Jameson's Salvation

by Riley Edwards

  Before he’d left for the day, I packed him up two of each to take home with him.

  Then with a wave and a smile, which was more than I got from Jameson, he packed up his tools and left.

  Since then, I heard from Nixon. He’d called to tell me they were working their way through Reggie Coleman’s life and they’d hopefully have something soon. I’d also received a call from Holden to tell me the cameras that were installed were working and not to walk around outside naked because the house was being watched. I knew he was kidding but it was a little disconcerting to know I was under surveillance, even if it was for what Nix had called ‘my own protection.’

  And the final call I received was from Jonny Spenser from the sheriff’s department to tell me that Reggie Coleman had filed a complaint that I’d threatened to shoot him. I explained the situation and referred him to Jameson as my witness. Jonny’s only advice was to not shoot Reggie and avoid him. I figured both options were good, however I knew only one would happen. It didn’t matter if I tried to avoid Reggie, he always found a way to harass me.

  The person I had not heard from was Jameson, which made my cellphone ringing and the display announcing he was calling a shock. I was just leaving the organic grocery store and I was somewhat stunned because after five years of stocking my honey, they’d just informed me they were no longer going to carry it. The owner had apologized but wouldn’t budge, even when I’d offered to drop the cost of a case.

  Not in the mood to talk to anyone, I swiped left and declined the call.

  I hadn’t even made it two steps and my phone started ringing again.

  This time with a scowl on my face, ready to tell Jameson I wasn’t in any sort of mood to be lectured or told what I wanted or needed from a man so he could keep his stupid thoughts to himself, I answered.

  Before I could say hello, he was speaking. “Where are you?”

  “Why?”

  “Kennedy, where the hell are you?”

  “You—”

  “Where?” he barked.

  What had crawled up his ass? It was none of his concern where I was and I certainly didn’t appreciate him barking at me.

  “None of your business.”

  “Don’t fuck with me right now. Where?”

  The anger in his voice gave me pause, but then I remembered he was Nix’s friend. He may’ve been mad but he’d never hurt me.

  “In town.”

  “Where in town?”

  “In front of Nature’s Choice. Not that it’s—”

  “Go back into the store and stay there. Do not leave the store until I get there.”

  “What’s wrong with you?”

  “Promise me, Kennedy. Go into the store now.”

  “What’s—”

  “Please trust me.”

  Maybe it was the way he’d asked, his tone of voice pleading. No longer mad but more worried.

  “Okay. I’ll wait for you.”

  “Inside?”

  “Yes, Jameson, I’ll go back inside. Though I’m not all fired up about hanging around here since the owner just told me he was no longer buying my honey. I’ll feel more than a little stupid.”

  “Fuck. I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important.”

  “All right. I’m going in.”

  “See you in a few minutes.”

  I tossed my phone in my purse and wandered around the store, staying as far away from the front counter as I could. I was more than a little upset that Jonas Brown had terminated our agreement, and a little hurt, too. I’d thought we were friends, but I guess not when the man wouldn’t even explain why. I was browsing the essential oil selection, pissed because I needed to stock up on a few bottles but I’d be damned if I purchased them from Jonas.

  Suddenly Jameson was at my side, his eyes angry and head going from side to side scanning the small grocery store.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Come on.”

  He grabbed my hand, laced our fingers together and tugged me out the door, and didn’t stop until we were at his truck, which was illegally double-parked. He opened the passenger door, hoisted me in, jogged around the front, and got in behind the wheel.

  He was pulling away when he told me. “Someone broke into your house.”

  “What?”

  “As soon as Weston saw someone was on your porch, he went straight over…”

  I could no longer hear what Jameson was saying because all that I could concentrate on was that someone was in my house. The word echoed in my head and I couldn’t believe it. No one would break into my house. I didn’t live in a community where people stole from each other.

  “Babe? Are you listening to me?”

  “No.”

  “Hopefully they’re still in there when Weston gets there.”

  “Hopefully? That’s dangerous. He could get hurt.”

  I was looking at Jameson in profile but I saw his jaw clench, obviously displeased.

  “Don’t worry about him, he’s a big boy, he can handle himself.”

  “I’m sure he can. But I don’t want anyone getting hurt on my account.”

  “Anyone, or just him?”

  “What?”

  “Never mind. We’re headed to the office to wait for his call. When we have the all-clear I’ll take you over there. Or if you prefer, Weston can come and get you and take you himself.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Exactly what I said.”

  “Why are we talking about Weston when you just told me my house is being robbed?”

  “We’re not talking about Weston, we’re talking about how you want to handle the situation.”

  “And why would you think I’d want Weston to take me home? Or better question is, why would you care?”

  He didn’t answer. Instead, he parked in front of Fountain Park and cut the engine. He remained silent when he got out and made his way to my side of the truck. And further he didn’t say a word when he helped me down and grabbed my hand again and yanked me to follow.

  I would’ve protested all of this if I wasn’t shocked someone broke into my house, and confused by his odd behavior. He unlocked a door between the distillery that had recently opened and a clothing store that had opened before I was born. We were halfway up the steep staircase when I pulled him to a stop.

  “Am I in danger?”

  “No.”

  “Then what’s with the urgency to get to me?”

  “Didn’t say you weren’t in danger. But you sure as fuck aren’t now.”

  “I have to go to my mom’s.”

  If Jameson thought there’d been the tiniest chance I was in danger, I had to check on my mom. I couldn’t leave her vulnerable.

  “Holden went over there.”

  “What? She can’t know this is happening.”

  “Didn’t say he was gonna waltz up to her front door. He’s just sitting on her house. But I think you need to talk to her so we can put cameras up around her house, too.”

  Holy shit.

  “Do you think it was Reggie who broke in? I mean, the guy’s a prick, but home invasion isn’t his style.”

  “I don’t think anything. Facts are all I care about. The person in your house isn’t Reggie, that’s a fact. The man was slimmer and much younger. But what I can’t rule out is Reggie isn’t behind it. And until we know that, I’m not taking chances. You said your mom can’t get around well, which means if someone breaks into her house, she’s a sitting duck.”

  I felt my body shiver at the thought of someone in my mom’s house.

  “Babe, that’s not gonna happen. Holden is over there now, and if we need to we can place a man outside twenty-four seven. Cameras would also be good.”

  “I can move in with her.”

  “You just got done telling me you didn’t want her to know what was going on.”

  “I won’t tell her.”

  “So you suddenly moving in wouldn’t make her ask questions?”

  “No. I’ll…um
…my water heater. I’ll tell her I’m moving in because my water heater’s still broken.”

  “Jesus.”

  Once again, Jameson started pulling me and I waited for him to unlock another door before he ushered me into an open room with the coolest dinged-up hardwood floors I’d ever seen. The far wall was brick and five arched windows allowed light to spill into the room. There were two wingback chairs sitting in the corner with a table set between. There were also two big bookcases shoved full of books. They looked out of place in what would be considered the reception of an office, but what did I know about what the inside of a private investigation firm looked like.

  It was clean and masculine.

  He pulled me down a hall and I noted a large conference room to my left and another set of stairs at the end of the hall. After we ascended those stairs, he finally spoke.

  “Nixon and McKenna’s office.” He pointed to the first door. “Holden’s. Weston’s. Chasin’s.” He tapped each closed door as we passed and he opened the last door, stepping aside so I could enter, then he shut the door behind us.

  “I take it this is yours.”

  “Don’t be cute.”

  I hated when people called me cute. There was nothing cute about me. And I certainly wasn’t trying be cute now. I was trying to be a smartass because I was annoyed at the way he was dragging me around, but more worried about someone being in my house and Weston rushing over there to try to catch them.

  If he got hurt because of me, I would never forgive myself for pulling them into this mess.

  “Your water heater’s broken?”

  “Yeah.” Why was he looking at me like I had a third eyeball in the center of my forehead? “You were there when it broke, remember?”

  Under normal circumstances I probably would’ve blushed talking about that day, but right then I was too aggravated to care I’d just reminded him he’d seen me near-naked before he’d given me the brush-off.

  “No, Kennedy, I do not remember.” He was stalking toward me and I felt it imperative to step back. Only I couldn’t take more than a few paces before my back was to the wall. Well, fuck me running, I was trapped and Jameson was still advancing.

  He didn’t stop a respectable distance; he invaded my space and rested his hand on the wall next to my head, caging me in. My heart rate spiked and I fought the urge to either punch him or kiss him. I wasn’t sure which one I wanted to do more, but both emotions were swirling around battling for supremacy.

  “What I remember is hearing you scream, taking your stairs two at a time, rushing into your bathroom, being treated to the sexiest fucking view I’d ever seen before you ripped the towel loose and I lost sight of your tits. Then I remember washing the soap out of your eyes and getting to openly study your pretty face without you knowing. Then I remember insanity taking over and the need to see if your skin was as soft as I’d dreamt it would be. So I touched you to find it was softer. Then I distinctly remember feeling how hard your nipple was under that towel and I desperately wanted to take you to your bed and do a variety of filthy things to you. Nowhere in my memory of that day—and, babe, it is seared into my brain—do I remember you telling me your water heater was broken. And my head may’ve been full of images of you taking my dick, but I would’ve remembered that.”

  Did he? Did he seriously just say that? I’d never heard anyone talk like that.

  “Kennedy?”

  I didn’t know how to respond. I knew how my body was responding—the wetness between my legs couldn’t be ignored—but I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to say.

  “You never came back,” I accused.

  “I told you I wouldn’t.”

  “No, you didn’t.”

  I remembered everything he said to me and he never informed me I wouldn’t see or hear from him again.

  “I told you I was protecting you.”

  Now I was super-pissed. I didn’t need protecting, nor did I want it.

  “Protecting me, or protecting yourself?”

  “You don’t know me to say that.”

  “Oh, but you know me well enough to say I need to be protected from you? I’m not the one that says I hate everyone and everything. That’s you.”

  “Someone like you, whose head is full of sunshine and rainbows, couldn’t handle a man like me. So yes, I’m protecting you from me.”

  “You’re a tad arrogant, don’t you think? Who said I wanted to handle you?”

  Jameson’s face lowered and a cruel smile pulled at his lips. “Don’t try and lie to me, Kennedy. We both know I could have your ass up on my desk, your legs spread wide, and you screaming in the next five seconds.”

  The nerve of this asshole.

  “And that makes me what? Easy? A slut? Because I’m a woman, it’s different for me? So what I think you’re hot and I haven’t had sex in a long time and I think you’d be good at it. So how about we say, you’re scared because you know I could sit my ass on your desk, and without much effort get you to fuck me. And maybe you’d like it enough to want to call the next day. Then what? Your ‘I hate everyone’ façade would crack? So again, how about all I want from you is a few good orgasms and for you not to call? Did you think of that, Big Guy, or were you too busy thinking I was some stupid naïve girl who doesn’t know that sex and relationships aren’t the same thing?”

  “I don’t think you’re stupid.”

  “Right. My head is just full of sunshine and rainbows. Which may be the most insulting thing anyone has ever said to me. I do not need anyone to protect me.”

  “You have no idea the type of man I am, what I’ve done, or what I’ve seen. There’s a good reason I am the way I am.”

  “And you don’t know the type of woman I am or what I’ve seen. And there may be a reason but I doubt it’s a good one.”

  “You can’t imagine.”

  “I can’t?” I spit out and lost all control on my mouth. We were nose to nose and I was red-hot pissed at his audacity. “I think I can. I’m the woman who witnessed my father being murdered when I was seventeen.” Jameson’s body jerked back and his hand fell from the wall. “I’m the woman who picked my mother up when she had a nervous breakdown. I’m the woman that worked and supported my mother until she could get back on her feet. I’m the woman who tried to keep my dad’s land so we wouldn’t lose what we had left of him. I’m—”

  “Kennedy, stop.”

  “No. You think you know me. You don’t. You don’t have the first goddamn clue. I’ve worked my ass off for what little I have. I’ve been fucked over. I’ve been cheated on. I’ve lost more than I should’ve before I hit twenty. And even with all of that, I walk around with a smile on my face and still give those around me the benefit of the doubt. Because the alternative is I turn into a cynical, hateful bitch. And I don’t want to be that woman. So I don’t walk around thinking the world is sunshine and roses. I walk around knowing that someone killed my dad in front of me but I am strong enough to pull my shit together and be a good person.”

  “Babe.”

  “I don’t wanna hear it, Jameson. Yes, I thought you were hot. Yes, I would’ve made it easy for you to get me into bed. No, I wouldn’t’ve expected anything after. And if you had been as good as you said you were, I would’ve welcomed you back for seconds and still not expected anything. But you’re a presumptuous asshole. And that’s something I can’t look past.”

  “Can I please explain?”

  “Nope.” I popped my P and headed for the door. “I’ll walk back to my truck and wait for Weston to call me.”

  I threw open the door and calmly left with a lump in my throat and a suspicious hurt in my heart.

  9

  Jameson

  It took a moment for Jameson to come out of his stupor. Kennedy had rightfully laid him out and he was in shock. He would’ve never guessed she’d gone through what she had.

  Not the way she smiled.

  Not the way everything about her was light and airy and projected so much
beauty.

  No, he would’ve never guessed she’d seen such a horrific event.

  By the time his feet came unglued, Kennedy was already down the stairs and quickly making her way across the reception area. He had to double-time it to beat her to the door.

  “Wait,” Jameson said, placing his hand on the knob so she couldn’t open it.

  “Please move.”

  “Not until you hear me out.”

  “I think we’ve both said enough.”

  He was smart enough to know he needed to choose his next words carefully or she’d be gone and he’d never have the chance to make things right.

  “I’m sorry I was an asshole.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Don’t do that, Kennedy.”

  “Do what? Thank you for your apology? Saying you’re sorry doesn’t change anything.”

  “You’re right, it doesn’t. I’d like to explain.”

  “Why? It doesn’t matter. Nothing changes. It’s not like we were even friends.”

  “You’re my friend.”

  The admission felt strange. Jameson didn’t have many friends and that was by design. Kennedy was right, his hateful attitude prevented most people from wanting to get to close to him. She’d been right about a lot of things.

  “Right. So we have one drink together, and you don’t call me for a week. And when you do, it’s only because my house is getting broken into.”

  If there was ever a time to practice what he preached about honesty, this was it. But, damn it was hard.

  “I didn’t call you because your house was getting broken into. I called you because even though I didn’t see your car there, I didn’t know if you were inside. And when you didn’t pick up your phone my heart felt like it was going to explode. I was an asshole when I finally got you on the phone, because all I could imagine was you in your house alone and some man breaking in. I didn’t handle it well, because I’d never felt panic like that before. And considering I spent years in the desert killing bad guys, that’s saying something.