Everything was working out perfectly. This weekend was turning out to be one of the best of his entire life. He felt so comfortable with Nick. Spending time with her was like going home, to a real home. To that place of warmth and love and happiness neither one of them had ever known.
And the sex was . . . indescribable. He hadn’t known he could come so hard, so often. She made him wild with a single look, the slightest touch. He could fuck her every day for the rest of his life and never get tired of feeling her body pressed against him. She was everything he’d ever dreamed of and everything he’d ever need.
He knew he was crazy, but he was already thinking rings, wondering how long he’d have to wait before it would be at least somewhat rational to pop the question.
Jackson’s phone buzzed in his pocket, interrupting his stream of insanity. It was Christian calling him back. It hadn’t been more than fifteen minutes since they hung up the first time, but then, his partner did have some excellent sources. Christian’s ability to get the dirt on just about anyone had often made Jackson a little suspicious.
Despite the fact that he used to be a police officer before he quit to do the tattoo artist thing full-time, sometimes it seemed a little too easy for Chris to find out the intensely personal details of other people’s lives. Even police officers had to work to get access to things like juvenile arrests and medical records. Especially medical records.
But when Christian had discovered a girl Jackson was casually dating was HIV-positive and hiding it from her lovers in order to convince them to indulge her passion for blood play without reluctance, Jackson hadn’t asked questions. He hadn’t cared how Christian had gotten the information, he’d just been glad to learn the truth before he’d put himself at risk.
The same was true now. Before he got in any deeper with Nicky, he had to know what she was hiding and whether he could help her out of whatever trouble she was in. If not, he didn’t know if he could handle getting any closer to the woman upstairs. If she’d gotten herself into a bad situation beyond his control to remedy, it would drive him insane to see her suffer and not be able to keep her safe.
“What did you find out?” Jackson asked, keeping his voice low in case Nicky made a sudden appearance. Surely she was nearly ready by now and could be headed down the stairs any second.
“Nothing much. It’s like the woman just dropped out of her life two years ago,” Christian said. “I found a couple of pictures from her wedding to this Derrick Sack of Potatoes guy, but—”
“What?”
“Sakapatatis. No wonder Nicky didn’t change her name. That has to be one of the least sexy last names I’ve ever heard. It would have been lingerie model suicide.”
Jackson sighed and rolled his eyes. “So that’s it? Her ex has a lame last name? That’s all you found out?”
“No, that’s not all I found out. This is me you’re talking to.” Christian sniffed, clearly offended. “She has a clean criminal record. Never even had an unpaid parking ticket, which probably wasn’t too hard considering she didn’t have a driver’s license until about two months ago.”
“No driver’s license?”
“Not in California, and the Nevada license expired when she turned twenty.”
“That’s strange.” Nicky had always loved to drive his car and had been at the DMV the morning of her sixteenth birthday ready to test for her license.
“And it gets stranger, my friend. According to her and the Sack of Potatoes guy’s tax records, she reported no income from the time she quit modeling until she started working at the bar. Absolutely nothing.”
“Maybe he didn’t want her to work. He sounds like the type from what I’ve heard.”
“Maybe. But he didn’t want her to spend, either. She didn’t have her name on any of his four bank accounts or have an account of her own. Hell, she didn’t even have a credit card. There’s no credit history on the chick for the past two years.”
Jackson grunted, putting the pieces together before Christian spoke again.
“Which probably means she’s flat-ass broke unless she’s been stashing cash under her mattress or something.”
“What about the money she earned modeling?” Jackson asked. “What happened to that? She must have had an account before she was married.”
“She did, but she closed it out before she hooked up with her husband. She’s broke, man.”
“So what?” Jackson snapped.
“So nothing. Don’t shoot the messenger. It’s no big deal, as long as you don’t mind being her sugar daddy. But . . . there is something else.”
“And what is that?” Jackson asked, trying to keep the frustration out of his voice as he turned off the burner on the stove and poured the tortellini into the colander to drain. “I don’t have a lot of time right now, Christian.”
“Fine, I’ll cut right to it. She’s got a kid.”
“What?” Jackson dropped the pot into the sink with a clatter, feeling his stomach bottom out. If Nicky had a kid, who was taking care of him or her while she was up here?
“A baby girl about eleven months old, Abigail Diana Sakapatatis. From what I can find, it seems like the kid is still living with the husband.”
“But that guy’s bad news. He was abusive to Nicky—I’m almost certain of it.”
“Yeah, well, maybe she had to get out of the situation, but couldn’t take the kid with her. If she has no money, she wouldn’t be very well equipped to—”
“No way. She would never leave her child with someone who would hurt her. She wouldn’t do that, Christian.”
“Listen, don’t freak out on me. I’m just telling you what I learned.” Christian sighed, and Jackson could tell he wasn’t going to like the next words out of his partner’s mouth. “And I’ll tell you something else: I think you’re crazy. You don’t know this woman anymore. She is not the same sweet little girl you fell in love with.”
“You don’t know anything about her.”
“No, but I do know a thing or two about you. And I know that, beneath that big bad act, you’re a softie, man. You’re a prime target for a woman like her.”
“Choose your next words very carefully,” Jackson said, hoping Christian heard the warning in his tone.
“I’m not saying anything bad about your precious Nicky. I’m just saying she’s a woman who is obviously in some sort of trouble. Financial trouble for certain and probably more if this soon-to-be ex is as bad as you think.”
“Again I have to say, so what?”
“So help her if you want to help her, but don’t let yourself think you two are headed for happily ever after or something. She’s obviously not in a place where she can be loving anyone.”
“I’m going to hang up now.” Jackson could barely force the words out, his jaw was clenched so tightly. Christian didn’t know what the hell he was talking about. He’d never dated the same woman for more than a month at a time. What the fuck did he know about love?
“Fine, but when she uses you and then leaves your ass a second time, don’t say I didn’t warn—”
Jackson snapped the phone closed and threw it on the counter. He shouldn’t have brought the damned thing. He hadn’t wanted any distractions when he came to the mountains. That’s why he hadn’t had a landline installed in the first place.
The last thing he’d needed was a dose of reality via Christian, the biggest cynic in his personal acquaintance. Jackson was the one whose mother had dumped him on his dad’s porch before he could even walk and never come back. Then his dad, the only adult who had ever made Jackson feel safe and cared for, had kicked it when he was ten and he’d been shuffled from shitty foster home to shit-tier foster home until he was eighteen. Still, Christian was the one who acted like life had betrayed him. Jackson had never met the other man’s family, but they must be some pieces of work to make Christian distrust people even more than he did.
“Nicky? Are you about ready?” Jackson shouted to be heard upstairs as he fished th
e wok out from the cupboard and dumped the tortellini and vegetables inside. “We’re about two minutes from estimated pasta arrival.”
Silence. Not so much as the sound of footsteps crossing the floor or water running in the bathroom. “Nick?” he called again.
Still nothing, the kind of nothing that made the hairs stand up on his arms and his throat grow tight. Jackson set the wok on the stove, but didn’t turn on the burner. Instead, he headed for the stairs, wiping his damp hands on his jeans as he went.
There had to be a logical explanation for this. Maybe she had found the iPod in his suitcase and was checking out his favorite playlists. Nicky had always loved to play her music loud and he doubted becoming a mom had changed that.
A mom. Nicky was a mom.
A mom who had left her little girl with a potentially dangerous man. The knowledge all but killed the spark of pleasure the idea of meeting Nicky’s daughter had inspired.
What could have driven her to make that kind of decision? Was she so traumatized by her marriage she wanted out any way she could, even if that meant leaving her daughter behind? Maybe she’d wanted to take her baby with her, but hadn’t had the money, as Christian had suggested.
Or maybe she just hadn’t taken to being a parent the way he’d always thought she would.
They’d never really talked about kids in-depth, but even as a teenager Nicky had seemed like the kind of woman who would grow up to be a great mother. The way she’d taken care of the younger foster kids in Phil’s house had always impressed him. She hadn’t just made sure they had something to eat or helped them with homework, she’d done her best to make them smile, to lessen the negative impact of living with Phil in her own small way.
Could that have really changed so much in eight years?
Jackson knew he was going to find out. She’d probably be pissed that he snooped around behind her back, but—
“Nicky?” He said her name one last time, even though the open window next to Nicky’s bed assured him she wouldn’t be answering his call. She was gone.
Chapter Twelve
Nicky burst out of the woods just as the sun was setting, panting from her run down the side of the mountain. She sported several scratches on her face and her jeans were soaked through to the knee from where she’d waded through the snowdrifts, but at least she’d made it to the edge of the little town whose lights she’d glimpsed the night before.
She hadn’t dared take the road. It would have taken too much time and Jackson would have found her for sure. Even now, he might still find a way to stop her. He had to have realized she was gone and put two and two together to guess where she’d run. The town at the bottom of the ravine was the only sign of civilization nearby, and the only place where she might find someone to help her.
“Or a bus station if I’m lucky.” Nicky took a deep breath and exhaled a puff of white. The temperature was falling fast.
Even warm from her run and wearing a heavy sweater, she was starting to feel the cold. Luckily the boots Jackson had brought for her seemed to be waterproof, but her jeans were not. The damp fabric felt like it was freezing to the skin beneath. She had to find somewhere to get inside and get warmed up before she risked frostbite—hopefully that bus station she was dreaming about. A bus ticket and a snug little waiting room that served hot chocolate would be heaven to her right now.
Or maybe something a little stronger than hot chocolate. An Irish coffee sounded pretty good. Anything to help numb the pain and anxiety flooding her system. She’d only spent a day with Jackson, but leaving him was as horrible as it had been the first time. Far worse than leaving the man she’d been married to for three years.
But she couldn’t think about that now. She had to focus on getting the hell out of Dodge.
Nicky set a swift pace down the street toward a line of wooden buildings resembling the main drag of an Old West town. She was still too far away to know for certain, but the businesses appeared to be mostly souvenir shops and the occasional outdoors supply store. There were only a few cars parked alongside the street, but hopefully that meant there were at least a few townspeople who hadn’t headed home for dinner yet. Surely one of them would be willing to give her a ride to the bus station. Or at least let her use their phone to call someone to help her if there wasn’t a station in town.
Her cell had died sometime between leaving L.A. and arriving in the mountains. She must have forgotten to charge it before she went to work Friday night. Stupid and careless, but then she hadn’t anticipated being gone from home more than a few hours. She certainly hadn’t imagined being kidnapped and ending up in a sleepy mountain town desperate to make contact with one of her few friends in Los Angeles.
They hadn’t known each other long, but she was guessing Cassandra wouldn’t mind driving a few hours to pick her up as long as Nicky paid for her gas and spilled all the sordid details of how she’d ended up stranded in the middle of nowhere. Cassie lived for gossip, whether it be the Hollywood variety sold at grocery store checkouts or the intimate details of her friends’ and coworkers’ lives. She’d break every speed limit between L.A. and wherever the hell Nicky was calling from as soon as she heard the words “kidnapped” and “ex-lover” in the same sentence.
The idea of the ride home with Cassie, however, made Nicky pray there was a bus station close by. She didn’t want to talk about what had happened with her and Jackson. Not now, maybe not ever.
She broke into a jog once more, swiftly closing the distance between herself and the only business still open this late in the winter months. Skiing was a big tourist draw in these parts, but a little town at the bottom of a ravine too steep for the skiing and snowboarding enthusiasts to maneuver probably didn’t see much action once the sun went down. The tourists all flocked back to Arrowhead or Big Bear to eat and drink away the chill from a day spent on the slopes.
But even a tiny town like this one had the requisite mom-and-pop diner, serving eggs and pancakes in the morning and other down-home favorites the rest of the time. The blackboard nailed to the outside of the diner proclaimed today’s special to be chicken fried steak with potatoes and gravy and green beans.
Nicky’s stomach rumbled, despite the fact that chicken fried steak would no doubt be a pathetic meal compared to the pasta Jackson had been preparing for them up in his cabin. He’d told her he’d brought a bottle of Merlot to go along with the food and cheesecake for dessert, and sounded so excited to share both with her. To share the evening with her, period.
But how could he have really felt that way if he’d been so desperate to invade her privacy the second her back was turned? And not just invade her privacy himself, but ask some friend of his to do it, to delve into her past and find out if she was a criminal, for god’s sake.
It made her wonder what he’d really thought of her all those years ago. If he’d known her as well as she’d thought, surely he would have realized she would never do anything illegal. Scandalous and wild, yes. Reckless and stupid, probably. But not illegal. That wasn’t her. Never had been, never would be.
The sound of a car pulling down the road behind her made Nicky press closer to the wall of the diner, hoping the awning shading the entrance would help conceal her. With her blond hair and light blue sweater, it wouldn’t be that difficult to spot her from the road. And if Jackson saw her, she was as good as caught. There was no one on the street to hear her scream for help, even if she managed to call out before he hustled her into the Expedition.
A quick peek over her shoulder revealed a beat-up Jeep trundling down the road, not Jackson’s monster truck. She was safe for now, but the clock was ticking. Jackson was coming for her, she could feel it in her gut. Hell, if she didn’t know better, she’d think he was already inches away, ready to throw her over his shoulder and tote her back to his lair.
He wouldn’t let her get away with leaving, she knew that much for certain. He’d feel betrayed that she’d run, as betrayed as she’d felt when she’d discovered how
very little he trusted the woman he professed to love.
A bell rang above the door as Nicky pushed inside the diner. The smells of frying meat and homemade bread engulfed her, making her stomach rumble again. It had been quite a while since brunch and she and Jackson had certainly done their part to build up a hearty appetite.
Nicky’s muscles ached from their marathon lovemaking as much as her dash down the mountainside. But those aches would fade in a few days’ time. No telling how long the aching in her chest would last. Her stupid heart had already grown ridiculously attached to Jackson again. So attached it raced with excitement, not fear, when a large hand suddenly closed around her wrist.
“I figured you’d come here. Only place in town open after five during the winter.” Jackson’s eyes were dark and expressionless, but Nicky could feel the anger in the iron grip of his fingers.
“Let go of me. I’m going home,” Nicky said, keeping her voice low so as not to attract any more attention from the few diners scattered throughout the small restaurant. People were already staring, no need to make a scene. Yet.
If Jackson didn’t take no for an answer, however . . .
“You’re going back to the cabin with me. I’m going to do what we came here to do. Right now. Afterward, I’ll drive you home myself. Tonight if you want.”
“What I want is for you to let me go.” Nicky tried to jerk away, but he held her tight. “I’m not going back to the cabin, and I’m not letting you touch me again. With a tattoo needle or anything else.”
“You’ll do what I ask you to do for the next few hours.”
“I’m not playing games anymore, Jackson,” Nicky said, hoping he read the truth in her eyes. “I will not obey you, I will not submit to you, and I’m not going anywhere with you willingly. You’ll have to use force.”
“I don’t have a problem with that.” His eyes glittered with anger and something else, something that looked a lot like . . . hurt.
“Well, I do. Try to take me out of here and I will scream for help,” she whispered. “I’ll tell these people to call the police and you’ll end up spending the night in jail.”
Skin Deep Page 13
