by Fiona Keane
CHAPTER EIGHT
“Soph.” Jameson’s lips met my forehead. “Wake up.”
“Is it over?”
“The storm is over,” Thomas announced with continued distaste on his lips. “But this is just beginning. You two need to come out here. Now.”
I had blindly forgotten we were with Thomas and Elizabeth. I didn’t even remember if any dreams had passed through my mind while I fell into a haze beneath Jameson’s fingertips against my back.
Thomas was standing against the doorway of the safe room, dressed in jeans and a red t-shirt. His arms were crossed tightly along his chest, almost as tense as my insides were twisting.
“We’ll meet you downstairs,” Jameson told him, poking out from the crawlspace.
“There’s barely a downstairs left,” Thomas scoffed. “There’s a palm tree in the living room.”
“Then we’ll meet you in the kitchen.”
“Fine.” Thomas’s footsteps drifted and I waited until utter silence had fallen once again before looking at Jameson. He was kneeling at the door of the crawlspace, holding his arms toward me.
“I can’t leave.”
“I’m right here. The hurricane is over,” he encouraged, the sparkling in his hazel eyes had returned.
His mouth twisted into a smile, a delicious and intoxicating grin just like the first day I had met him. I held his hands and let him pull me out and lift me up toward him.
“See?” Jameson kissed my forehead while holding me against him. “It’s over. At least that part of our storm is over.”
He stood, reluctantly separating our bodies, and held his hands out to support me as we made the treacherous journey down broken stairs and across sand-filled rooms coated with shattered glass and tossed furniture. I didn’t understand how in the middle of everything, the physical hurricane and subsequent emotional rampage, Jameson holding my hand threw my nerves into frenzy.
Elizabeth was holding a measuring cup in her hands, slowly lifting it to her mouth in a daze while she stood in the kitchen. Upon closer inspection, I noticed it was full of her coffee. Then it hit me. The kitchen was the only semi-sustained room on this level. I peered around the doorway of the kitchen into the Kerrys’ massive living room. A palm tree was resting in the center, smashed right onto the couch I rested on when they pulled me out of the water. A chill tingled along my spine with that memory.
Jameson’s throat cleared, announcing our entrance. His arms wrapped around my shoulders from behind, protectively embracing me. Nobody had ever held me like that before, like they couldn’t let me out of their sight and wouldn’t let go of me.
“I’ve tried to get Thomas to calm down because there’s nothing one can do if he lacks all reason.” Elizabeth sipped her measuring cup and smiled at me.
She smiled at me. What a change. I didn’t know if I felt entirely comfortable with her newfound compassion or if it increased my anxiety. Jameson’s arm tightened across my chest when Thomas entered the kitchen.
“We need to figure out why Simon Bellini was having you tracked.” He waved pieces of my phone toward Jameson, not regarding my presence or Elizabeth’s.
“Why would he do that?” I mumbled, my eyes fatefully locking with Thomas’s. Cringe.
“Sophia,” he sighed, almost as though my name pained him. “Exactly how much do you know about Simon Bellini?”
Hold on. How is this even possible? There was a palm tree in the center of their living room. A piece of the roof had been torn from that part of the house. Elizabeth could only find a measuring glass for her coffee. She was making coffee. Like we hadn’t just been through a hurricane?
I glanced out of the kitchen window, mesmerized by a sailboat that now rested against their patio door. The Kerrys had the same view as Simon, having lived blocks away on their peninsula of wealth, and it was haunting to remember recently looking at the same horizon with Olivia. Olivia. I tugged on Jameson’s elbow, rewarded by the soft expression of concern pouring from his sweet hazel eyes.
“What?”
“Is Olivia okay?”
“She’s fine,” Thomas snapped. “I already called our friends and they’re fine. Now, Sophia, answer my question.”
“Thomas,” Jameson snarled. “Chill out. She doesn’t know anything. She isn’t a criminal.”
“I wasn’t suggesting she was a criminal, Jameson, but I shouldn’t be the only one concerned about whether or not her aunt’s boyfriend is one.”
“Simon? A criminal?” The thought made me want to laugh, but looking at Thomas immediately doused the fire of entertainment in my thoughts.
He was livid. I understood entirely how Jameson’s demeanor drastically changed after just a phone call with that man.
“Um…” I swallowed, trying to hide behind Jameson. “…I don’t know much about Simon. He’s just my aunt’s boyfriend and that’s all I know him as. I don’t see much of Simon anyway. They’re always at Simon’s house. He’s been kind to me.”
“He would be,” Thomas scoffed, standing from the kitchen table. I noticed half of it was covered in sand.
“He would do anything to get your trust, Sophia. I don’t mean this to be offensive, but you’re an ideal target.”
Target. No. That word alone was enough to undo every ounce of resolve holding my trembling body together. Jameson’s arms reached behind him, pulling me against him. I knew he could feel my rapid heart against his back. He spun around, continuing to keep me within his arms.
“That word,” he mentioned while my head shook in a pathetic attempt to calm my nerves. “Let’s go outside.”
I methodically followed Jameson as he turned me away from the kitchen and guided us through the shattered living room. We stepped through the broken wall, walking alongside the invading palm tree, rather than going through the patio door. It was startling and humbling to see the devastation around us. Boats from the marina were everywhere; through houses, on houses, upside down. That could have been me. I wobbled, feeling uneasy and anxious while following Jameson through the sand, which poured into homes from the beach.
“Walk with me,” he whispered, holding his left arm out for me.
My fingers trembled, delighting in the spark that rushed along my soul as our skin met. I glanced up at him, mesmerized by the way with which Jameson smiled at me. My ankles hurt with the extra effort required to walk over the sand that contained so much debris. Chairs, clothing, an empty dog crate, insulation…
“Thomas has a great knack for considering the feelings of others, doesn’t he?” Jameson’s tone was filled with spite, but the sarcastic chuckle that followed only reminded me of how miserable he must have been living in their prison for so many years.
“I’m sorry.” The whisper blurted from my mouth. He stopped, searching my face with his beautifully concerned hazel eyes.
“Why are you apologizing?”
“It isn’t fair that your life is how it is.” I struggled to show him my compassion, sure that I sounded like a blabbering moron with each second he watched me in silence. “It isn’t fair that your parents are dead, that you’re stuck here with them, that you can’t be who you really are.”
“This is me though.” He lifted our intertwined fingers to his lips, pressing softly and filling my soul with his healing aura. “There isn’t a single thing about me that you don’t know anymore. I’m not going to keep anything from you, Soph. If this is going to work, we have to promise to be honest with one another. No running.”
“It’s what I do,” I mumbled, feeling my eyes gloss over while watching his mouth again touch our fingers.
“Then we’ll run together.” He shrugged.
My response was silence, probably because I couldn’t fathom what I had done to attract Jameson to me or why he persisted on intertwining not only our fingers, but joining the violent trauma we shared.
“I hate that word,” I released through shaking breath. “The…my mom’s…that’s what he said she was. We were.”
&
nbsp; “Targets?” His free hand found my cheeks, cupping to support my stability while his eyes glowed golden into mine like perfectly lit halos of peace. Jameson’s fingers combed through my hair, placing some behind my ear while his eyes scanned my face.
“You never were one,” he assured me. “And I will never let you be one.”
“Sophia!” The scream pulled my attention from Jameson as I turned to see the source.
Jameson stepped in front of me, holding my right hand behind him. He was protecting me. I squinted my eyes to see, blinded by the reflective white sand that covered almost everything. I peeked over Jameson’s shoulder, covering my forehead as I scanned.
“Sophia!”
“It’s your aunt,” Jameson whispered, his head tilting to speak to me over his shoulder. “She’s alone.”
I stepped from behind his protective shadow, clinging to the fabric of his sweatshirt. Jules was waving frantically, climbing along the beach over barricades of debris.
“What do I tell her?”
“Whatever you want,” Jameson offered. “I wouldn’t tell her Simon chipped your phone yet though.”
“Of course not.”
“And don’t tell her about Gabe,” he swallowed, the name painfully leaving his lips.
“Of course not.” My right hand clung to his right arm while my left hand held his.
Of course I wouldn’t tell anyone about Gabe. The way Jameson mentioned his own name as though Gabriel was a stranger broke me. He really had to pretend his life before coming to Florida was all a nightmare and assume Jameson’s identity. He truly was forced to erase all the happy memories from his childhood, and there I was like a fool, bragging about my favorite flavor crepe.
CHAPTER NINE
JAMESON
Soph was beginning to claw a hole in my arm, practically piercing the skin while her aunt approached. She was nearly cowering behind me like a child, despite Jules being her aunt.
I was distracted for a fleeting second, watching a stray dog run across the sand between demolished homes. Thomas and Elizabeth’s was barely touched, compared to the wreckage around us. Soph stepped out from behind me and my gaze followed, naturally drawn to her. I had never seen her so drained, so riddled with fatigue and stress, even after almost drowning.
Why do I keep going back to that?
My eyes followed the way her messy strawberry blonde hair tickled her porcelain face with the breeze. She was exquisite in this weather, the gray, misty sky that was accompanied by patches of blinding white sunlight. This must have been what she looked like in Oregon, minus the raw nerves I could practically feel when she touched me.
“Jameson. Sophia.” Jules’s arms snaked around Soph, but Soph’s hand didn’t stray from mine. “Oh, ma chère, I was so worried for you. You just left in the middle of the night! Don’t ever do that again.”
“I’m eighteen,” Soph reminded her.
I bit my bottom lip to stop the laughter that threatened with her response. She is eighteen and she left in the middle of the night because your boyfriend has a file on us. Then she almost drowned. Shit.
“I know, darling, but we were so worried about you. When Thomas called Simon, it only made us worry even more because we couldn’t be with you.”
“You were more worried about her being here than somewhere unknown?” I blurted.
Because she could’ve drowned. That would’ve been the alternative. Thanks to your boyfriend…and me.
“No.” Jules shook her head, patting Sophia’s hair while she addressed us. “I just…you must have been utterly terrified, ma chère. Jameson, are your aunt and uncle home?”
“Oui,” Soph mumbled, causing my heart to tremble at the sound lifting from her tongue. “Ils sont à l'intérieur de la maison. Allez voir.”
Jules kissed Soph’s forehead and briefly scanned her attire, probably ensuring she was in one piece…and maybe considering the fact Soph was in my clothes. Soph was in my clothes. I was dying. Literally.
“She’s going to talk to Thomas and Elizabeth,” Soph interrupted my daydream. “We should figure out what to do about Simon.”
“What did you say to her?”
“What?”
“In French. You speak fluent French, don’t you?”
“Un peu. Ma mère était française. Je m'excuse. Je ne parlerai pas en face française de vous encore, Jameson.”
My heart stopped. “You’re amazing, Sophia.”
She looked up at me, a smile flirting with a soft pink glow gracing her face. “What happened to Soph?”
I kissed her. Twice. “She’s here.” Thank God.
“I don’t want to be anywhere else, Jameson.” Her head rested against my shoulder, pulling my heart to my knees. “Please don’t leave me again.”
“Jameson! Sophia!” Elizabeth’s screech even startled the seagulls.
We reluctantly turned around and headed toward the house. Jules had distracted us so much that I forgot to see if Soph was better from her attack, from Thomas’s poor vocabulary. As we approached the sandy yard that contained more of the beach than I had noticed, Soph turned to me.
“What?” I held my hand out for her, hoping to guide her in through the space next to the palm tree.
It was more fun this way. I’m sure it was pissing off Thomas. She stepped in and turned again, staring at my eyes. Hers were so blue—vivid, bright, far deeper than she allowed most to see.
“Merci de me protéger.”
She was trying to kill me.
“Darling,” Jules announced, stepping into the sandy living room.
Looking around, I remembered the last time we’d spent time in there. I was so mad at Soph. Furious. She found out about me. She ran. She almost…stop it.
“I was telling Thomas and Elizabeth that Simon had to run off already. Some of his properties along St. Pete’s are just destroyed. I haven’t even been to our house yet…or what’s left of it.”
“Oh,” Soph whispered.
I glanced between her and Thomas as he entered the room, his arms furiously crossed against his chest.
“Turns out Simon’s gone for a few days.” His eyes bored into mine. “Elizabeth, you should take Sophia and Jules back to their house and let them check on things. Jameson and I have some business to do around here.”
“Of course.” Elizabeth smiled. I hadn’t noticed her enter, my mind was racing with the spinning wheels behind Thomas’s eyes.
“I don’t know how they’re going to have a graduation ceremony,” Jules mumbled. “The school is probably in shambles. Mon Dieu. Ce n'est pas bien.”
She was talking to herself, muttering something in French that I couldn’t understand, while Elizabeth wrapped an arm around her.
“Sophia,” Elizabeth said as she escorted Jules away from the room. “Meet us outside.”
Thomas, Soph, and I were statues until we heard the front door close. My eyes moved first, down to Soph, and then to Thomas. He was staring at me expectantly.
“What do we do?” She was the first to break the silence.
“Well,” Thomas sighed, “if Simon is really not at home, that gives us time to see what’s left of his things.”
“I took the file,” Soph interjected. “It’s here.”
Thomas’s head shook. “It is bigger than one file, my dear. Simon works for the Department of Justice and now he has been tracking you…or Jameson…or us…”
“Before we do anything,” I interrupted, mirroring Thomas’s cold posture, “Thomas, you need to stop acting like a dick to Sophia.”
“What did you just say to me?”
“You need to stop acting like a dick to my girlfriend and realize that she is also a victim in this. In more than just this.”
I knew I was making Soph uncomfortable. I could literally feel the tension radiating from her fragile frame, but someone needed to put that cocky bastard in his place. Thomas ran his right hand through his hair, as though conceding to us was utter torture.
“Look,” he groaned, “I’m not the bad guy. I’m a powerful man and you’ve always known that my role is to protect you, Jameson. You’ve known this for years. I’ve cared for you like my own child, let you live in our house, watched you learn and grow. It is entirely inappropriate and ungrateful for you to use such language toward me.”
“If you weren’t such a dick,” I spat, “I wouldn’t have to.”
“Fine,” Thomas snarled, his hands now on his hips while he stared down Soph and me. “I’m sorry for being myself, Sophia, and for not acknowledging the importance you represent to Jameson. This doesn’t mean we’re a family.”
“We weren’t ever one,” I grumbled, not sure if he could even hear the distaste that trickled from my mouth.
I looked at Soph again. Her body was swaying, almost in a trance, while her trembling fingertips danced along her arms as she held herself in one piece.
***
Simon’s house had lost windows on his first floor, despite the barriers he paid to have installed. The entire neighborhood was out observing, taking photographs, and sorting through rubbish.
“Casual,” Thomas repeated under his breath as he lifted a panel away from the window.
I didn’t know how he expected me to act casual when we were essentially breaking into Simon’s home. The room in which we stood was his office. Thomas knew exactly where to begin our search.
“What’d Sophia tell Jules?” Thomas said, not even lifting his head to me while he shuffled through drawers near Simon’s desk.
“Nothing yet. You really think Simon would leave something out in the open if he is so deranged as to track us? He wouldn’t want to get caught. Not against your job title.”
“I’m guessing by the people he could be working with, Simon doesn’t care about my job.” Thomas broke a drawer knob as he forced open a file cabinet. “And he doesn’t care much for his niece either.”
Thomas was holding a file, waving it in the air toward me while his eyes burned with validation.
