piece of me hopes to see Jackson staring back in at me.
I don’t.
Instead of Jackson’s bright smile, the front desk clerk is checking his hair in the mirrors hanging on the wall across from the door.
I hold my breath and debate letting him in. After all, he’s very nice. Cute. And it would help keep my mind off Jackson. But I’m also not sure that I even want to deal with anything. I grab my robe and throw it on over the towel.
“Hi!” I smile when I open the door.
“Hi. Miss Anders. This message came into the front desk for you.” He hands me a scribbled note on a piece of hotel stationery.
“Thanks,” I say as he jaunts down the hall.
I close the door and swing the deadbolt back into place. I have no idea why I’m so disappointed in the short conversation. I really thought he was up here to flirt with me. Or ask me out. Something. And I didn’t really want the attention when I expected it. But for him to just drop off a message like it was just anything else and walk away? I felt rejected and hurt.
“Kirsten, you have been here too long. Shit’s starting to fuck with your head,” I say as I shake my head and throw myself back onto the bed.
I unfold the note.
What the fuck are you doing in Thailand!
I toss the note back over onto the night stand and roll over. This is definitely an argument that I can have later. Sometime next week.
I rolled out of bed the next morning with a jump. Somehow I had lost most of the morning to my slumber. I had less than three hours to pack and get checked into the airport. Time to race.
And race I did. A quick rinse in the shower and my clothes flying across the room. Landing in the suitcase in a jumbled mess.
And just as what happened days ago, everything is fighting against me. The zipper on my suitcase catches and falls off its tracks, forcing me to fight just to get my suitcase zipped up and closed. I finally get the carry on packed up and toss that out into the hallway. Some small piece of me is hoping the noise will draw Jackson out of his room. Or maybe he’s leaving today, too. Maybe I’ll see him at the airport.
This new thought lights a fire under my ass a
nd motivates me to move faster. I sprint through the bathroom, tossing hygienics into my last bag and run out of the hotel room. Jackson’s room door is wide open. I glance back and forth down the hallway before peering into his room.
A man walks out of his room carrying a pile of towels.
I guess he already left.
I let the hotel room close behind me, grab my bags, and run down the hallway to the elevator.
Downstairs, the line of people trying to check out of the hotel is much longer than I thought it would be. How many people need to leave the hotel, anyway? I finally make my way through the line up to the front desk, only to realize that I left my hotel key upstairs in my room. Along with my purse.
Now I need to run all the way back upstairs. And with the crowd at the front desk, I can’t just leave my bags behind. So I have to drag them behind me like the unorganized lunatic that I am and hoof it down the hallway. I catch the housekeeping man a couple rooms down from Jackson’s.
“Hi. I’m sorry. Please, I left my purse and my key in my hotel room. Can you please just let me in there so I can bring them downstairs? I’m trying to check out so I can catch my plane.”
The man smiles and grabs his keys. He escorts me back to my room and unlocks the door for me. He waits in the doorway while I run through the room and grab my purse and key from the night stand.
And then I run back down the hallway again. The elevator doors shut just as I reach for the button. Of course. I check the time on my cell phone and tap my foot impatiently.
“Come on, come on,” I say as I press button over and over again. “Hurry up.”
Finally, the elevator reaches me and I load up to head downstairs.
Somehow, the line at the front desk hasn’t shrunk any. Once again I’m standing in line. Huffing at how slow everyone seems to be moving. When the line starts to move and I finally get back to the front desk, I slap my hotel key up on the counter. “Hi. Checking out.”
The pleasant lady behind the counter smiles and grabs my key as she starts pounding at the keys on her keyboard. A few minutes later, I am grabbing my bags and running out of the hotel to catch the shuttle over to the airport.
Chapter Sixteen
The traffic blocking my shuttle to the airport, thankfully, seems to be moving faster than the lines of people at the hotel. We pull up to the curb and the driver helps me drag my bags out of the shuttle. I thank him and run inside to find the check-in counter.
Another line.
I sink into the line and check the time on my phone again.
“Shit,” I whisper. No less than twenty people standing in front of me. Possibly more. And yet the lady behind the counter is taking her sweet time. Doesn’t she know we’re in a time crunch? You’d think she would be doing her best to herd us through faster.
A quick slap to my upper arm pulls me out of my thoughts.
I whirl around.
Jackson.
“Hi,” I say with a smile. I can’t believe he found me. I’m ready to lunge into his arms for a hug. But a closer look scares me into backing away.
His breaths are deep and sharp. Nostrils flaring and his cheeks are flushed.
“Why do you look so mad?”
He slams the rolled up paper in his hand against my shoulder. “Is this you?”
I scowl and snatch the paper from his hand. The headline on the paper jumps out at me. My stomach clenches. I have to hold my breath to keep from puking.
L.A. News Reporter Steals Company Data and Pictures and Quits.
I take in a deep breath and stare at the picture of me accompanying the headline.
“Yes. That’s me,” I mutter.
“So, all this time. You were just after some story?”
“What? No.”
“Give me a break. You reporters are all the same. You would do anything to get the scoop. Fucking vultures, the lot of you.”
Memories of the first night in the hotel room flash before my eyes. The other woman. Jackson screaming in the hallway. Fucking vulture his voice echoes through my thoughts.
“Fuck you,” he says as he turns to walk away.
Anger wells up in my stomach. My hands start to shake and I fight to keep the tears back. I hate getting this angry because my eyes always gloss over and people always think I’m crying when I’m not. I roll the paper back up in my fist and thrust it back at Jackson. Stepping out of line to reach him.
“No. You don’t get to do this. You don’t get to come storming in here when I’m clearly trying to catch a plane, glare down at me from your high horse, and judge me based on your sob story and a headline.”
I turn back to the line only to see the people behind me crowded forward. I tried to inch back into the spot I had been standing. No one is budging. The people glare at me for even trying. I grab my bags and slink to the back of the line. Cursing my stupid decision to walk out of line after him.
Jackson followed me.
“I don’t get to do this? Are you kidding me? You used me. With your fake line about needing a vacation, and trying something new. Just so you can weasel information from me. Get some story out of me. What were you trying to do? Huh? Trying to get your fucking job back?”
Scoffs huff up from behind me.
I whirl around to see Cody stepping up into line.
Jackson rolls his eyes, and without any warning, he pulls his fist and slams it against Cody’s jaw.
“Oh my God, Jackson,” I step in and try to pull back Jackson’s arm.
Cody stumbles backward, catching himself on the wall.
Jackson pulls away from me. “Fuck you,” he says. “Stay the fuck away from me.” He turns his back on me to walk away.
Cody lunges forward, fist flying, and tries to catch Jackson in the back.
Jackson whirls around and at the same time I reach over to try to grab Jackson out of the way. Cody’s fist collides with my jaw, knocking me onto my back.
I hit the floor with a thump and the wind rushes out of my lungs. The feelings drain from my fingers. I try to roll out of the way when Jackson leaps over me and catches Cody in the throat. Cody drops to his knees, holding his neck and coughing for air.
The ringing in my ears starts to clear as security guards rush us. One guard grabs me by the shoulders and drags me to my feet. Another guard grabs Cody while two more grab Jackson. Jackson screams at the guards to let him go. Then to let me go.
My jaw aches. I shake my head and try to pull out of the security guard’s grasp. He tightens his fist around my arms until I cry in pain.
Seconds later, all three of us are dragged from the airport and placed in cuffs before being loaded into a van.
Great. That’s just fucking great. There’s no way to make my flight now. I lean my head back against the wall of the van. My jaw is throbbing, but I fight to keep the tears back.
No way I’m going to let either of these two jerks see me cry.
The cuffs are digging into my wrists.
I pull my head back up and glare at the two men sitting across from me. The shuffling noises their feet make as they kick at each other is grating on my nerves.
“Stop it,” I growl at them. “What the hell is the matter with you two?”
Jackson glares back at me. “Wrong with me? You’re the fucking snake in the grass. On the hunt for a story about me?”
“Ha!” Cody chimes in. “The Crying Rich Boy. News at Eleven.”
“Shut up. Both of you just shut the fuck up.” My eyes dart between the two of them. “You, Cody. You’re so fucking insecure that you have to attack anything you see as a weakness in someone else just to make you feel like a man.”
Jackson smirks as Cody stares down at his feet.
“And you. What fucking right do you have to pull my character into question when you don’t even know me? So yea. I’ll ask again. What the hell is the matter with you?”
“Why else would you fucking be here? Huh? You didn’t work there. You walked into that holiday party and yo
u stole news property. You stole those photos and you ran off with them. And because of that, the investigation never concluded.”
The pain in my jaw finally subsides. I bite my tongue and shake my head. “Fuck you Jackson. You don’t know what you’re talking about. And you punched Cody here for saying less to you than you’re saying about me right now.”
The van pulls up to a building and the doors open up to let us out. One by one, the guards lead us out of the van and into the building.
Chapter Seventeen
Humidity and heat add to the discomfort of the police station. My hair sticks to my forehead as sweat drips down from my temples. I have no idea where Cody or Jackson are. Just sitting in this room by myself, loathing the entire vacation. A few different people walk in, examine my jaw, and then leave. No one talks to me, other than to ask me how I’m feeling.
“Annoyed and confused” seems to be the number one answer.
Finally, someone in uniform comes in with a glass of water and unlocks my cuffs. “What’s your name?” he asks.
“Kirsten Anders. Am I under arrest for something?”
“No. Kirsten. We were called because of a disturbance at the airport. When we arrived, we saw you get hit. We pulled you out of there so we could make sure you were safe and allow everyone to calm down. But you’re not in any trouble.”
“Are the guys under arrest for something?”
“That depends on whether or not they decide to press charges. Right now neither one of them will admit to anything except that you got hit by mistake. Did you get hit by mistake?”
“Yes. It was an accident. He’s an asshole. But it was an accident. Does this mean I can go?”
He takes in a deep breath and nods. “Yes. You can go.”
I stand up and follow him out of the room. The station is remarkably quiet. So few people inside that everyone locks eyes with me at one point or another.
A new shuttle takes me and my bags back over to the airport and I slip back into the line. Everything feels surreal. I can’t shake Jackson’s comments out of my head. I reach into my jeans pocket and pull out the flash drive there. As much as I want to believe that Felicia is my friend and wants me to go back to work with her, I also have no doubt that she has been trying to get her hands on this.
Sweetest Sin: Bad Boy Bundle Page 25