by Tigris Eden
No response.
“Anna, turn on the light, darlin’.”
Still no response. Something was wrong. Very wrong. Dread slithered down his spine. She would have answered him. Should have. She always had something to say. Getting up out of bed, Jackson went for the gun at his bedside. He always kept it there. He needed to have that conversation with Anna. Put things in perspective for her. Explain just how dangerous his job was. He wasn’t the sheriff of Beauville. Not really. He’d taken the job as a cover. Jackson made several bad decisions when it came to being out in the field. The people he reported to suggested taking the job of town sheriff would not only keep his cover, but it would also keep Inara safe. The daughter of Viti Palatso, crime boss of the Palatso crime syndicate.
Gun in hand; Jackson made his way to the kitchen. There was no sign of Anna. If there was no sign of Anna that meant that shit had hit the fan. He felt the blood before he saw it. His feet, sticky, and warm. The smell distinct. He didn’t think. He flipped on the kitchen light and saw his Anna, barely breathing, blood pooling at her side. Her eyes are closed and he could barely see the rise and fall of her chest. She’d been stabbed. Kneeling, he lifted her head to check her pulse. It was strong.
“Baby, stay with me. Stay with me. I’m right here. Right here, Anna.”
Jackson reached for the phone on the counter.
“This is Agent Storme. I need three units out to my house and an ambulance. Annabelle Macon has been stabbed.”
He disconnected the call and tried to assess the damage. He knew whose work this was, had seen the man’s handiwork before. But how did the bastard find him? No one knew about Beauville. It was a small-town. Insignificant. They’d been so careful.
Anna moaned, and Jackson cradled her in his lap as he tried staunching the blood flow by putting pressure on the wound. When he did, more blood spurted out from another wound. The bastard had cut her more than once.
“Please. Please. Please,” he whispered. “Don’t fucking do this to me. You fight, Anna. You fucking fight. You hear me? Fight, God dammit!”
Jackson heard the sirens and breathed a sigh of relief. She’d be okay, had to be. He’d just found his slice of happiness and wasn’t going to let it slip through his fingers. The EMTs had to bust open his door to get in. He wasn’t going to leave her, couldn’t. Her face was ashen, and the life he was used to seeing shining true on her face was gone.
“You have to let her go, Jackson. Let them do their jobs.”
Jackson looked up at Treat. His best friend. His partner.
“How did they know we were here, Treat? How did they find us?”
“I don’t know, man, but we’re going to figure this fucking thing out. We’ll find him, and when we do, we’ll take care of this. Off the books if we have to, man.”
Yeah, off the fucking books. Because when he found the man responsible for Anna’s pain, he was going to end his life in the worst kind of way.
UNTIL HER
by Tigris Eden
Until Her: Chapter 1
Inhale.
Tap. Tap. Exhale.
Inhale.
Tap. Tap. Exhale.
Inhale.
Tap. Tap. Exhale.
Jackson was breathing and tapping his left foot in time with Anna's ventilator.
Inhale.
Tap. Tap. Exhale.
He could feel the sound. A constant weight on his shoulders, reminding him of what he’d almost lost. His whole fucking world. His entire reason for seeing the light at the end of his dark existence was lying in a hospital bed in an induced coma, and it was all his fault. He should have been honest with her. Hugged her more and told her every fucking day of his life how much he loved her. All of that didn’t matter now. What mattered was the woman lying prone on a hospital bed, hooked up to a machine, fighting for her life.
He should have explained everything. You should have come clean. Eyes closed, he continued with his routine. The smell of her room was sterile. He was breathing and drinking in the smell, and for as long as he lived, he hoped to never be in this situation again. Not with her, not ever with her.
"Annabelle Macon, you are not allowed to quit on me." His throat was too dry to form sound. His voice could have easily come from the Grim Reaper himself.
Cold.
Dead.
Unfeeling.
Only, he was the opposite of those emotions. He was raw on the inside, torn up on the outside, and unraveling all around. He was sure he was falling apart. He needed to be strong for Anna. They'd put her in a coma. She suffered from edema, fluid build-up on the brain as a result of blunt force trauma to the head when she'd fallen on his kitchen floor. She was in a deep state of unconsciousness. His beautiful, beautiful Anna. That wasn't the worst of it, though. Not even close. In the background, the dialysis machine cleaned her blood. Both kidneys had been injured due to multiple knife wounds. Pearl and The Mayor had volunteered one of theirs, but they weren’t a match. His sister and her husband were going to try and see if they could be donors, and really, that was all they had going for them. Because he wasn’t a match, and if his sister or Treat weren’t either, it’d be this damn machine for the rest of her life.
"Mr. Storme?" He opened his eyes. White spots floated into his view before a wave of unwelcomed exhaustion hit.
Jackson didn’t say a word. He continued to breathe and tap in time with the machine. If he stopped breathing, he felt as if she would, too.
"Jackson Storme?" The voice came again. It was female.
Soft. Unsure.
This time, he looked up and across the room at the woman attached to the voice.
"I need you to come with me, sir."
Yeah. No. That was not happening. He wasn't going anywhere.
"I'm not leaving her," he croaked.
"Mr. Storme. There's an Agent Del Zur here for you."
Shit.
For Tracey to come down from her post meant she had information.
"She can come in here."
The nurse cleared her throat. "Sir, we can’t have anyone besides family in the room with Miss Macon. There are two officers stationed outside her room. Per your request.” She remembered him from his earlier demand. He’d had to step out to get tested, but had to make sure someone could watch over Anna.
They’d air-lifted Anna to the hospital in Houston. Methodist was the best. It had taken him over six hours to get to her because they wouldn’t let him ride in the helicopter. Something he was still pissed about, but Treat and Joey, along with half the town, had made the journey to Houston.
“I ain't leaving her side, goddammit!" Jackson's voice rose. He was on the verge of yelling when Anna’s heart monitor began sounding alerts. Calm. She needs you calm. Jackson slowly stood, placed his hand in Anna's, and squeezed tightly as he bent to kiss her forehead and whisper in her ear.
"Baby, I'll be right outside the door."
Reluctant and pissed that he had to leave her side, Jackson made his way into the hall. Tracey Del Zur, his senior officer in command, wore a cream-colored suit with matching shoes. She was short and ballsy, and Jackson thought the world of her. Until about thirty seconds ago.
"You look like shit, Storme."
Typical Tracey.
“My woman's lying in a hospital bed, and you want to throw fucking insults? I hope you're here with information.”
“Yes and no.” Her eyes gave him a once-over. He knew what she saw. A man completely at wit’s end. Feral and unkempt. He didn’t give a goddamn what her assessment of his personal appearance was.
Whatever Tracey had to say was going to piss him off further. He was sure of it.
“Well, what is it?” His voice was harsh.
Tracey stepped back on her heels, did an about face, and walked away from him. It was his cue to follow. She had a way of commanding attention. It was one of the reasons he enjoyed working with her. She got to the point, didn’t fuck around, and made sure her team was taken care of. He gave the guard
at Anna’s door a head nod and followed his boss.
"You've been reactivated. Full duty." Before he could interrupt, she held up her hand. "Treat's active, as well. There is a third, your new backup. Originally, I was going to use another resource to be my eyes and ears. I didn’t want to bring either of you back on. I know Treat’s about to be a father, and you’re engaged now. But I don’t have a choice; your cover’s been blown. Your location compromised. The best thing we can do now is close this case once and for all.”
Jackson heard what she said, but his mind was elsewhere. Who the fuck was this new person?
“Are Treat and Joey in danger?”
She shook her head.
“What about Treat?"
"That's the good news," Tracey said over her shoulder. “Your brother-in-law came back as a match. He can give one of his kidneys to Anna. He's being prepped for surgery, and they will operate tomorrow. Turns out, Treat and Anna are brother and sister. Half–siblings.” No shit. What else would they be? Fuck, brother and sister? Jackson had not seen that coming. He almost ran into Tracey at the news of Anna and Treat being siblings. That meant the entire town was wrong. Treat’s father, William Cavanaugh, was Anna’s father.
Treat was Anna's half-brother. Did he know?
"Does Treat know?"
Tracey smiled. Yeah, Treat knew.
“He does now. You missed one hell of an argument. Pearl Macon is a lioness. When the doctor came back with the results, the entire room went into a Jerry Springer episode to rival all Jerry Springer episodes."
He could only imagine.
"What happened?"
“Lola happened. She went off on your partner, who had no idea Anna was even his sister. The twins played backup, and some huge beast of a man called Pooh Bear was the referee. It was Pearl who got everyone under control."
Figures. Pearl Macon could tame the loudest of quarrels, and Lola was crazy. Twenty cans short of a twenty-four pack. But she always had Anna’s back.
"Are Treat and Joey good?"
"Right as rain."
"ls that all?" He really wanted to get back to Anna. He was thrilled that Treat was a match, but now he just wanted it all over.
Tracey tilted her head to the side, eyeing Jackson.
''Go, be there for your woman. When she wakes up, you have two weeks of downtime, and then you're back in my office."
Jackson's head snapped up. Two weeks? Was that all? He needed a lot longer than that to care for Anna. She’d have appointments, and some sort of rehab. But he knew that was Tracey. She wanted the case closed. There was no point in arguing; he just hoped Anna would understand his reasoning for having to leave her in her family’s care.
“I don’t have any time off for her aftercare? What about this third person you want me to work with?”
“You two will meet soon enough. As for Anna’s aftercare, well, it’s not the agency’s problem. You just make sure you show up in my office in two weeks.
I can feel softness. Warmth. Everything around me is calm. I think I can even hear music, but I’m not sure. There is some sort of wild cry in the background. I want to open my eyes and see what’s making those noises, but my eyes are heavy. Too heavy. The sound gets louder, closer. I'm not scared. Somehow, I know I'm safe. Something feather-soft tickles my face, then down my arm and over my leg. This happens several times. Each stroke lulls me. Pulls me toward a place I know I need to go, but am too afraid to go back to. What if everything changes? What if they've all moved on? What if he's moved on? Who is he, and why can’t I remember his name? How long have I been here?
My body is being repositioned. Lifted. And someone is telling me to fight. I know the words are coming from him. But who is he? He's important, special. I love his voice. It’s smooth, but rough, deep, yet tempered at just the right pitch. The sound of the timbre surrounds me. It makes my insides warm. But I can’t remember his name. It’s on the tip of my tongue, but my mouth is dry.
I can feel the feathers again, and this time, I do open my eyes. But I can’t focus. Blurry blues, greens, and a flash of something I think is pink or purple. But before I can truly make out the feathers, I'm pulled into a place void of sound. There’s a bright flash of light at the end of a never-ending vortex. His voice is calling me home, I heard it seconds ago, and now it’s muffled again. It’s as if I’m the knob on a stereo and the speakers in my ears are muted then switched back on. As comforted as I feel, my body knows I need to go towards his voice. I know the voice. The voice is home.
"Jackson, surgery went off without a hitch. Go back to the hotel and shower."
Pearl Macon was trying to be motherly, and he understood. But he wasn’t listening. Not until he could see for himself.
"Sorry. I can’t."
"You can, baby. Anna's in recovery now. She won’t wake up for a long while. Even the doctors say so."
"I don’t want to be gone when she wakes up.”
"You'll be here, sugar. You don’t want to scare our baby girl with all that hair. You listen to Momma Pearl and go back to the hotel and shower. Come back when you're done.”
Pearl’s small hand pulled him from his chair, and Jackson let her. It would be a quick shower. Then he'd come back and check in with his sister and her husband. Treat had been awake for the past two hours and was doing great. The doctors wanted to bring Anna back slowly but were waiting to see how her kidney reacted in the next twenty-four hours.
“Yes, ma’am. You're right." He was tired of staring at the same set of walls anyway. The waiting room had other families waiting for a loved one. Sitting in pods of three or more. The walls were decorated with pictures of smiling faces and helping hands. He knew if he walked out of the room and made the seventy-two steps, he’d find the nurses’ station with their electronic board lighting up the patients’ names and showing their progress. He’d gone several times to the screen to check Anna’s status. Each time, it was the same. Patient in surgery.
Whether someone was there watching her as the doctor operated for signs of stress, he didn’t know. But all he could do during her procedure was pray. Keep Anna safe, he demanded. Let her wake up and be whole, he requested. I’ll do whatever it takes to protect her, give me a chance to show her I’m there for her. There were moments of incoherence in his request, but he figured the man upstairs—or woman—knew what he was asking. She was in recovery now. He could leave for a moment. He wouldn’t be gone long.
“I should think so. Now, go on. I'll sit with my baby when they let me in there. Need to talk to her anyway."
Jackson nodded.
Lola, the twins, and Bear, along with The Mayor, were there in the waiting area with him.
“I'm going to grab a shower, freshen up."
"Thank the Lord and all his angels. You look tore up from the floor up," Lola stated.
"Thanks, Lo."
“Anytime. Pooh Bear can take you to the hotel."
"Appreciate that.”
Bear was a mountain of a man, and only Lola and the girls called him Pooh Bear. No one would mistake him for anything other than a bear. He wore loose jeans, an LSU jersey, and a pair of Air Jordans. He kept his hair short, and his face clean. He was also a deputy in another Parish.
“Come on, man, before Lola starts running her mouth.”
"Heard that.”
Bear turned back to his wife and grinned.
"Know you did, gorgeous."
Jackson didn’t want to be around to witness the happy couple’s banter. He wanted to shower, see Anna, and exist in a place where all the bullshit fell away. He and Bear made their way out into the night, and Jackson took a deep breath. The air felt thicker. Hotter. Summers in Texas were suffocating. Moths and all other manner of bugs flew overhead, banging blindly into the light fixtures. Lovebugs hovered in pairs in a cloud of black, irritating the hell out of him. He swatted a few away just because he could.
“She's a fighter, man." Bear patted Jackson on the back. "She's going to wake up madder than a dam
n gator who’s realized his dinner got away. But she’ll be fine.”
Jackson didn’t respond. He kept walking. Bear's wife wasn’t the one in a coma fighting for her life. Calm down, he's trying to be friendly and support you. Well, Jackson didn’t want support. He wanted Anna. And justice. He’d been thinking long and hard about how justice should be served. To hell with what was right. Peretti and Fabiano would die a slow, tortuous death if left up to him. He could do it, get away with it, and no one would be wise to it. Maybe he’d even enlist one of his old buddies that he’d gone to training camp with when he was in the military. Hammer was taking contract work. Hell, he’d even been on the radar for supposedly strong-arming one of the President’s top advisors.
It could work.
The shower did make him feel better, and he did look like hell. His face was sunken in, and his eyes were bloodshot. He knew when Anna woke up she’d be more worried about him than she would be about herself. Jackson dressed quickly and met Bear downstairs.
"You gonna eat something?” Bear asked as they walked through the lobby.
“No, mother hen, I'm not."
Bear eyed him before he stopped walking. Jackson turned and waited.
"What gives, man? Your woman’s in a hospital bed fighting for her life. Got that. But you're no good to her if you're not firing on all pistons. I don’t know what the fuck is going on, but I know something is. Why was she even targeted? And don’t try and say it was a burglary gone wrong, I’m not stupid. You're the sheriff. Nothing ever happens in town, besides gossip. Now you two get together, and some shit heel stabs her?" Bear shook his head. "I'm not buying it, man."
“I don’t care what you are or aren’t buying. Take me back to the hospital.”
It didn’t matter if Bear was law enforcement, he wasn’t entitled to that kind of information. It wasn’t ‘share and share alike.’ It was more of a, ‘mind your own business and I’ll mind mine.’ ‘Need to know’ was something Bear was not privy to.