Jackson

by Jackson (retail) (epub)

  “Morning, Jackson.” Major Hargrove didn’t wait to be invited in. He just assumed the open door was all the invitation he needed. “Thanks for coming so quickly.”

  “I’m still half-asleep,” Jackson groaned as he stepped away from the door and made it back to his coffeepot.

  “At least you had the chance to go to sleep. I’ve been up for about twenty-four hours, since I got this call just before I was about to head home yesterday.”

  Jackson stared through narrowed slits. Hargrove didn’t play with his time. He stayed when necessary, but he was obsessed with him and his Rangers having a clear work-life balance. Nothing kept him from punching out at six in the evening unless there was a real emergency. “You made it sound like it was life or death that I come in at”—he raised his left wrist, pretending to read the wide-faced watch there—“ass o’clock in the morning. What’s going on, Major?”

  His boss slid a file on Jackson’s desk and took the seat in front of it, waiting patiently for Jackson to fill the mug he’d grabbed the second the alarm on the machine told him his brew was ready.

  “You’re not gonna put any milk or sugar in the rotgut?”

  “No, sir,” Jackson replied, sitting down and taking a long, slow sip. “I like it the way it is: strong and black, just like me.”

  He took another sip before opening the file. The first thing that caught his attention was the picture of a woman in a fitted designer dress. Not that he knew fashion from foam rubber, but with the way the black material hugged her full curves, he was certain it had been made or at least tailored just for her.

  “I’m not gonna be ready to read this without at least another cup. Just give me the highlights. Who is she?”

  His boss crossed an ankle over his knee and tilted his head. “She’s the niece of a friend. A judge in Hill Country. Her property has been vandalized, and the judge needs someone to look into it.”

  Jackson felt his brow inching higher toward his hairline. Something about the way Major Hargrove said “someone” scratched at his bullshit meter.

  “What do the locals have to say about it?”

  Hargrove lifted an open palm before letting his hand fall back to his knee. “Not a thing. There’s some bad blood between the local sheriff’s department and Ms. Everett.”

  Jackson shifted in his seat. The coffee plus his boss’s preliminary recount was starting to sketch an outline to this tale of a spoiled judge’s niece using her uncle’s connections to get what she wanted.

  “Anyway, the judge wants to make sure this is taken seriously. Especially since the vandalism has escalated from fence posts and a scaffold being knocked down to her barn being burned to the ground yesterday.”

  Jackson sat up straighter. “Anyone hurt?”

  “Minor cuts and bruises on Ms. Everett. Her uncle called me while she was being seen at the hospital. Asked me to get her a protective detail and send a team out to investigate.”

  “She pointing fingers at anyone?”

  Hargrove stood up and tapped on top of the beautiful woman’s picture. “Don’t know. But you can ask when she gets here. I assigned Jennings and Gleason to her protective detail overnight. They’re bringing her in first thing this morning so she can swear out a statement. Get your team together and figure this thing out.” He walked toward the door confident his orders would be followed. And they would be. Jackson might give his boss shit, but he always got the job done.

  He looked at the picture of one Ms. Aja Everett again. He ran his finger slowly over the high cheekbones that turned her eyes into barely opened slits as her wide grin smiled back at him. “Why would anyone want to harm you?”

  * * *

  “So what’s the plan for this case?”

  Jackson glared at Colton Adams over the rim of his coffee cup. It was still early—pitch-black-sky early—and Jackson hadn’t slept enough to keep a civil tongue in his head where Colton was concerned.

  “We need to figure out who’s trying to hurt Aja Everett.” He summarized the events as he knew them for his team.

  Colton stretched out in his chair facing Jackson’s desk, crossing his legs and appearing the picture of comfort. “What do we know about the victim?”

  “Her uncle is a friend of Hargrove’s. He gave me the highlight notes her uncle supplied.” Jackson pulled a file off his desk and handed it to Colton. “But he’s her uncle, so I’m running a thorough background check of my own. Only a few details came in yet. The rest will be forthcoming.”

  Colton scanned through the information before returning his attention to Jackson. “The file says she’s got two employees who did time. You looking at them for this?”

  “I’m lookin’ at everyone. A bold son of a bitch tried to blow up a woman on her own land yesterday. I’m looking at anyone who had motive and opportunity. Including the ex-cons she’s got working for her. They are potential victims and suspects. It’s up to us to figure out which.”

  “With only the three of us?” That question came from Storm Cordero. He was the newest member of their group. Team-centered, always there to offer help, and eager to learn, Storm had quickly become the glue that held this set together. He was also the buffer that kept two bristly personalities like Jackson and Colton from sparking to the point of combustion.

  “I tried to get more manpower”—Jackson sipped another mouthful of his coffee before continuing—“but that’s a no-go. We’ll have Blaze Gleason and Kade Jennings here at the office to follow leads, get warrants, and interview the townsfolk. Since yesterday, they’ve been out on protection detail with the victim. They should be bringing her in for an official statement in an hour. So that leaves the three of us on the ground at the ranch.”

  Colton and Storm nodded in unison.

  “Good, consider yourselves briefed,” Jackson said. “Let’s get this investigation underway.” He sent up a silent prayer for quick resolution of this case while his colleagues filed out of his office. He flipped the file Colton had left on his desk and stared at the happy image of the confident woman in the picture. The idea of that beautiful smile slipping off her face because of fear weighed on him.

  Maybe it was that he’d assumed her complaint wasn’t a valid one the moment he discovered she was a VIP. Maybe it was the news that her property had been destroyed and she’d narrowly missed the danger. Or maybe it was the realization he didn’t believe the fearless woman full of life in that photograph should ever deserve to be afraid to walk on her land. Whatever it was, Jackson was determined to keep her safe. The best way for him to do that was to put himself between Aja Everett and whoever was after her.

  * * *

  Aja sat in the back seat of the large, black SUV and focused on the scenery rushing by on the highway. The landscape was slowly turning from dirt road to paved city expressways as the vehicle ate up miles beneath its tires. By her count, they had another sixty minutes remaining of the ninety-minute trip from her small town of Fresh Springs to the big city of Austin.

  Her ringing phone caught her notice, drawing her back into her unpleasant reality. She took a breath, recognizing the ringtone and dreading the conversation she knew she’d be forced to have.

  “Morning, Uncle Ricky.” She fought to keep her voice level and light, hoping to avoid her uncle’s intense protective streak.

  “Morning, Aja. Did you reach Austin yet?”

  “No, sir. We’re about an hour out.”

  “Major Hargrove tells me he’s putting his best man on this. So you just g’on in there, tell ’im what’s happening, and let him find out who’s responsible for all this trouble on the ranch.”

  She pressed back into the soft cushion of the seat, letting her head fall against the headrest for support.

  “Uncle Ricky. I already know who’s responsible for the vandalism on the ranch.”

  “Hmmm,” he harrumphed. “We both have our the
ories about that.”

  “Brooklyn and Seneca had nothing to do with this.”

  “That remains to be seen.” She could hear his frustration level climbing, and she knew there were only a few moments left before he started hollering over the line. “ All we do know is someone caused a fiery explosion at your barn yesterday. When your life is in the balance, everyone is a suspect, including the two ex-convicts you have living out there with you.”

  “Uncle Ricky—”

  “You could’ve been killed.” Aja swallowed the protest on her tongue and let her uncle’s words sink in. He wasn’t wrong. If her employee hadn’t called her name before she reached the barn, Aja would’ve been inside when the electric wiring ignited the kerosene lamps and her barn went up in a loud burst of flames. “Dammit, Aja! Why are you so stubborn?”

  “Uncle Ricky, I’m fine. Yes, my barn was destroyed, but the only thing that happened to me was a cut on my head that didn’t even need stitches.”

  “I wouldn’t care if the only thing you got was a broken nail. You are not setting foot back on that ranch, Aja. Not until Mat gets those ex-convicts off your property and you are unenrolled from that Pathways program.”

  The stiffness in her uncle’s voice, coupled with the mention of Seneca and Brooklyn’s parole officer Mat Ryan, made her head throb. She called this her uncle’s “judge voice.” He’d spent so many years using it to call people to order that he foolishly believed she’d fall in line when he used it on her too. “You know I won’t agree to anything like that. I can’t leave Aunt Jo and my employees to fend for themselves on the ranch.”

  “No,” he replied. “I don’t want my sister in harm’s way, either, so I already moved Jo to my house. It’s a gated community with round-the-clock security. She’ll be fine, and so will you once you’re under my roof too.”

  She tried to shake her head, but it throbbed from the movement, so she rubbed her temple instead. “Uncle Ricky. You’re doing way too much. I don’t want all this.”

  “You may not want it, but it’s what’s happening. I’m only waiting for Mat to figure out what to do with the parolees you’re harboring before I send someone out there to close the ranch down.”

  She pulled the phone from her ear and glared at it for a long moment. “No, Uncle Ricky,” she hollered, and she immediately regretted raising her voice when the Rangers each glanced back at her. She quieted her voice before resuming her conversation. “I’m not gonna let you close my ranch down.”

  His lack of immediate response told her he was gearing up for a fight. If she knew her uncle, he was squinting over his glasses, trying to put the fear that only southern elders managed to instill into their young’uns into her, even though they were on the phone. He was good, but she was better. She managed a similar glare of her own, slowly tilting her head to keep the achy stiffness from yesterday’s drama from settling in again. “Uncle Ricky, you were the one who told me to fight for what I believed in. I believe in these women. I believe in the Pathways program. Why can’t you support my decision to help them rebuild their lives?”

  “Aja, you’re my niece. My only niece.” His voice cracked.

  Aja swallowed, trying to shove down the grief that was suddenly clawing at her. God, she still missed her sister.

  Yesterday morning before all hell broke loose, she’d been proud of her ability to move on these last two years. But in moments like this, when she had to deal with her grief—and her uncle’s too—Aja felt like she was right back at the start of her own personal hell.

  She took a deep breath, trying to desperately quiet the sad thoughts swirling in her head. “Uncle Ricky, you’ve called in the Texas Rangers against my will. I’ll go along with them investigating the vandalism because obviously things have gotten out of hand. But I am not shutting my ranch down, and I’m not abandoning Seneca and Brooklyn when they’ve done nothing to deserve it. My house, my rules. Isn’t that what you always say to me when I set foot into your place?”

  Aja saw the Ranger in the passenger seat sneaking a sideways glance at her. She’d deal with him when this was over. Right now, she needed to get her uncle off her back.

  “All right, Aja. As long as you let the Rangers do their job, I’ll back off. But if there’s any more trouble, I don’t wanna hear a damn thing other than the sound of your boots headed out of that place. You understand me?”

  “Yessuh.”

  She ended the call and focused her attention on the Ranger who was still trying to hide the smirk on his face.

  “Is there something you need to say, Ranger…Gleason is it?”

  He shook his head. “No, ma’am.”

  “You sure? The expression on your face seems to say otherwise.”

  He shook his head again. “No, just thinking that my boss, Ranger Dean, ain’t ready for you.”

  She shifted in her seat, crossing her arms as she leveled a pointed stare at him. “No man ever is.”

  And she doubted this Ranger Dean would be an exception to that rule. Ever since her uncle had called the Rangers in last night, she’d surmised they, like her uncle, would never look further than the obvious suspects Seneca and Brooklyn seemed. But that was all right. Aja always had a plan. She hadn’t been one of the most successful trial attorneys in New York for nothing. Her gift was always being able to outstrategize her opponents.

  This Texas Ranger wouldn’t be any different as far as she was concerned. She wanted this case solved, but not at her ladies’ expense. To avoid that, she’d simply have to get Ranger Dean off their scent with the same steps she used to win over unforgiving juries.

  Step one: Humanize the defendants. Step two: Provide an alternate version of the crime. Step three: Create a reasonable doubt the defendants could ever have committed the crime. Step four (the most important step of all): Smile and turn those that would condemn you into your advocates. Make your enemy do the fighting for you.

  A calm stillness spread over her and she returned to staring out the window. Brooklyn and Seneca were counting on her. She’d done this before with great success; there was no reason Aja could see that it shouldn’t work now when her success was more important than adding another mark in her win column.

  A smile crept onto her lips as her plan solidified. Aja had the perfect strategy and her secret weapon was tucked away safely in the cargo area of the SUV.

  I won’t let you down, ladies.

  Chapter 3

  Jackson tried to keep his mind empty as he waited in his office for Gleason and Jennings to arrive with Aja Everett. It was a common practice of his, mellowing enough to push distractions out of his head before the start of a case. But every time he attempted to do it, the image of the confident woman striking a model’s pose with her hip jutted out and her hands on her waist popped into his head.

  Jackson caught himself groaning and was thankful Colton and Storm had left him alone. The idea of having to explain to his coworkers why he was so distracted had no appeal.

  He glanced down at the open case file on his desk and thumped his finger on top of it. The three of them at the ranch weren’t nearly enough to investigate as many angles as they needed to, but they’d been in tighter spots, and they worked well together. With Gleason and Jennings backing them up at headquarters, hopefully there would be a quick and effective end to all this. Because if the way he couldn’t take his eyes off the sumptuous beauty’s photo was any sign, spending time with Aja Everett was bound to be a problem for him.

  A tap on his door drew his attention as Colton leaned in. “Gleason and Jennings are in the parking lot with Ms. Everett. You want me to put her in one of the interrogation rooms?”

  Jackson shook his head. She was the niece of a sitting judge and the victim of a serious crime. Putting her in an interrogation room could be misconstrued in all sorts of ways. That was grief he didn’t need. “No, bring her in here.”

  C
olton tapped on his phone’s screen. When he was done, he opened the door wide and he and Storm walked in. “Message sent. They’ll come directly here.”

  Another knock on the door, and Jennings stepped inside, greeting Jackson and their colleagues while holding the door open and jerking a thumb behind him. Jackson blinked, and suddenly Aja Everett was filling his doorway in the flesh.

  And what lovely flesh it was. She wore a red blouse with a black fitted suit vest and matching black slacks that hung like a second skin on her. No way she pulled that outfit off any rack, the way the material seemed to lovingly hold each of her curves. It was a power suit, battle armor for the powerful attorney the preliminary background check he’d run said she was.

  “Morning, Ranger Dean.” A bright smile graced her lips. “May I come inside?”

  Jackson was caught off guard by the greeting. Her outfit, the stacked platform heels that peeked out from the hem of her pants, even the bloodred matte lipstick she wore told him firmly she was poised to attack. Her easy smile seemed out of place.

  “Please, call me Jackson.” He ushered her into the room, then pointed to Colton and Storm seated at the conference table. “These are the rest of my team members, Colton Adams and Storm Cordero.” She waved at each of them before looking at Jackson. “Can I offer you a cup of coffee before we begin?”

  “From a federal building?” She shook her head. “I care about my health more than that. In fact, I brought my own coffee and snacks too.” She raised her hand in a graceful wave and pointed toward the door. Like magic, Gleason appeared at the door pushing a cart with a large thermal coffee dispenser and two large insulated food bags.

  Jackson closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He moaned as his stomach protested that breakfast so far had been one and a half cups of bad black coffee.

  He opened his eyes, and his chest tightened as he took in the sight of her again. She looked even more tempting standing in front of him now than she had in the picture in her file.