by Ivy Layne
There weren't many, all of them showing my mother asleep in her bed, the quilt my grandmother had sewn for her tucked securely around her thin frame. She was too young to be so ill, and in a picture like this, she didn't look sick. She just looked like she was sleeping. Tears threatened, and I bit my lip hard to push them back. I was not going to start crying in this office filled with testosterone. I would probably have an argument on my hands if I wanted to go see my mother, and the last thing I needed was for these guys to think I was too emotional to handle it.
I knew well enough that while none of them were overtly sexist, their base instinct when it came to females was to sleep with them or protect them. Crying in front of them would not help my case. I blinked away the moisture in my eyes and re-settled the pictures in the file, closing it carefully and laying my hands on top. I wouldn't dwell on the photographs, and I wouldn't cry, but I couldn't bear to give them back. Not yet.
Jacob took the seat beside me, Griffen leaned against the wall beside the desk, and Evers took a position half-sitting on the corner of Cooper's desk. Before the meeting could start, I said, "I'd like to see my mother. I know it's dangerous, but it's been three weeks, and I appreciate Griffen visiting her, but—"
"It's not the same," Cooper finished for me.
"No, it's not. I know it's dangerous—"
"Is there a way we can get her in and minimize the risk?" Jacob asked. Cooper stared at us both for a long moment before answering.
"The short answer is yes. Now that he knows where she is, it's not as much of a risk if she gets tailed back to Winters House, but we shouldn't make a habit of exposing her." Before I could get annoyed that Cooper was discussing me in the third person when I was sitting right in front of him, he looked at me and said, "Abigail, I suggested Jacob include you in this meeting because whatever we decide will affect you more than anyone else."
"What do you mean?" I asked. What were they deciding? Cooper sat back and crossed his arms over his chest.
"We're at a stalemate with Big John right now," he said. "His talks with the Raptors have stalled, but they're not dead. That keeps you in play. We don't know definitely, but our feeling is that the second you pop back up on the game board, everything will shift back into high gear."
"That keeps her trapped indefinitely," Jacob commented. Cooper nodded.
"It does. Which means either you ride it out and wait, hoping the situation resolves itself, or we make some moves to push this to a head. Either way, if you want to see your mother, soon is as good a time as any. If we decide to escalate things, we won't want you out on the street."
"What does that mean?" I asked "Escalate things?"
Cooper looked up at Evers, who explained. "Big John heads his own organization, but he doesn't handle distribution or sales of product out of this region. In that sense, he's a cog in a machine, albeit a dangerous and powerful cog. Making a visible member of Atlanta society a key point in a distribution deal with a biker gang is not good business. You are not some homeless junkie or hooker. You're a Wainwright. Your grandmother was president of the fucking garden society for a decade. Big John's bosses may not know who your people are, but if someone tells them what he plans to do with you, they will not be happy."
My eyes widened as the implications of Evers's words sank in. I'd been subject to Big John's will for so many years that I'd forgotten where I belonged in the bigger picture. Evers was right. Big John couldn't just make me disappear and hope no one would notice. In the short term, my prominence wouldn't help me. If Big John got his hands on me, by the time law enforcement came rushing in to save the day, I would have already disappeared. But I could see how that kind of attention would be bad for the entire organization.
"Especially now that Jacob has claimed you," Griffen cut in. "These guys won't be happy to hear that Big John wants to kidnap the woman of a guy who golfs with the governor."
Jacob golfed with the governor? I looked at him, and he shook his head. "I try to avoid golf when I can, sweetheart. It's not my game."
"But you've golfed with the governor?" I asked, curious.
"We usually settle for lunch at the club," he said. That was enough to make their point.
"What happens if you escalate the situation? What does that mean, exactly?" I asked.
"It means," Cooper said, picking up a pen from his desk and flipping it over his fingers, "that I get a message to the people who pull Big John's strings and let them know he's showing signs of instability that will draw the wrong kinds of attention. It may come to nothing, and it may make things worse."
"But you think it will get him off my back," I said. Cooper leveled his eyes on me and said nothing for a long moment.
"I think it's a risk. A rational man will respond to threats from his superiors by toeing the line. If Big John Jordan were rational, he never would've dragged you into a negotiation with the Raptors in the first place. If he were rational, he wouldn't have had your husband assassinated. These are not the actions of a rational person. That makes him dangerous."
I flinched when he stated so boldly that John had been murdered by his own father. I thought I'd made my peace with that, but I guess I was wrong. And Cooper was right. Big John was not rational. He was unpredictable. But what were my options? Let things continue as they were and remain a prisoner in Jacob's penthouse? For so many reasons, that situation was temporary. One way or another, the threat of Big John had to be resolved.
"It's your call, sweetheart," Jacob said, taking my hand in his and intertwining his fingers with mine.
"What do you think I should do?" I asked.
"Don't ask me," he warned. "I'm not rational either."
Under his breath, Evers mumbled, "No kidding," loud enough for all of us to hear. Jacob sent him a livid glare before turning his eyes back to me.
"I can't stand the thought of you in danger," he said. "If it were up to me, I'd pack you up and ship you off to a hunting cabin in Montana until Big John was permanently out of the picture."
I couldn't help smiling at the thought of Jacob trying to dump me in a rustic cabin in the middle of nowhere. I was not the outdoorsy type. "No," I said. "That's not going to happen, Jacob."
He returned my smile and shrugged. "I know. I haven't done it, have I? I'm just saying, I'm not going to stand by and let you put your life in danger, but you have the right to make your own decisions. If you want to stay holed up at my place and see how this plays out, then let's do that. I'm in no hurry to shake things up, especially if it means putting you in more danger. But it's your call, Abigail."
I'm in no hurry to shake things up, he'd said. And that was our problem in a nutshell. I was trapped by circumstances and the threat of Big John. Meanwhile, Jacob had me exactly where he wanted me, tucked away and convenient. Even better for him, I didn't really want to leave. I could easily see our circumstances stretching out for months. Or longer. With me falling deeper and deeper in love with a man for whom I was little more than convenient sex and disposable companionship. I didn't know what would be left of me by the end. There wasn't really a decision to make.
"Escalate things," I said. "I don't think we have a choice."
Cooper nodded once, his face expressionless. Griffen crossed his arms over his chest and looked at the floor, but I couldn't read whether he thought my decision was a good one or not. Evers stood, shoved his hands in his pockets, and shook his head.
"What?" I asked. "You think I should just keep hiding?"
Evers scowled at Jacob, then turned a gentle smile my way. "No, Abigail. I think all of your choices suck. I think this is a terrible situation, and I wish I had a better, safer answer for you. Jacob's going to beat the shit out of me for asking, but I don't care. Do you want to stay with him? I would feel better about this if you could look me in the eyes and tell me—all other concerns aside, if you knew your mother and Big John were not an issue—would you want to stay with Jacob?"
I realized, with a flood of embarrassment, that Eve
rs knew exactly what my arrangement with Jacob was, and he did not approve. My face burned, the flush of humiliation spreading down my neck over my collarbones until I was pretty sure every inch of my skin was blushing. It was bad enough that Rachel and the doctor knew. Bad enough that there was already gossip that connected me to Jacob only months after John's death. But to have Evers Sinclair stare at me with pity and ask me if I was okay with being Jacob's whore—that was too much.
"Evers," Jacob growled, "I swear to fucking God, I will tear you to pieces if you say another word to her."
Evers took a step back, then held his ground. His voice low and unbearably gentle, he said to me, "Abigail, honey, I'm not trying to embarrass you. I just want you to know you have options if you want them. We have safe houses. We can get you out of Atlanta until this is resolved."
"Am I safe with Jacob?" I asked. Jacob's fingers, still intertwined with mine, tightened painfully. I shied away from the thought that I had to consider Evers's offer. Even though I was sure he wouldn't bill me for a stay in their safe house, there was still the issue of my mother's care to consider. I've accepted Jacob's deal partly for protection, but mostly for her. If I ran out on Jacob, who would take care of my mother? It was one thing to accept the Sinclairs’ protection without paying, but her fees were too much to lump in with a favor for a friend, and a distant friend at that.
Be honest, I told myself. This isn't entirely about the money. The truth was, I didn't want to leave Jacob. Not yet.
"Am I safe with Jacob?" I prompted.
"Yes," Evers admitted after Cooper rumbled his name under his breath. "We've got Winters House locked up tight. There's going to be a risk getting you in and out of Shaded Glenn, but that would be true no matter where you were staying. You're as safe as we can make you with Jacob."
"If I left, would Jacob be any safer from Big John?" I asked. Jacob let go of my hand and turned to face me.
"Abigail, that's not an issue."
"It is an issue," I insisted. "When I came to you, I was scared, and I wasn't thinking clearly about what could happen to you if you took me in. I was selfish, worried about myself. But he shot at you. You could've been killed, and it would've been my fault. Don't ask me to forget about that."
"I don't care," he said, his voice rising to a shout.
"Well, I do," I shouted back. Taking a deep breath and searching for calm, I looked at the three other men in the room and repeated my question. "If I leave, will Jacob be safer?"
I expected Evers or Cooper to answer, but Griffen cut in. "Possibly, marginally safer. But again, Big John isn't being rational. He's pissed, and Jacob hid you from him. If this makes a difference in your decision, if you leave him, I wouldn't recommend making any changes to his security."
"So you're saying he would still need the same level of protection whether I'm with him or not?" I asked. Griffen gave a single nod.
"That would be my assessment, yes." He shifted his lazy stance leaning against the door and stepped forward to stand beside Evers. "And just so you know, the nurses at Shaded Glenn have a lot to say about you. And the woman they talk about? She didn't have any good choices in this situation. You did the best you could. Jacob knew exactly the threat involved when he took you in, and you were looking out for your family. Don't ever feel badly about that."
I nodded and looked down at my lap. They were all watching me, waiting for my decision. Jacob leaned forward, taking both of my hands in his, and squeezed my fingers until I raised my eyes. His voice was soft, free of anger, when he said, "Stay with me, Abigail. Please."
I searched his eyes, so familiar and yet often impenetrable to me. Maybe, if I had more self-respect, I would have taken Evers up on his offer. Jacob had a reputation for being tough in business, but he wouldn't throw my mother out on the street. He might present me with a bill when this was over, but he wouldn't have her thrown out of Shaded Glenn. If I was going to stay with him instead of going into a safe house, I should at least be honest with myself and stop hiding behind my mother as an excuse. This may have started because I was trying to take care of her, but it wasn't about her anymore, and I was lying to myself if I thought I was sitting here trying to make a decision. There was no decision to make.
"I won't leave," I said, wishing with all my heart that his request had included more. Stay with me because I love you. Stay with me because I can't live without you. I was terribly afraid that what he really meant was stay with me because I like fucking you and you're a pretty good cook.
The truth was, I wasn't staying because he'd asked me to. I was staying because I was in love with him and I wasn't ready to give him up.
I looked across the desk to Cooper and said, "When can I see my mother?"
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
JACOB
* * *
Getting Abigail out of Winters House and into Shaded Glenn turned out to be less complicated than I thought. Griffen picked us up in a generic white van with a cleaning service logo on the side. He drove through the city long enough for the team following us to determine we'd lost any tails before picking up his speed and driving to Shaded Glenn.
A combination of assisted living and twenty-four-hour nursing care, Shaded Glenn was located on several attractively landscaped acres north of the city. The buildings were laid out in a traditional Georgian-style red brick, with black shutters and white columns. At night, even the back entrances were well-lit. We passed the wide gated drive of the main entry and turned the corner to the narrower but still gated service entry. Cooper had sent two men ahead to check over the facility and supervise our entry and exit. As far as any threat from Big John went, the whole operation was clean and simple.
I wish the rest of it had been as easy. Abigail was under too much strain, tension coiled inside her like an overwound watch. The confrontation in Cooper's office earlier in the afternoon hadn't helped. I was still ready to fucking kill Evers. It wasn't just that he'd tried to take her away from me. But Evers didn't even want her, not the way I did. The way he'd thrown our arrangement in her face, seeing how humiliated she'd been—just thinking about it made me sick with anger.
And whose fault is that? My conscience prodded. Evers’s, or yours? I was really starting to hate my conscience. I refused to regret my arrangement with Abigail. Offering safety for Abigail and her mother in exchange for Abigail in my bed was not my most noble moment.
Neither of us had been thinking clearly when she'd shown up in my office. She'd been scared, and I'd been greedy. I could admit that, but it wasn't any of Evers's fucking business, and if he cared so much about Abigail, he wouldn't have made her feel like shit in front of everyone.
Blaming Evers was so much simpler than dwelling on what I could've done to make the situation easier. I was taking care of Abigail, wasn't I? I'd given her everything she needed. The best sex of her life—the way she lit up for me, I knew she'd never had better—free reign to buy whatever she wanted, I was taking care of her mother, I'd given her a spectacular place to live, and I was even helping her figure out college. What fucking more did everybody want from me?
Before my conscience could pipe up again, I dragged my attention back to the situation at hand. It was no wonder my mind had wandered. As nice as Shaded Glenn was, with its hyper-attentive staff and beautiful facilities, this was not a happy place. The people here were not going home. And in Mrs. Wainwright's building, most of them were nearing the end.
I hadn't known Anne Louise Wainwright before she fell ill. Seeing her lying in the bed, eyes closed, a brightly patterned but clearly worn hand-stitched quilt tucked carefully around her frail body, it was hard to accept that she was in her late fifties. She looked at least a decade older, but still beautiful, with the same thick, dark hair as Abigail, the same cheekbones, and the same nose.
I was looking at a vision of Abigail twenty-five years from now, and she would still be just as beautiful as she was today. At the same time, the most basic part of my soul revolted at the site of Mrs. Wainw
right in that bed, looking so much like her daughter, the beep of machines a soundtrack to her slowly declining health. I never wanted to see Abigail like this. Never. I was watching the end of a life, come far too soon, and seeing it happen to the image of Abigail made me sick.
I led Abigail to a chair that had been placed beside her mother's bed. She sat, her eyes glued to her mother, and took her mother's hand, silent tears streaming down her face. I stood behind her, rubbing the back of her neck, at a loss for what else I could do. I would fix anything for Abigail. Right any wrong. Save her from any threat. It was killing me that the only thing I could do now was write a check. The most wrenching pain she'd ever experienced, the loss she feared more than any other, and I was helpless before it.
Eventually, I stepped out in the hall to check in with Cooper and make some calls. We weren't going anywhere. Now that Abigail was with her mother after so long apart, I couldn't drag her home until she was ready. It was a long night. We stayed until Abigail started nodding off. When she was asleep, I gently untangled her fingers from her mother's and lifted her from the chair. Her eyes fluttered open. I said, "It's time to go home, sweetheart. Okay?"
She registered what I was saying and her eyes filled with tears, but she nodded her head against my chest and whispered back, "Okay." She took a breath to steady herself. "I can walk. Put me down, please."
I didn't want to let her go, but I did as she asked. My arm around her shoulders, I held her tight to my side as we waited just inside the exit door for the all clear to leave. The same white van we'd arrived in was waiting. Pearly dawn light gave the small parking lot an otherworldly look. In the still, quiet air, I wanted to hold my breath. The only sounds were the scuffle of our feet on the pavement and the low murmur of the Sinclair Security team talking through almost invisible microphones. I was braced for an attack that never came. I helped Abigail into the van and climbed in beside her. The driver and another guard jumped in, waited until we finished fastening our seat belts, and took off.
