Jackson

by Jackson (retail) (epub)

She unzipped the food bags and pulled out two large pans of what looked and smelled like the best cinnamon rolls he would ever have in his life. When she was finished setting up the food and made disposable cutlery and flatware appear out of thin air, she returned to Jackson and his men with a broad, welcoming smile.

  “You didn’t need to go through this kind of trouble, Ms. Everett.”

  She lifted her shoulders, dismissing his comment. “My mama taught me to never show up anywhere empty-handed. It’s bad manners.”

  He chuckled. Aja might be a New Yorker, but her southern sensibilities were definitely showing.

  “Now that that’s settled, I hope you gentlemen don’t mind something sweet, hot, and sticky for breakfast.”

  Jackson closed his eyes again as he tried to control his breathing. He’d hoped for short and simple. But this woman standing in the middle of his office, looking the picture of a poised, dominant professional mixed with a touch of down-home goodness, was as complicated a start to this case as Jackson could imagine.

  A two-dimensional Aja Everett in a photo, Jackson could deal with. But this tempting stranger, smiling as she offered him something sweet, hot, and sticky, would not be easy at all.

  * * *

  “So what brought you out to Fresh Springs, all the way from New York?”

  You mean besides the world caving in on me and attempting to swallow me whole?

  Aja gave a sweeping pass to the three remaining Rangers at the table before focusing on Jackson. The two men who’d watched her all night grabbed a few rolls and some coffee before taking their leave.

  Gleason and Jennings hadn’t invaded her space. They’d worked diligently to stay out of her way. But the way Jackson’s gaze burned into her gave Aja the feeling he wouldn’t leave her in peace as his colleagues had.

  Aja placed a practiced smile on her face before answering. “My aunt Jo needed help with the ranch. My mom used to send me—” Aja stopped herself before she could finish. She grabbed the fork resting on her plate and cut a healthy piece of the cinnamon roll. She shoved it into her mouth and chewed until she could feel the jitters in her stomach subside. “She used to send me down here every summer when school was out. With so many fond memories, it wasn’t that difficult a choice to say yes when Aunt Jo called.”

  Aja put down her fork and reached for the disposable coffee cup sitting in front of her plate. She needed another moment to get her nerves together, and eating and drinking would allow her that without raising suspicion. She was firm in that belief until her eyes met Jackson’s and she felt a chill spill down her spine.

  “So it was your aunt’s idea to turn this place into an ex-convicts’ paradise?”

  Aja bit the inside of her lip to make certain the tongue-lashing she was struggling to swallow wouldn’t escape into the air.

  “Jackson, the women who work on my ranch are more than parolees. Yes, they made choices in the past that led them down an unfortunate road, but that doesn’t define who they are.”

  “You sure about that?”

  She gave him a terse look, wondering if the asshole he was displaying was for her benefit or if this was his natural disposition.

  She was about to give him a piece of her mind when he took a sip from his coffee cup, leaving an errant drop on his bottom lip that he summarily collected with a single swipe of his long, pink tongue. The world somehow slowed down as she watched with envy.

  She closed her eyes to retreat from one tempting image when her brain decided to conjure up the picture of him standing in front of his desk when she arrived.

  He was tall with tight, low-cropped dark curls at the top of his head and a full, neatly trimmed beard whose lines looked as if someone had carved them into his face. She wondered if his beard would prickle to the touch, like sharp wire against delicate skin, or if it would tickle and entice, inviting someone to stroke it. Her fingers itched to find out. That beard was a statement, a promise a person was in for a rough ride and they would like it.

  Her mind’s eye took the scenic journey down the length of him. Dark-brown eyes stared back at her. She’d swear she’d seen a spark of interest in them when she’d stepped inside this room. The deep brown skin on his face and neck and the loving way the fabric of his shirt and slacks outlined the solid build of his body made her blood run hot. He was beautiful and strong. A proud Black man who exuded confidence with each breath he drew.

  “Ms. Everett?”

  The use of her formal name cleared some of the haze clouding her brain. She focused on the voice; it was deep, but not as full as Jackson’s. She followed the sound until she was staring at Storm Cordero.

  He was Latinx, slightly shorter than Jackson, but not by much. His build was broad and wide, his corded muscles filling out the plain white shirt he wore. With a head full of midnight curls and a smile that said he liked trouble more than he should, Aja could see how women could easily fall for a man like that. But other than good looks worth a passing acknowledgment, nothing about him spoke to her or pulled at her the way the dark, brooding vibes his boss was giving off from the other side of the table did.

  Storm’s face, bright with amusement, and dark eyes shining with laughter said he knew she wasn’t paying attention. She was busted.

  A quick glance around the table told her Colton and, thankfully, Jackson were engaged in eating and not looking directly at her. But Storm knew she was watching his boss like a starving woman watched a fine cut of steak.

  “I’m sorry, could you repeat yourself, please?”

  The side of Storm’s mouth tilted in a lopsided grin and he replied. “Sure. I asked how Ms. Daniels and Ms. Osborn were chosen for this program. Did you select them yourself, or was it a random lottery? What criteria were used to determine they’d be suitable candidates for this Pathways program you mentioned?”

  Storm’s questions were still centered on Seneca and Brooklyn, but they didn’t sound as accusatory coming from him as they did Jackson.

  “I volunteered at the state penitentiary shortly after I arrived in Fresh Springs. I instantly saw that all the women in that horrible place weren’t the monsters the world makes them out to be. I wanted to help. The Pathways program is a way for me to do that. Seneca and Brooklyn were two of the top candidates who fit the program’s requirements. They each were model prisoners. They’d both been granted recent paroles with two years or fewer left on their sentences. They also had to have a marketable skill they could use to assist with the restoration of the ranch.”

  “What specific skills do they have?” The deep rumblings of Jackson’s voice made her feel both intrigued and anxious at the same time. She glared at him briefly before answering.

  “Seneca is a former IT network director. She knows how to build computer networks, which is essential for a resort business. Everything from booking the cabins to payments to communication between the staff is all done digitally. If we don’t have a proper network set up, we can’t make money.

  “Brooklyn is an architect. She’s responsible for renovating the existing cabin structures and creating designs for new buildings I want erected on the property. She’ll work closely with the construction crew I’ve hired to turn this dusty plot of land into something tourists will pay good money to stay at.”

  Jackson pushed his now-empty plate away from him and picked up the pen and paper he’d rested beside it. “And you can afford to fund such a major project on a lawyer’s salary?” He hadn’t bothered to look in her direction. Instead, he gripped a pen between his fingers and kept his hand hovering over his notepad as he awaited her responses.

  Prick.

  That wasn’t the lone insult she could think to appropriately describe Jackson. From where Aja sat, he was rude, dismissive, and didn’t appear at all capable of thinking beyond the obvious. Why her uncle believed he would be an answer to Aja’s troubles was beyond her. But when he lifted his
eyes from his all-important notepad and allowed the weight of his stare to pour over her, Aja was certain of one thing. Bending him to her will might not be as easy as she’d believed.

  In the depths of his dark eyes she saw a flash of power that rivaled her own, and as she watched his eyes fall from her face and down the not-so-subtle line of her cleavage, Aja felt a wave of trepidation pulse through her. Wanting him she could handle. Him being unable to keep his eyes off her ample bosom wasn’t anything she couldn’t manage either. But seeing the way need blazed in his eyes every time he watched her gave Aja pause. Because that fire called to her in ways that would make it so easy for her to surrender to him.

  Aja pulled her eyes away from his face, needing a moment to get herself together and get back to the plan at hand. She needed to be more strategic in her handling of the man sitting directly across the table from her. Otherwise she was figuratively and possibly literally screwed.

  Chapter 4

  “I’m not your average lawyer, Jackson.”

  I’m pretty certain nothing about you is average.

  Jackson bit the inside of his jaw to keep from speaking those words and tried to think of monotonous things—like office inventory requisition forms and doing payroll for his unit—to cool his blood.

  He hazarded another glance at her and knew in that instant he’d lost the battle to keep his mind focused on this case. The table hid half of her, but her curves were still on full display in the V-neck of her fitted blouse and vest.

  Jackson had never cared much about a woman being well-endowed or not. The truth: since his marriage crashed and burned, beyond physical companionship, he merely required a woman be unattached and not looking for anything more than a liaison or two to sate baser needs.

  But sitting here trying his best to keep his mind from wondering what was beyond the first buttons of her blouse and vest took considerably more effort than it should.

  “I’m afraid that’s not a real answer to my question, Aja.”

  When she still didn’t answer, he put down his pen and crossed his arms. “Ms. Everett? How exactly can you afford this as an unemployed lawyer?”

  “I was the managing partner of my law firm in New York. We weren’t a small-time operation. We specialized in what I like to call ‘celebrity criminal law.’ All the celebrities you see getting into major trouble on all the gossip news shows, my firm was usually responsible for getting them off with little to no legal ramifications. Our clients paid us very well for our services. As managing partner, I received the biggest slice of the profit pie. I have more than enough liquid cash to build this resort. And even if it goes belly up, my investments will keep me nice and comfy until I close my eyes to this world.”

  Jackson picked his pen up and scribbled a few lines on his notepad. “So you’re paying the ex-convicts a fair wage?”

  “Market value,” she answered. “So no, neither of them would have reason to retaliate against me for making them work for a pittance. I treat my workers well. Their employment and compensation packages are competitive with their education and work experience, minus the cost of room and board, since housing comes with the job. My people have no reason to do this, Jackson. So can we stop focusing on them and look for the real culprit?”

  “What if you’re wrong? What if your little social experiment has gone belly up and the very people you’re protecting are the ones responsible for damaging your property and terrorizing and nearly killing you?”

  He knew he’d crossed a line the moment the words left his lips. He saw a spark of anger flash in her eyes before she stood and collected her used dish and coffee cup from the table. Her movements were aggressive and quick, and he worried the innocent paper products might pay the price for his words.

  “Aja—”

  She held up a finger to interrupt him. “I don’t like repeating myself, Ranger Dean. However, since it seems you didn’t get the message earlier, I’ll reiterate it now. My uncle’s idea of help was to send you and your men. I wasn’t on board with that. But I’m willing to put my dislike aside and work with you to keep my people and my property safe. However, if you can’t let go of your bias long enough to seek the truth, then you may as well stop wasting both our time.”

  She didn’t turn away from him as she spoke. No, Aja leaned in, bringing her face and the controlled fury he could see bubbling beneath the surface of the calm veneer she wore closer to him. “The Rangers are our last hope. The sheriff will lock Seneca and Brooklyn up for the mere crime of being parolees in his town. He has made it abundantly clear he doesn’t want them in Fresh Springs. So if you and your men are here simply to pile on, I can tell you I’ve officially had enough. You can close this case, and I’ll tell my uncle I asked you to do so. There’ll be no repercussions for you.”

  She turned and started zipping up the now-empty food insulation bags on the cart. A quick glance to either side of him found hard set eyes glaring at him.

  He’d been working long enough with these men to catalog their disapproval of his behavior without them needing to say a word.

  He pointed toward the door and whispered, “Give us a minute,” before he stood from the table. Colton and Storm followed suit, walking through his office doorway and closing the door behind him with an intentional click. Jackson cleared the rest of the table before facing her.

  “Aja, I didn’t mean to offend you.”

  “I’m a big girl, Jackson. I’m not worried about you offending me. I’m worried about protecting Seneca and Brooklyn from being sent back to prison based on nothing more than their past convictions. Prior bad acts aren’t allowed in a court of law for a reason. They shouldn’t be used as an excuse to make a collar either.”

  “Agreed,” he proceeded. “But I can’t ignore their pasts either. I have to look at all the evidence, Aja. And usually, no matter how much people would like to believe otherwise, it’s those with access to victims that perpetrate crimes against them.”

  She was wiping down the surface of the coffee carafe with a furious circular motion. He couldn’t say what made him reach out to her and place a stilling hand at the top of her shoulder, applying slight pressure to encourage her to stop her machinations with the disposable napkins. But whatever it was, when she stopped and leaned into his touch instead of pulling away from him, a weight lifted off his chest.

  “Aja.” His voice was raspier than usual, rough like he’d just awoken. It sounded weird to his own ears. “I can’t promise you I won’t look into Seneca and Brooklyn. What I can promise is that I will run a fair investigation and look at all parties that make reasonable suspects. So why don’t you stop assaulting that carafe and come sit and tell me who you think might be responsible for your troubles.”

  She turned to face him. There was a gleam of something bright in her eyes, and the joy of seeing it there made him want to curl his lips into a wide grin. What the hell was it about this woman that made him want to do silly things like smile when he saw hope dancing in her eyes?

  Jackson knew he’d regret giving in to the delight swirling around the bottom of his belly right then. “Is that agreeable, Counselor?”

  She smiled back and Jackson felt an invisible band squeeze around his heart. He decided right there that she should always have that look of hope and anticipation painted across the soft lines of her face. It felt so good that he’d put it there, and he was certain he’d give near anything to see it remain.

  “Yes, Jackson.” The breathy way his name rolled off her tongue and slid through her lips made his blood simmer. She stepped closer to him and widened her crimson smile. “That’s completely agreeable.”

  And in that moment when her smile felt like pure temptation, Jackson knew one thing: he was in trouble.

  Chapter 5

  “Eli Bennett.” She pulled her features into tight lines as if she’d tasted something bitter. “He’s sort of the unofficial mayor there
. His money and influence have garnered him the loyalty of our neighbors.”

  A light knock on the door pulled their attention away from their conversation. Storm’s face peeked through the small opening with a lifted brow, silently asking if it was okay to enter. Jackson waved him in, grateful it was considerate Storm at the door instead of bullish Colton.

  As his men filed in and sat around the table again, he watched Aja with careful attention. He’d never seen her in a courtroom, but the way she handled him made him think twice about taking her on. The fire she’d directed at him as she defended her two wards made him think she must have been a formidable opponent across the aisle. And there was something about the light trigger she had on her mouth that made him wonder what it would be like to be on the receiving end of all that passion for reasons that had nothing to do with being cursed out.

  “Okay, so you think Bennett is the culprit. Why? What’s he done to make you think he could be capable of something like this?”

  She smoothed her hands out flat on the table in front of her. “I mentioned before that Aunt Jo needed help with the ranch. It wasn’t merely physical labor she needed. The ranch’s finances were in trouble. I inherited the ranch from my mother five years ago. I wasn’t really in the best frame of mind after losing my mom, so I let Aunt Jo handle everything where the ranch was concerned. In her worry over my grief, she failed to inform me the taxes were in arrears. She tried to handle it all on her own, but she couldn’t. We were in danger of losing everything.

  “Eli Bennett offered to buy the ranch, and when she refused to sell, because she couldn’t actually sell it without my knowledge, he used his influence to get his cronies in the local government to deny her extensions on the back taxes. When I finally discovered what was going on, I came down here, paid the taxes, and took the ranch off the auction block.”

  Jackson continued to write things down on his notepad. “Why does Bennett want your spread bad enough to make you and your ranch his special project? Is there oil on the land?”