BlackJack (A Standish Bay Romance Book 1)

by Donovan, Christine

  Chapter Five

  John and Cameron had been at odds with one another ever since Sunday morning at the hotel. Cameron stayed holed up in his room playing his music and refusing to see anyone since they arrived home. Monday morning came and John had to leave for work soon and his house basked in shambles. Cheryl was in the bathroom relieving her stomach of her breakfast while their two-year-old son, Matt sat next to her watching with fascination.

  Five-year-old twins, Heather and Taylor were emptying their bureaus, each looking for a favorite piece of clothing, which John knew, would be found in the bottom of the hamper. Try as they might, they could not keep up with the laundry. It lived as a bottomless pit, never going away. There were times he swore the clothes were breeding and multiplying. And to top everything off, Cameron’s ride would be here in ten minutes and he had yet to leave his room.

  John had the task of dropping the twins off at preschool on his way to work. If he couldn’t convince them to wear something from the pile on the floor, he’d be late. And if that didn’t cause enough stress, they were expecting another baby. He needed his head examined. And never mind his concern about Shannon over Cole Jackson. Christ he needed a drink. And drinking at seven-thirty in the morning just wouldn’t look good. He’d have to settle for his favorite pink drink.

  Somehow he survived the morning. Now he sat at his desk going over paper work before he headed out on the town in his cruiser, hoping for an uneventful, quiet day. Like that would happen today of all days. He gulped his black coffee, trying to perk up as he mused over the Cole Jackson problem. His son and ex-wife were so taken by the man, it got him to thinking maybe, just maybe, the man did get a raw deal. John seriously doubted it, but he knew sometimes justice didn’t prevail.

  ***

  Shannon’s small shuttle plane to New York’s LaGuardia Airport rattled her kidneys the whole way, which didn’t help the stomachache she’d had since last night’s encounter with Cole. On top of her irritable stomach, her head pounded so badly not even three aspirins had dulled it. She certainly hoped she didn’t look as bad as she felt. Because she felt like someone had scrubbed her against a washboard, pounded her against the side of some rocks for extra effort and left her out in the scorching heat of the day to dry. Needless to say, it was not a pleasant feeling.

  When the plane finally landed, she thanked God. Although, truth be told, she didn’t know how she’d get through her busy day. Her agent, Carol Sawyer, was picking her up at the airport, then taking her directly to lunch. After lunch Carol was dropping her off at her first book signing. The signing was in a small independent bookstore in SoHo. It was a quaint, personable bookstore that sold a decent amount of her books. It was owned by a nice, older couple who always made Shannon feel welcome.

  After she finished there, she would take a cab to the Hilton, check-in and prepare for dinner with her editor, Kevin English. Shannon always looked forward to seeing him. And she hoped if she timed her day right she might have time for a phone call or two to start her research into Cole’s case.

  Later in the afternoon, after a harrowing cab ride across the city, Shannon’s nerves were even more frazzled. After scanning her key card, she opened the door and gasped. Sitting on the table, which served as a desk, sat two dozen long stem red roses. Mesmerized by the sight of them, she hurried across the room and opened the card. “Shannon, thanks for believing in me. Cole.”

  She sat down on the edge of the bed and gave herself five minutes to have a good self-pity cry. Whatever happened to the days when you could have a good long cry? Spend all day brooding over your broken heart. Obviously, it was not to be in this lifetime anyway. She didn’t have the time.

  After her shower she threw on a robe and called one of the New York police stations. The police sergeant she spoke with was helpful. He gave her the number of the station were the homicide detective who handled Cole’s case worked. There were times when having a well-recognized name was an advantage. He never questioned her motives, so she let him assume it was research for a book.

  She dialed the correct station house, but Detective Guy Simone had left for the day. Shannon left a brief message, her hotel number and her cell phone number. Next she would try to reach Cole’s lawyer. The name was embedded in her mind. The case had received so much publicity, and Cole’s lawyer had been one of the top defense attorneys in the country. Fortunately for her, he resided in New York. She dialed Arthur Monroe’s law office and was surprised to be connected to him. He didn’t know how much he could help her. Anything Cole had shared with him was confidential, but he did tell her what courthouse the trial was held in and she should be able to request a copy of the transcripts. They were public-record since the case was closed.

  After thanking him, she hung up and her brain began to hum. Not too bad for today, because now, at least she had somewhere to start. Fortunately, due to the nature of Shannon’s work, and her love of writing romantic suspense, she knew a few good investigators. Hopefully she might be able to convince one of them to take the case. Especially if she did all the legwork by giving them the court transcripts and internet research pertaining to the case. It might be hard, she mused, since the investigators all lived and worked in Boston, but it was worth a shot.

  Shannon, dressed in a stunning black cocktail dress, black ballet flats and a black lace wrap, went down to the lobby to meet her editor. Per usual, Kevin arrived promptly, impeccably groomed and stylishly dressed as always in a dark gray suit, starchy white shirt and muted print tie. He stood no taller then she, so she always wore flats when they dined or went anywhere together. “Kevin, hi.” She kissed his cheek and hugged him. “How are you?”

  “I’m fine.” He stepped back. “Let me look at you.” He winked. “You look positively radiant.” He looked closer, and his brows suddenly drew. “Your eyes don’t look so good though, have you been crying?”

  Shannon ignored his query and linked her arm through his. “I’m fine, let’s go.” She wondered if he’d bring it up again. Knowing Kevin as she did, she didn’t doubt it.

  Kevin drove a small silver BMW sports car made for speed, but speed was impossible to find this time of day so they drove out of the city heading toward Connecticut at a snail’s pace. They went to a small bistro just over the border. Shannon gave him credit, he waited until their wine arrived and after they toasted the success of her book, “Hot Stones,” to drop the bomb.

  Leaning forward he gave her the look. He had a way of staring at her, making her know he had some juicy information to tell or information he wanted to know. And in this case, she’d bet her life on the fact it was information he wanted to know.

  “Rumor has it you were back stage at the BlackJack concert at the Boston Garden and your son performed with the band.”

  He said it in the nonchalant way Kevin had of pretending he wasn’t interested in something, when truthfully, he was dying inside with curiosity. Shannon tried to hide her surprise that he would know this. “The gossip mongers at work?”

  Kevin laughed. “No, the internet.” He raised his eyebrows inquisitively. “So, tell me, is he as gorgeous as everyone says?”

  Playing dumb, she asked, “Who?”

  Kevin grinned. “Come on Shannon, you know who, Cole Jackson, that’s who.”

  Not many people in the business knew Kevin was gay. Many suspected, but he confided in Shannon one night after he’d had too much to drink and was depressed over a breakup with his long-term partner. Since then, they’ve been really close. And personally, she thought Kevin liked the mystery surrounding his sexual preference, which stood to reason why he’d never openly come out, so to speak.

  “Don’t we have business to discuss?”

  Kevin laughed. “We already had our business meeting.” He winked at her. “We’re here to discuss our personal lives as pathetic and nonexistent as they are—or were—if your blushing is any indication.” He wiggled his brows. “Do tell.”

  Shannon took a sip of her wine. Kevin was one
person she could tell anything to. John was another, although she would never discuss Cole with John ever again. She ignored the little stab to her heart when she thought about losing John’s friendship.

  Kevin was an avid listener, so she retold the night’s events.

  “So, you slept with him didn’t you?”

  She turned three shades of pink. “You always could read me like a book.”

  Kevin nearly dropped his wine glass in shock. “Oh God, you did. I was just kidding. Details, I need details,” he said excitedly as he leaned in closer. “I need lots and lots of juicy, wet details.”

  Her top teeth bit down on her bottom lip. “Actually I didn’t and not by my choice mind you. I wanted to. Hell, I threw myself at him. He didn’t want to. His life is a mess right now, and he’s not prepared for a relationship.”

  “I’m sorry. You could’ve used the sex because you never sleep with anyone,” he clipped. “In fact, when was the last time you had sex?”

  “Kevin, please, enough,” she said mortified and wondered how her cheeks could get any warmer.”

  “Are you sure he’s not gay?” he asked with a spark of hope in his gray eyes.

  Shannon choked on her wine. “Quite sure.”

  “I’m really bummed,” he said as he held up his hands in disappointment. “I was holding out hope that after spending all those years in prison, he may have had a change of heart and switched sides, so to speak.”

  The waiter arrived with their Caesar salads, causing them to pause their discussion. When he was out of earshot, Shannon remarked, “Sorry to disappoint you, but he’s on my side, so to speak.”

  Kevin frowned. “Well, I can dream, can’t I? So, are you seeing him again?”

  Her lips tugged down into a frown and her eyes watered. “I don’t know. I don’t think so. He’s on tour for six months. I don’t even know where he lives or how to reach him. Besides, John read me the riot act and came to the hotel for Cameron the next morning.”

  “You don’t answer to your prick of an ex-husband anymore.”

  Shannon’s eyes widened. “Since when have you thought John was a prick?”

  “Since now.” He winked.

  He handed her a tissue from his pocket. “Jesus Shannon, I’ve never seen you like this. In all the years I’ve known you, I’ve never seen you cry. Not unless you were crying from laughing too hard.” He reached across the table and took her hand. “What can I do? Just give me the word and I’ll go after John. I’ll beat him up for you. Hell, I’ll even seduce him if it’ll help.”

  Laughter bubbled out of her mouth as she fought to contain her tears. Her hand curled around the delicate wine glass and she sipped, hoping to soothe the fire burning the back of her throat. “Thanks Kevin, but no.”

  All through dinner she kept expecting him to ask whether Cole had killed his wife and what she thought about it. But she should have known better with Kevin. He wasn’t going to upset her any more than she already was. And she truly loved him for that.

  They drove to her hotel pretty much in silence, listening to Mozart on the car stereo. Kevin knew her well enough to know she didn’t want to talk anymore. They pulled up in front of her hotel, and he turned to her with concern in his eyes.

  “Do you want me to walk you in?”

  Shannon leaned across the stick shift and kissed his cheek. “No, thank you and I’ll be in touch.”

  Once in her room she ran a hot bath, hoping to soak away the soreness of her day and force her mind to concentrate on what was to come tomorrow. Her agent was picking her up at six and bringing her to the set of Good Morning America and from there to two different bookstores and then she was free until her flight the next afternoon to Chicago. For now, she plopped down on the bed with her laptop, powered it up and typed in the name Lindsey Jackson.

  ***

  Cole tried to relax back in his too cramped for comfort airplane seat and listen to the music on his phone. There was nothing like a little Led Zeppelin to get you through a flight. Cole, AJ, Ted, Anita, Brad and Dawn were flying to New York and crossing over the bridge to New Jersey while the road and equipment crew went in the band’s specially equipped buses. Tomorrow night started their three consecutive nights of shows at the Meadowlands. Then they were taking five days off and meeting up again in Philadelphia, then Pittsburgh and so on across the country.

  Ever since his release from prison, Cole hated to travel. He obsessed with thinking everyone looked at him and saw a man who murdered his wife. AJ thought he was just being paranoid and maybe he should see a doctor about getting on some meds to help his paranoia. Cole rolled it over in his head and thought AJ was probably right. Most people didn’t know who he was, yet he still felt uncomfortable around people and in crowds. Felt as though everyone was whispering about him, watching him, judging him.

  He never minded the whispering and attention when Lindsey was alive, but now he had such low self-esteem he couldn’t get over the stigma of being a convicted killer. He definitely could use a therapist, but he was never in one place long enough to form a bond with one.

  Somehow, regardless of the uncomfortable seat, he must have dosed off because before he knew it, they were preparing to land in New York. He told himself it didn’t matter. He was on his way to New Jersey.

  At the airport, the band members were caught up in a whirlwind of press and fans. Cole tried to stay out of the limelight, but since word had gotten out about how successful their Boston shows were, they were bombarded. He forced himself to be civil for his fellow band members. They’d put a lot on the line for him. Each of them immediately dropping what they’d been doing when he got out of prison so BlackJack could rise again. He felt he owed it to them to put on his acting face and swallow his pride about reporters and about being interviewed. But if just one reporter mentioned prison life or Lindsey’s death, he’d walk.

  After the first night’s show, Cole braved the so called “back stage room.” He wished to God Shannon was there with him, giving him her strength and support. But the quicker he got this over with, the better. However, nothing could prepare him for Kyle Ward approaching and engulfing him in a bear hug, which Cole didn’t return. Ward had some nerve coming here.

  “You look good, man,” Kyle said. He leaned close and spoke quietly. “I hope you understand why I couldn’t testify at your trial. With my re-election coming up, I couldn’t risk it.” He paused and glanced around. “I thought after I was re-elected I could help your cause more. You don’t know how sorry I was at being unable to help. I hope there are no hard feelings.”

  “None,” Cole forced through gritted teeth. “If you’ll excuse me, I must get going.”

  He made haste to the door before he stayed and punched the lights out of ex-senator Ward. Cole was almost free from the confines of the crowded room when he was stopped by a young, petite, bubbly blonde who shoved a microphone in his face and opened her mouth and let the bomb drop.

  “Mr. Jackson, do you have anything you’d like to say about your wife’s death?”

  He felt as though he’d been sucker punched in the gut—completely stripping his breath from his lungs. Refusing to answer her, he left the room before he had a full-blown panic attack for the entire world to see. Unfortunately for him, the bubbly reporter didn’t get the hint. She followed him down the hall. He smelled her overpowering perfume, heard the click of her heels echoing in the hall and her annoying voice repeating her question over and over again. He never looked back. He crashed out of the stadium door, climbed into the limo and finally was able to take a deep breath of relief as it pulled away from the curb. Christ, he couldn’t live like this. He had to get control of his emotions and his life. A reporter and Ward in one night. How dare he show up tonight and think they could pick up their friendship where it had ended. Cole could never forget how Ward had thrown him to the reporter wolves fifteen years ago when he’d been arrested. Not to mention, he screwed his wife. Was there no honor among friends anymore? Obviously not, if
he and AJ both fucked Lindsey. AJ, he could forgive. He’d been in love with her. Ward used her shamelessly, and Cole had often wondered if he could’ve killed Lindsey in a jealous rage over her affair with AJ. Ward may not have loved Lindsey, but he didn’t take kindly to sharing her either.

  After he exited the limo, he donned Oakley sunglasses, a ball cap and strolled into the hotel bar. His eyes scanned the crowd and he sighed with relief. No one paid much attention to him, thank God for dark places. He took a seat at the bar and signaled the bartender.

  “What’ll it be?”

  “Soda water with lime,” Cole answered.

  The bartender appeared middle-aged, of average height, bald as a cue ball and he didn’t give Cole a second glance as he dragged over a bowl of bar mix. He placed his drink on a cocktail napkin and went back to fixing drinks and drafts for the other customers.

  Cole absentmindedly munched on the snack as he stared into his glass. Before the woman slipped onto the stool next to him, he’d almost gagged at her overpowering smell. Hadn’t she ever heard of subtle perfume? That was twice tonight he was bombarded by strong perfume. Only after she ordered a drink and didn’t make a move to vacate the bar stool, did Cole turn his head and look at her. Early twenties, dressed provocatively in tight, low slung jeans and a clingy sweater that didn’t quite reach the top of her waistband. Someone would have to be blind not to notice her cleavage spilling out the top of what Cole was certain would be a miracle bra helping them along. She was quite pretty with short dark hair, dark eyes and mocha skin. What some would call an exotic beauty?

  “I don’t mean to bother you,” she said with a sexy southern drawl, “but I wanted to tell you I saw your concert tonight and had a blast. My friends and I love your music and were thrilled when New Jersey was one of your tour stops.”

  Cole turned and peered over his shoulder to her table of friends. There were two men, one black, one white and two women, both white. He glanced at the woman beside him and wondered how she’d been elected to approach him, and he noticed for the first time, her hands shook with nerves, which made him smile at her. “Thank you.”