Reaching For Emeralds

by Lacee Hightower

  It hurt … way too much. I couldn’t do this. “Please, Jackson.” I wanted to stand up. Ask him to stop. Except I knew better.

  “Who are you, Layla? What do you want from me?” Another red-hot blow to the sensitive skin underneath my ass check hurt even more than the others. Tears flew from my eyes, my thigh and ass burning a hot fire. I knew I could tell him to stop and he would, but a small, very distant part of me shot a sensual dose of adrenaline through my spine, making everything between my thighs feel warm and achy. He brushed a finger underneath my eyes, then pushed my hair away from my neck.

  “I’m waiting, princess.”

  “Honestly, I don’t even know what the truth is anymore. Nothing makes sense now.” My heart was racing so rapidly I knew he could feel it through my skin. “You know why I entered the auction, Jackson,” I whispered. My eyes dropped back toward the ground, giving him every reason to think I was lying. Or submitting.

  Instantly, he lifted my face again, dropping the crop and reaching for his phone with one hand and looking at something on the screen.

  “Very interesting reading,” he said with deep sarcasm.

  “How is our kinky DA today? Have you used all that southern girl charm to make him love you? Stay strong, Layla. You’re well on your way to getting your revenge on the beautiful bastard.”

  I dropped my head in shame. “Would you like to hear more, Layla?” I shook my head. I didn’t need more. “Just a little more, then we’ll move on. This was my favorite part. Oh … other than the beautiful bastard comment of course.”

  “Give me another week. I’ll have him eating out of my hand. P.S. The sex was amazing. And he’s actually nice on occasion.”

  “Computer security lesson number one, Layla. Never, I stress never, leave email open and unattended when you have something to hide. Someone could turn up unexpectedly and see something that wasn’t intended for their eyes. Something that even the most southern of charm can’t fix.”

  I shook my head, shivering at the dark look in this man’s eyes that at one time I’d hated more than anything. “It was just two silly friends joshing. Nothing more.”

  Jackson’s voice sharpened. “Cut the goddamn bullshit, Layla.”

  Everything was falling apart. I knew from day one I could never outsmart Jackson. Fantasies. Daydreams. That’s all this was and had ever been. Jackson bought women. Used them. He didn’t fall in love.

  He settled his phone back onto the table as I burst into another round of tears, rising from the floor and searching his angry eyes. This arrangement was clearly over. How had I been such a fool to leave my laptop open?

  Why had I been so stupid to think any of this could be a success?

  “You took everything from me that mattered,” I whimpered. “My dad worked so hard for what he had. He was a good man, Jackson. Yet, you sent him to his grave, leaving me alone, with no one.” I swiped angrily at the tears dripping from my nose. “We had it all planned. My bakery. The dream since I was ten. But you took it all. You never once looked back. Not even when my dad was clearly under suicide watch. You wouldn’t even fucking give me his letter of confession,” I screamed, hiccupping through tears.

  “I offered my body in hopes that you’d bid on me so I could make you love me. More than anything, I wanted to break your heart the same way you did my father’s.” I nervously picked at the side of my fingernail and reached for a throw blanket draped over the back of the chaise lounge to hide my nakedness.

  “But you made it impossible to hate you, Jackson. And now all I’ve been doing is keeping everything hidden. Ignoring my true feelings. Trying to make some kind of sense out of it. I haven’t even been honest with Joslyn. I’m ashamed to tell her that I have real feelings for the man who trashed my life. A man she swore was cold-hearted and could never care for someone like me.”

  His head was between his palms resting on top of his thighs as I fought dropping back to my knees and begging for his forgiveness.

  “Motherfucking hell,” he muttered, his fingertips digging into his forehead. “You thought you could make me fall in love with you? So you could leave me once you accomplished something that’s never been done?”

  “Jackson.” I placed my hand on his tensing thigh, brushing my fingers up and down his knee. “No matter what I’ve done, I care for you. I never intended on it, but I do. I want to be here. God help me, the only game I’ve been playing is with myself.” I lifted my eyes toward the ceiling, willing away the emotion biting at my heart. When I looked back down, he was staring icily at me, his jaw hardened. My pulse roared as I silently prayed for a second chance.

  “That’s all quite some plan, Layla.”

  “Please give me another chance. I don’t think I can be okay without you, Jackson.” My eyes were stinging as I grasped for excuses. I wanted him to touch me so badly. “Everything about you makes me feel hopeful. When you touch me, or even look at me, my body turns into a wet, needy mess.”

  “No,” he whispered, the severity in his gaze relentless. “No second chances, Layla. There are too many reasons this won’t work. I need for you to go.”

  “Is that really what you want, Jackson?”

  He nodded. “Yes, Layla. It is.”

  “Okay, then. I’ll gather my things tonight.”

  With his head still hanging between his hands, it was the last thing I saw as I walked out the door, listening to a loud crash against the wall seconds later. Still wrapped in the dark throw blanket, crying so hard I could barely see, I retired to my bedroom for what would be the last night.

  Thirty minutes after feeling excited and optimistic, jumping up and down like an excited teenager over something as petty as a few bags of flour, Jackson and I were both right back to where we’d been in the beginning. Time had turned back yet again, leaving me doubtful and lonely, suspecting that things between us were simply not meant to be.

  I grabbed at the plush bedding. I couldn’t get underneath fast enough, this feeling of hopelessness seemingly worse than losing my own father.

  How fucked-up was that?

  Where had my logic gone?

  My strength?

  Maybe something was wrong with me. Everything I’d done since I laid eyes on Jackson was pathetic and unworthy. The comforter pulled up tight around my shoulders, I raised my knees up into the fetal position. I was so tired. Mentally and physically drained. Everything I was doing was shameful. My dad wasn’t coming back.

  And now … neither was Jackson.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Jackson

  Twenty-four hours without her left me feeling like hell. Forty-eight passed and I felt like I was dying. Today, it felt like I was already dead.

  The dinging of my cell phone was the last thing I wanted to hear right now. Peace and fucking quiet—what did a man have to do to get just a few small minutes? I stared down at yet another encrypted message, tugging at the tie that suddenly choked the breath from my throat.

  Remember, Mr. DA. You take care of my second family now. You killed my first. My only offspring. Don’t keep me waiting. You handle my affairs…or I pay a visit to those two young blue-eyed boys.

  Fuck! Fuck!

  Goddammit!

  Ignoring his message from last week, Carlos Agli wasn’t going to let me forget.

  He’d never admit the actuality that his daughter was dead.

  Or the fact that, in reality, the accident was her fault.

  “Seth, in my office in fifteen.” I slammed the phone back down on the receiver.

  Italian tycoon Geovanny DeLuca had been charged with illegal possession of firearms. Only ten months ago, he’d been convicted of thirteen numerous charges, getting off with little less than a slap of the hand. Besides being a close friend, Seth Mayfield was my right-hand man at gathering false evidence to use against unfortunate innocent souls we picked to keep men like DeLuca on the streets.

  Another one of Agli’s connections would be set free. Another innocent man’s life ruined. />
  My phone buzzed with an incoming call. “Jackson Shipman.”

  “Hi, Jacks. Just wondering if you could do lunch today. The boys are at Mother’s Day Out. This baby and I are craving sushi … bad.”

  “I’m busy as fuck, Coco.” Her sigh was long and exaggerated. I stared up at the ceiling, knowing damn well I’d never hear the end of it if I didn’t give in and take my sister to lunch. “Okay, can you come this direction? I’ve only got about an hour.”

  “Same place as before?”

  “Same place. I’ll see you at 12:30.”

  Before I knew it, I’d briefed Seth as much as I could, checked in with the man I paid to tail my sister at all times, pulled out a storage container on the Richardson conviction, and breezed over a resume. It was 12:15.

  Fucking hell.

  Thank Christ the sushi joint was only a block away. At 12:32 I walked in, my sister nowhere in sight. She was late. Go fucking figure. I sat down at a private table instead of the rotating sushi bar, knowing Hartley’s condition probably wouldn’t allow her to comfortably sit on the bar stools. I sipped on a glass of sparkling water, breezing through email on my phone.

  “Okay. Spill, Jacks.”

  “Holy shit, Coco. Don’t sneak up on a man that way.” Only inches away from me, she slid in her seat, adjusting her waistband or some kind of girly shit. Fuck, she looked uncomfortable, but I knew damn well not to say a word. Justin had warned me more than once about the hormonal outbursts of a pregnant woman.

  “I went ahead and ordered you a Spicy Tuna roll and a Crunch Roll. I didn’t know how hungry you were. Think that’ll suppress your craving? That baby looks hungry to me.”

  “Great! You just told me I’m fat. Absolutely fucking fantastic,” she said, her sneer quickly changing into a smile. She was so damned in love with those two boys and Justin, I really didn’t think she cared at all about weight gain under the circumstances.

  “You’re not fat, Coco. You’re pregnant. And you look absolutely beautiful.” Now she was tearing up. Jesus, I didn’t understand how pregnancy got a woman so riled up.

  “I’m so happy, Jacks. I can’t even explain how good things are. I wish so bad you’d settle down. My kids need cousins. Besides, my big brother needs someone special in his life, too, whether you want to admit it or not.” The waiter brought our food, Hartley’s gaze going from me to the four courses I’d ordered.

  “Raw fish, Jacks? Gross!”

  “It’s salmon sashimi and it’s a far cry from gross.” Not sure if pregnant women were supposed to eat uncooked fish, I reached for a vegetable dumpling to offer her, but she was already digging into the Crunch Roll I knew was her favorite.

  “So stinking good. I love this place,” she said, trailing a napkin across her lips. “Now, I want to know all about Layla.”

  Fuck.

  “What exactly would you like to know, Coco?” I knew perfectly well what she was asking, but didn’t have a damn inkling of how I should answer. I shrugged with the beginning of a smile as I recalled the conversation about slimy fish and rice that I’d once had with Layla.

  “Ask away little sister. Other than details of her anatomy, okay?” I refused to discuss another woman’s pussy with my kid sister, the faint remembrance of that conversation pulling a much-needed smile across my face on a day that had evolved into utter hell.

  “She’s beautiful and she has feelings for you. I could tell.” Popping a Tuna roll in her mouth, she beamed with a smile. “Good thing the boys are still young. When we stopped by, the entire house reeked of sex. You may want to get a Scentsy or something if you’re gonna be fucking in the kitchen.”

  Jesus Christ!

  Clearing my throat, I set the piece of fish back down that thankfully I hadn’t attempted swallowing for fear of choking on my sister’s bold words, my appetite lessening as I stared at the nosy, blunt baby sister that had no intention of letting this conversation end without some sort of answer.

  “Jesus, Coco.” I swallowed the uncomfortable lump lodged in my windpipe, knowing she wasn’t going to stop without some sort of explanation. “Well, you obviously know her name and that’s she’s breathtakingly beautiful.” For a quick minute, I wondered what she was doing at the moment, trying like hell to forget the disappointment in her face when I dropped her off at her apartment three days ago. Hopefully she was doing something special for herself with the money now in her bank account. And more than anything, I hoped she was okay. She damn sure hadn’t been the last time I saw her.

  Neither was I.

  “Breathtaking? Oh. My. God.” Her words were exaggerated as she bit her bottom lip through a smile. “You like this girl. It’s all over your face.”

  My sister was entirely right. I did like Layla.

  Too motherfucking much.

  “Doesn’t matter, Coco. She’s already kicked me to the curb. I won’t be seeing her again.”

  Hartley’s lips narrowed. “Damn, are you okay, Jacks?”

  No, I’m not okay. I’m in love with a liar. A deceiver. I’m in fucking love. And I have no idea what to do about it.

  ****

  “I love you Jacks. Please be happy.”

  Christ, she was emotional again. I’d never understand the concept behind the female hormone. “I love you, too, Coco. Give those boys a tight hug and thank them for the water gun. Tell them their cool Uncle will see them real soon.”

  “You’re their only uncle,” she whispered, kissing my cheek. “But I’ll tell them anyway.”

  Back at me desk fifteen minutes later, I could only shake my head. Glad I’d taken the time to have lunch with Hartley, I was deep into Mark Richardson’s evidence, which I’d seen a dozen or more times, wondering if in some crazy way, I’d missed anything. Watching that same close-up clip again, not only was the scar identical, his stance was exact. We had more than enough photos to prove Mark Richardson’s posture matched the masked man perfectly, let alone the small scar on his jaw. He stood with a slight slump to his shoulders in each photo, giving me what I already knew was proof of his guilt. I placed the written letter of confession inside and latched my briefcase, my head buzzing with thoughts of if, how, why. If we tried to make something out of whatever this thing was brewing between us, how I could promise her safety … and why I’d take such a dangerous risk for someone I actually had feelings for. My family was my priority. One fucking mistake and I could lose everything. Any day, I could lose a case. The one that would end with me riddled in bullets. Or worse.

  I’d thought of the only possible choices of getting out of this shit show a million times. One, I could tell my sister and her husband the truth. Tell my mother, load us up and leave the country in hopes of never being found. Secondly, I could hire a gun and try to take down Agli. The third choice was the most sensible. Work harder. Stay on the good side of the judges. Pray like fuck I could take care of the next case that came up, and lastly—forget Layla.

  How in fuck’s sake could I do that?

  I was a selfish prick. I didn’t want to let her go. Every time I kissed her mouth, she moaned against my lips. Each time I pushed harder against that deep tender spot and she pulled at my hips a little stronger, my barrier broke down just a little more. I think I fell in love with Layla Richardson the minute I was inside her. Watching her walk away left me with one of the worst feelings I’d ever experienced.

  Dread…Puzzlement…Discomposure.

  And mainly—denial.

  We both knew there was something between us. It was there the first day we looked at each other in the courtroom. Thoughts of never seeing her again wrenched at my gut. Pre-Layla, the self-reproach I lived with twenty-four seven was always a reason to visit Venture. A good, hard, anonymous fuck, followed by a night of aged scotch made each criminal I’d set free seem just a little more innocent. Clouded my judgement just enough to where, for a few hours, the guilt didn’t rot my insides.

  But now, Venture was the last thing I needed. All I wanted was to go home—to Layl
a.

  But she was gone.

  I shot off a quick text to Hartley. I needed to visit my nephews.

  Chapter Twenty

  Jackson

  “Shit, I’m sorry, Jackson. They’re already asleep.” I laid down the dart board I’d picked up on the way over.

  “Hartley’s gonna love your newest gift,” Justin said through a smile. “She’ll be thrilled.”

  “Hartley will, or you?” I answered, confident that Justin was a bigger kid than the two he had. I knew for a fact he never got a chance to play the way most kids did growing up, so I didn’t hassle him too much.

  “Where is Coco? Is she already asleep, too? I guess I should have waited and come over another time. It’s too late.”

  “Fuck no, it’s not too late.” He handed me a dark Heineken and I took a long cold swallow. “She’s at that damn yoga class again. She’s all worked up over her weight.”

  “She’s pregnant! I stressed that to her at lunch today.”

  “I know. She’d be beautiful no matter what. Plus, I love the hell out of her full with my child. If I have my way, I plan on keeping her pregnant just as much as me and my loaded soldiers can manage.”

  “Jesus Christ, man. Have you ever heard the term too much information?”

  The last thing I wanted to do was discuss my sister’s sex life. Especially knowing Justin and his history. It had taken me a good long while to erase thoughts of him with my baby sister. He’d been just like me only a short time ago. A strong Dominant, even once labeled ‘Master J’, he’d owned Venture, the largest BDSM club in the entire area. Right along with me, he’d done his share of some dark shit in his time, only to surprise the hell out of me by selling out and entering the corporate world when Hartley turned up pregnant. He and his closest friend, Tyler Yates, had both phased out of the lifestyle after falling in love. Many people in the life changed, but the two of them were my biggest surprise. Something inside me made me wonder if I could do the same one day.

  “Tell me about this Layla chick.” Justin’s eyes lifted. “Hartley likes her. She swore she had stars in her eyes when they talked about you, whatever that actually means.” I quickly wondered exactly what they’d discussed. My sister had a nosy factor a mile long. I hoped she hadn’t pushed too far. “Oh, and I’ll pay you for whatever the boys demolished in your house. Hartley said they went ape shit. I’m sorry about that.”