by Amy Gamet
Jax raised an eyebrow. "And who might that beneficiary be?"
The lawyer tilted his head and folded his hands across the file. “I’m not certain I should share that information at this time.”
"If it's a matter of public record, then what difference does it make?"
"Technically it's a matter of public record. Realistically, if you went through legal means to obtain this information, it would take you a minimum of several weeks from today to get it." He smiled a small smile. "Mr. Hopewell was a very good client. I feel it's our duty to protect the dignity of his Last Will and Testament.”
Jax and Jessa exchanged a look. Jessa rested her elbow on the armrest and cocked an eyebrow at the lawyer. "It wasn’t just the break-ins. Someone is trying to hurt me."
The lawyer's eyes went wide. "Excuse me?"
“Maybe even kill me. They're after this book." She held up the book in her hand.
The lawyer’s stare was transfixed on the volume. “The Manor.” He sighed. "I had heard it was among the items mailed out, but I didn't get to see it, myself."
Jax narrowed his eyes. "Does this book mean something to you?"
The lawyer laughed. “Personally, no. But I believe it’s quite valuable. I may be able to find a buyer if you’re interested in selling.”
"Why is it valuable?”
The lawyer walked around his desk and approached her with a coy smile. "May I?" He held out his hand and Jessa gave him the book. He flipped open to cover. “This in my hand is the only known author-inscribed copy ever found. It's believed he left this note for his lover after he went back to his wife. It's a horrible story. One that’s echoed in The Manor’s pages."
He closed the book and returned it to her. "You're a very lucky woman Ms. Cortez."
"You can see why we’re anxious to learn who might be interested in this book," said Jax.
"The whole world is interested, I imagine," said the lawyer.
Jax nodded. "I need to know who the primary heir of Harold Hopewell's estate is.”
The lawyer returned to his seat and opened his folder once more. He appeared to be reading, then lifted his head. "Mr. Hopewell left a series of odd bequests. Single items or amounts of money left to people he was unrelated to. I can only assume that you, Maria Elena, are also one of those people. Is that correct?"
"Yes," she said.
"But he was not without family of his own. He had one sister who passed before him, and she had a son. Harold’s only living relative, a nephew. He's the primary heir of Harold's estate. Any of Mr. Hopewell's bequests that go unclaimed will eventually become the property of his nephew."
"I need a name,” said Jax.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Andersson. But that’s as much as I can help you.”
17
Jessa sat up straight and squeezed her knees together on the bench seat of Jax’s truck. “I want to go back to the beach.”
“You’re not safe there,” said Jax.
“Why not? The guy who was following me is dead. He can’t hurt me anymore.”
“If he was the only one following you.”
“Oh, come on, Jax. You can’t just make things up to get me to do what you want.”
“I’m not making anything up. I have a hunch the man in the woods was a professional hit man, in which case the person who hired him is still very much alive.”
She narrowed her eyes. “What makes you think that?”
“Several things. His rifle. It was a military-issue sniper rifle. You can’t walk into a sporting goods store and buy a gun like that. And the GPS unit we found in your purse was also a professional gadget. Do you think the heir of a wealthy millionaire would just happen to have those things, or is he more likely to hire someone who does?”
Jessa turned and stared back out the windshield. “If you’re right, I’ll never be safe.”
“Not as Maria Elena, no.”
“I need to get my things, at least.”
“Not right now, you don’t.”
“The only things I care about are in that house.”
“They’re things, Jessa. They can be replaced.”
She knew he was right, though it was the handful of keepsakes she was most concerned with. “Not the special things.”
“Then I promise, I’ll get them back to you. But for now, we need to head back to Georgia.”
“I don’t have anywhere to live in Georgia anymore.”
“You can stay with me.”
She blew out air. She would sooner live on the streets than with this man. “No, thank you.”
In that moment, she felt hopeless. All she wanted to do was to create a life for herself and her child where Jax would never find them, and all her attempts to distance herself from him had brought her right back to his side.
“Jessa, I need to know what you were running from. Why you changed your name. You can trust me with anything.”
“Not anything.”
“Yes, damn it, anything. But you don’t believe that, do you? No matter what I say, you just tune it right out. I’m sorry you feel so alone, but it seems to me you’re alone because you don’t let anyone inside anymore. I’m your friend, and I’m sitting right here, trying to help, and you’re pushing me away as hard as you can.”
Her bottom lip was quivering and she bit it, hard. “I want a fresh start, Jax. Away from my memories of Ralph. Away from HERO Force. Away from you.”
The truck crested a hill and a gas station came into view. “I need to get fuel,” he said. “Are you hungry?”
She nodded, feeling suddenly exhausted, whether from the argument with Jax, the stress of the last few days, or the pregnancy, she had no idea. Probably a bit of everything.
Jax sat in the car and watched Jessa through the gas station window while he touched base with Logan back at HERO Force. "I need everything you’ve got on this nephew guy," he said. "Somehow he has to be the one orchestrating this shit. No one else has a stake in the items from that will."
“I cross-referenced Hopewell with Maria Elena Cortez. I can’t find their association.”
“Figures.” Jax sighed. “There's one more thing, Logan, and I need to keep this one under wraps. Even from the other guys."
"Of course."
Jax pursed his lips. Trusting Logan with his deepest concerns was like handing over the keys to the Porsche to a kid without a license. "I need you to find out everything you can about Jessa McConnell, widow of Ralph McConnell."
There was a pause on the line, so that Jax knew Logan was familiar with the name. "Yes, that Ralph. The one from HERO Force."
"What am I looking for?"
Jax leaned his head back against the headrest. That was the twenty-thousand-dollar question. What the hell were they looking for? Something so terrible Jessa would run away from her life. "Anything extreme. She paid money for a new identity, and I want to know why."
“You've got it."
"Thanks, Logan."
Jessa walked toward the car carrying two chocolate milks and two packs of peanut butter cups. She climbed in beside him and handed him one of each.
"Thanks for cooking dinner," he said.
“You're welcome. How long are you planning on driving tonight?"
"Four or five hours."
"Wake me up when we get there." She ate her peanut butter cups and curled up on her side, facing the window.
Jax drove along the interstate, thinking. He liked having her next to him in his truck, and he didn’t like anybody in his truck.
Just like my life.
He liked having her in it, even though she clearly didn’t want to be here. They’d be spending tonight at another hotel, then they’d be back in Georgia tomorrow. No doubt she’d exit his life at the first opportunity once they were home.
Unless he could convince her to stay between now and tomorrow afternoon.
Several hours into the drive, his phone rang on the Bluetooth in his ear.
"What did you find out?" he asked Logan.
“She quit her job in Atlanta with notice months before — she clearly planned on moving. She relocated to Savannah, where she’d lined up a nursing job, but for some reason she didn’t stay there long. There's only one thing that stands out as strange, but I don't know that it's a reason to take on a new identity. She's been seeing an oncologist, even going so far as to drive back to Atlanta for the appointments.”
The lights on the road seemed to blur and drag into streaks of color. "A cancer doctor?"
"That's right. Specializing in ovarian cancer. First, Jessa saw her every few months. Lately, it's been every few weeks."
Jax felt like he was looking at a fun-house mirror where his entire perception of reality had changed in the blink of an eye. He forced his voice past the spasm of his throat. “Anything else?”
“That’s all I’ve got right now.”
“Call me the moment you have more information." He disconnected the call.
Jax was a man who wore his armor proudly. He’d worked long and hard to keep his emotions separated from his interactions with the world. But this? His armor was useless against this.
He wanted to punch something, and his hand jabbed at the steering wheel of its own accord. If Jessa were not sleeping next to him, he didn't know what he might do. But she was, and he didn't want to wake her, didn't want to ask her the questions he knew he must ask.
Didn't want to hear those answers.
He drove by a mile-marker sign. The next exit was as good a place as any to stop for the night. He needed a drink.
He needed to explode.
The dotted line down the center of the road flashed like a metronome keeping time in the background. What must she be going through? And a better question yet was how long would he have to wait to find out what was wrong with her?
By the time he pulled into the hotel parking lot, he had himself more under control. At least on the outside. He woke her gently and checked in, again finding only one room with a king-sized bed. Just as she had the last time, Jessa almost immediately took a bath, leaving him by himself.
Ovarian cancer.
He was stunned. Still in shock. He pressed a hand to his stomach, his ulcer burning once more.
He thought back to Jessa in bed, not worried about protection. He remembered when she was carsick and not feeling well. How she didn't drink her coffee. Her dream about having another child. She was sick, possibly very sick, and he was sick not knowing what he might do without her.
Did she know she didn't have to go through this alone? Did she know he would be by her side in a heartbeat, and all she had to do was ask that he be there?
Of course not. How the hell would she know that? They'd spent one night together, and here he was wishing she would tell him what was inside her heart.
She came out of the bathroom and he sat up. "Hey."
"Hey, yourself.” She eyed him warily. “Why are you staring at me?"
“Logan called while you were sleeping in the truck.” He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I know you've been seeing an oncologist."
She turned on him so quickly he jerked his head back in surprise. "How dare you investigate me?"
He stood up. "There has to be a reason. There has to be a reason why you would do all this, why you would leave everything you knew and take on a new identity. It doesn't make any sense, Jessa. I asked you about it, and you didn't tell me the truth. What the hell was I supposed to do?"
She crossed to him. "You know what you don't do? You don't send your dogs digging through my personal life to make yourself feel better. You don't violate my privacy as if you are some god who has the right." She poked her finger into his chest. "You don't do that to someone, Jax. You don't do that to me."
"I'm sorry, Jessa."
"Dr. Davis is an oncologist. She is also my personal physician. Not because I have cancer but because she's my friend. We worked together at the hospital."
Jax bent at the waist. She wasn’t sick, wasn’t dying. Relief was like a physical loosening of his entire body. "Jesus. You scared the hell out of me.”
“Why? What does it matter to you?”
He stood up straight. "I care about you, Jessa. Is that so hard to understand? I see you struggling and I want to help."
"And I don't want your help."
"So you keep telling me. But that doesn't change anything."
She looked at him like he was crazy. "What the hell is wrong with you, Jax? It was one night. It didn't mean anything to either one of us."
He took a step toward her. “That’s not true.”
She crossed her arms in front of her chest. "It was one night of bad, lonely sex between two people who ought to know better.”
God, she was pushing his buttons. "It meant something to me, and you're lying. It wasn’t bad at all." His heart was racing, his will not equipped to stop him from doing what he was about to do. “It was incredible. Maybe I need to jog your memory."
He needed to kiss her, needed to feel her against him after believing for even an instant she might be ill. He couldn’t lose her, not to cancer, not to her own belligerence or her insistence she couldn’t trust him in her life.
He needed to kiss her, and nothing was going to stand in his way.
18
She instantly knew she had made a mistake.
He moved in and kissed her like he had every right to be kissing her, his lips at once firm and soft and demanding everything she didn’t want to give him.
A searing jolt of pure want shot through her body from the point where their mouths connected to the aching emptiness between her legs. She was helpless to control her reaction to this man, no matter how much she disliked him or how angry she had become. She’d seen more emotion from him in the last two days than in all the time she’d known him, and this side of Jax was much more difficult to ignore.
His lips came off of hers, a hair's breadth separating her from him, the sound of their breathing the only sound in her ears. “Tell me you remember," he said, nudging her forehead back with his own and taking her mouth again.
His arms came up around her sides, clenching the fabric at her back. He ground out against her mouth, “Tell me you remember how good it was between us, because I can't stop thinking about it."
She remembered everything.
Every touch, every noise, the rise and fall of their bodies together in the darkness. How she’d tried to make herself forget, willing the memories away as she justified her reaction to him.
She met his eyes, the gleam of knowing satisfaction in his, and she fought against the truth that her body was singing aloud, fought herself to keep her hands from his body. “No,” she whispered.
He pulled her against him roughly. "You are such a goddamn liar." He kissed her again, this time his mouth crushing hers, forcing her lips to open and take him inside. Then she was kissing him back, her hands snaking up to wrap around his neck and hold him tightly against her.
He felt so good, better even than that first night, if that was possible. Her body knew now what he could do for her, knew the fireworks they were capable of setting off, and her physical need for him was out of control. She wanted to feel that again. Needed to feel that connection to him.
He pushed her against the wall and growled against her mouth. “Tell me you remember what it felt like when I was inside you, when the whole world stopped moving until I made you come.”
He was kissing her neck and she was caught in a landslide, the earth pushing past her while she held on for dear life. “I remember,” she whispered. “I remember it all.”
He spun her around. Her legs hit the mattress and he followed her down, bracing himself above her as she opened her legs and took the weight of his lower body.
He was lifting her shirt up to her neck, pulling the cups of her bra down to expose her fully.
Would he notice the changes in her body, the fullness of her breasts, how sensitive she’d become?
“The light,” she sai
d. “Please turn the light off.”
He took one peak into his mouth and sucked deeply.
She yelped in surprised pain.
He let go. “Are you okay?”
She nodded.
“I thought you liked that.”
Embarrassment was like ice in a hot drink, instantly cooling her down. She pulled her shirt down between them. “This was a mistake,” she said, pushing him off of her, and lowered her legs to the floor.
“Wait…”
She held out her arm to keep him away, suddenly fighting back tears. “No. We’re not going to do this again.”
His steely stare stayed on her. “Why not?”
“Because I don’t want to.”
“You’re lying.”
“No, I’m not. I don’t want a fuck buddy in my dead husband’s best friend.”
“Don’t play that card, Jessa. What’s between us has nothing to do with him.”
She wasn’t playing cards, she was grasping at straws. But the conversation was so ingrained in her memory, it was easy to pull out this particular straw. “You may have moved on with your life and forgotten Ralph, but I haven’t. I can’t. I don’t want to. And I can’t even look at you without seeing him.”
“Bullshit. You didn’t think of him at all when we were together. That’s why you feel guilty as hell. There were only two of us in that bed, Jessa. Not three, or I damn sure would have noticed. And it kills you that you forgot all about him because you only wanted me.”
The truth in his words was like the thinnest of daggers slicing quickly through muscle and digging solidly into bone.
“I hate you,” she snarled.
“Maybe you always wanted me, even when you were with him. Maybe that’s why you feel so bad.”
She reached up to slap him across the face, but he caught her wrist in midair. “Or maybe you didn’t. All I know is I was jealous as fuck of that man,” he said, “coming home to your warm bed after a mission.”
“I’ll never forgive you for taking him from me.”
He stared at her long and hard, then let go of her wrist. “I’m going to the bar,” he said, then turned and was gone.