by Measha Stone
“Why? Because it’s impossible to believe she’d want to be with me?” The vulnerability of his child-self started to surface. Did his father think that just because he considered Jamison unlovable, others would too? He closed his eyes a moment and shoved his insecurities away.
“Women only want a man for what he brings to the table, nothing more. In your case, wealth and power. I know she lives in that three flat on the north side. You think she doesn’t want to get out of that place and move into your condo? Instead of overlooking a back alley, her bedroom would overlook Lake Michigan.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Jamison ground out his response, using the last bit of his control to keep his feet planted where they were.
Barron laughed. “I’ve had four wives, I’m well versed in the selfishness of women.”
“Selfishness? Because they wanted you around? Because they didn’t like being married to a man who thought simply because they were female they weren’t worthy of his time or effort?”
“Every one of them used me. They wanted my name, my bank account, but when it came to following my rules, they refused to comply!” His father’s nostrils flared, and his wide eyes were wild. His irritation was palpable.
“What rules? Let you sleep with other women? Never require commitment from you?”
“They got what they wanted out of the marriage.” Barron sighed, as though the idea of any of his marriages bored him.
“I’d say that’s wrong, considering every one of them left you.” The tension he usually felt when disagreeing with his father disappeared. There was nothing but the urge to push forward and finally speak his mind.
“Don’t forget, Jamison, that one of them left you too!” Barron pointed a finger at him.
“Mother? Tell me again, what happened with Mother? How did you convince her to leave me behind? And never return?” Jamison hadn’t spoken with that Newton woman yet, but he had a good idea of what she would tell him when he pursued that avenue.
“I didn’t do a thing. She just walked out.” Red blotches formed on his father’s cheeks.
“Really? Just left, you didn’t do anything?”
“We’ve been over this! Your mother didn’t know how good she had it. Always asking for vacations, demanding time I didn’t have. And with you—she used you against me. So, when she wanted to leave, I let her. But she wasn’t taking you. She wasn’t going to have you to use against me anymore.”
“Use me against you? How, by making you pay her child support, making you spend time with me?” A damn had burst, words flew from him with little filtration.
“Pay her child support? Do you know what it took to get her to leave you with me? One settlement check. I basically bought you from her. She sold you, Jamison. Your mother sold you.”
Jamison took a step back, as though the words had morphed into hands and shoved him. “You paid her to leave?”
“Paid her to leave you, she was leaving me all on her own.” Barron rounded the desk and came to stand in front of Jamison, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Your mother was like the rest, son. The highest bidder wins them—I’d say they win their hearts, but greedy women like her don’t have hearts. She gave you up for money, and she left me for a man who was even wealthier.”
“She left you for someone else?” Jamison remembered his mother; the soft smiles, the easy singsong tone of her voice. He remembered her putting him to bed every night, spending all her free time with him. Why would she have left him so easily, for what other man?
“Just like Carissa will, mark me, son. I’ve seen her type. Whatever she needs for her cause. If you don’t succeed in getting this shelter under protection, she’ll walk too. And you won’t succeed. I won’t let you.” He jabbed a finger in Jamison’s direction. “This is my goddamned legacy.”
Jamison shook his head and jerked his shoulder away from his father, taking several steps back to put much needed space between them.
Carissa had had no idea the shelter would become a focus for his father until after they had started dating. And she wouldn’t use someone, not the way his father portrayed. She didn’t have it in her.
“You don’t have to build that hotel there. You’re hurting the community—not just my girlfriend, but hundreds, if not thousands, of women and children who need a safe place to go. That place makes a difference, you don’t—your hotel won’t. I’m asking you, as your son…” He paused, shoving a hand through his hair, knowing his next words were pivotal. Words that could bring about the making or breaking of their relationship. “I’m asking you to find another location.”
His father stared at him. The deep disapproval he’d always seen lingering behind Barron’s eyes came forward now, blaring at him. A sneer grew over his lips and his eyes narrowed.
“I have friends in this city, too, Father. I won’t let you take the shelter. And not just for Carissa, but because I need to do something that means something. Buying and selling real estate, owning shares in night clubs—none of that means much. Not when you’re doing it all alone. I’d rather live with a back alley as my window view with Carissa than in any high rise following your footsteps.”
“You’re going to go up against me?” Barron laughed. “You’re as dumb as your mother if you think you can win.” Had he even heard what Jamison had said?
Jamison clenched his fist. The idea to throw a punch into his father’s face struck him, but he managed to calm his anger. It wouldn’t solve anything, and his father would still be as much of an ass as he was before.
“At least the full truth of it comes out. So many years I’ve wasted, balancing your disapproval with my life choices. You never had any respect for me. And you never will.”
“My approval would be won easily enough if you’d just follow me. Take over my business.”
“If I took over your company, I’d break it into pieces and sell it to the highest bidder. Your name would go down in ashes. That’s what I’d do with your company, Father.” The words tasted sour, leaving a bitter, nasty taste behind.
“Don’t be stupid. Only a fool would throw away such potential. Chopping up a company? Throwing away all that money for what, some girl?”
“No. Being a fool is thinking money and buildings will bring you happiness. When you’re lying alone in your penthouse, sick and dying, who will be at your side? All of your real estate? Will your hotel hold your hand while you take your last breath?” Jamison took a deep breath and shook his head. “It’s not the women who don’t have hearts, Father. It’s you.”
Jamison was already at the door, walking through it and ignoring the demands his father began to yell from his office. He ignored him. He had to get to the police station. Then he needed to call his attorney.
Chapter 16
Someone had urinated on the floor. Carissa could smell it. The holding cell housed a dozen women, most of whom had been picked up with her at the protest. She didn’t know why the others were there, and she didn’t care. She only wanted to go home.
Where the hell was Jade? She’d called her almost an hour ago. About forty minutes ago an officer with a badge clipped to his street clothes had come to the cell, calling her name.
She’d thought it was time she was getting out, but once she got to the door, he looked her over and shook his head.
“You’re Carissa McAlister?” he’d asked with little interest.
“Yes, sir.” She nodded submissively. Her insides shook beneath his appraising gaze.
“My name is Detective Damien Warner. If you have any trouble in here, you tell that guard over there you want to see me, and he’ll get me. Understand?”
She had been given her own personal detective? For disorderly conduct?
“I-I don’t understand. I’m not free to go? A friend was coming to post the bail or whatever she needed to do.” Carissa had pressed her face against the bars, looking down the narrow hall, hoping to see Jade walking toward her.
“No one’s posting any
thing yet. You just sit tight and if you need to, you call for me.”
Carissa didn’t get a chance to agree or ask any more questions. The detective left her standing there and went to the guard. Probably to give him the same instructions.
She’d watched him walk back out toward the main room, whistling. He’d been whistling!
And there she still sat. No Jade. No money. And no freedom.
Jamison would be expecting her soon. It was nearing six and she needed to get home, shower the jail scum off, and get to his condo.
He probably heard about the protest already, that there had been arrests, but he wouldn’t know of her involvement. As far as he knew, she was at the shelter, covering for the scheduled nurses who wanted to participate in the protest.
Another twisting ache pulled at her stomach like it did every time she thought about Jamison that day. Lying to him hadn’t been easy, and she didn’t like doing it, but he wouldn’t see her side.
He had said no that one time she’d brought it up, but they hadn’t talked about it again. Maybe she should have brought it up again, maybe she could have convinced him.
“Carissa McAllister?” A uniformed officer unlocked the door.
She pushed through the other women in the room, recognizing most of them as she passed them. They’d all called friends or family and were waiting to be picked up, too.
“Yes. Here I am.” She waved a hand to signal her arrival. Finally! She was going to tear into Jade for taking so damn long.
The officer eyed her and gestured for her to follow him. She was nearly skipping as she followed him down the narrow hallway and through another door.
Her happiness was short-lived, however.
Jamison stood at a desk not five feet away from where the officer led her, glaring at her. Not a disappointed look, not even an irritated look like he normally had when she’d gotten herself in hot water. He was angry.
“Uh, maybe I should wait until my friend comes.” She took a step back but the door had already shut. The officer gave her a disgruntled look.
“He’s right there.” And with that, he turned on his heel and walked away.
She didn’t move. She willed her feet to get moving, promising them the cutest strappy sandals she could find if they would just get her out of there, but instead she just kept staring at Jamison. The detective she’d talked with earlier was telling him something while jotting things down on a pad of paper, but Jamison wasn’t listening.
He crooked a finger at her, beckoning her to him.
She swallowed hard but still didn’t move.
He raised an eyebrow and bent his finger again.
One foot started to move, then the other. Before she could convince herself this wasn’t a bad dream, she was standing in front of him.
“Jamison, I—”
He held up a hand to stop her. “Not one single word. You stand right there until I’m done, then I will take you home.”
So cold. His voice chilled the air.
“I’ll get more information for you within a few days, but do you think you can do it?” Jamison addressed Detective Warren.
The detective looked up, glancing at Carissa then at Jamison. “Yeah. I think I can. Might take some time though.”
“That’s fine. I’ll call you tomorrow, Damien.”
“Jamison—” she tried again.
“No.” He shook his head.
“Talk to you later, Jamison. And good luck to you, Ms. McAllister.” The detective didn’t look very much like he wished her luck. In fact, he looked almost as stern as Jamison when Jamison took her hand.
“Let’s go.”
She didn’t try to pull back from him.
Carissa let him walk her to his car without a word of complaint. She knew this would happen. Knew he’d be pissed if he found out. Jade shouldn’t have called him!
Once they were in the car, buckled in and driving, she chanced a look at him. His jaw was clenched, his knuckles were nearly transparent from the grip he had on the wheel.
“Are you okay? You weren’t hurt?” he asked with a steel-like tone.
“I’m okay,” she whispered.
He still didn’t look at her.
“Is something wrong? I mean, besides the obvious?” she asked.
“When we get home, you’ll put on your bad girl panties.”
That’s it? Nothing else? “Jamison… Daddy, I didn’t mean to get you so angry.”
He shook his head. He wasn’t looking at her, even at red lights, he continued to stare out the window. Something had happened. Something that had nothing to do with her.
“But you did. You blatantly disobeyed me. You lied to me!” His voice rose. Daddy never raised his voice.
“It was important.”
He huffed. Not a real laugh, or a chuckle—just a sound of annoyance.
She left it alone until he parked his car outside her building. He didn’t unbuckle her, he didn’t tell her to stay put so he could open her door. He did open it, though, with a quick yank and a jerk of his thumb, telling her to get out.
She swallowed hard. This didn’t feel the same as when she’d walked toward a punishment before. This, this was different. Permanent in some way. Like a heaviness pressed down on them, and she wasn’t sure a simple spanking would break it up and clear it away.
Maybe she should tell him. Maybe if she didn’t make him wait the week to tell him she’d decided to ignore the expiration date, he’d lighten up. The cloud would dissipate, at least a little.
She unlocked the door to her apartment.
“Saw you on TV just a few minutes ago, got yourself into some trouble, huh?” Mr. Buschmann called down over the railing.
She closed her eyes and took a breath. He could not have picked a worse time to be his nosy self.
“Yes, she did,” Jamison answered and pushed the door open.
Before any other retort could be uttered, she was inside, the door closed and locked behind them.
“Do you want something to drink?” She walked to the kitchen. He needed to calm down; he was too angry.
“You knew all week you were going to go today, didn’t you?” He followed her into the kitchen.
She paused at the dishwasher. “I-I had thought about it, yes. But I wasn’t sure, not really sure, until yesterday.”
“And you thought, what, that if you went, I probably wouldn’t find out so no big deal?” His voice was cold. Frozen, really.
How could she even begin to explain herself when there was no acceptable explanation?
“I know it sounds bad, it looks bad. It’s just, it was important to me, really important.”
“And keeping you safe is important to me, but that didn’t matter to you, did it? Only what you wanted counted.”
“No, that’s not what I meant.” It was coming out wrong; the whole day was happening wrong. Her throat closed up, not because she was in trouble. No, the look on his face didn’t suggest a spanking was coming. It was worse. Darkness lurked there. She knew that expression, knew what feelings boiled beneath it.
“I’m sorry.” She leaned against the counter, remembering what she wanted to tell him, remembering what she’d decided that morning. But when she looked at him and saw the distance, the gap she’d put between them, the words couldn’t form.
“You’re sorry I found out. You’re sorry that I had to bail your ass out of jail. You’re sorry about all of that, but that’s it. You had no intention of ever taking our relationship seriously.” His words cut her.
“No, that’s not true!”
He took a deep breath and looked around the kitchen. She could sense him drifting away. He was still standing there, in her kitchen, but some decision had been made, some horrible, irreversible decision.
“Daddy—”
“No. I think maybe you were right. Maybe these relationships don’t last, they aren’t meant for people like you. Or me.”
“What? No. I was wrong, no, Jamison. I fucked up—sorry, m
essed up—bad, I get that, but you can’t just throw away everything because I was bad one time.”
“You never had any hope for this to last. This has just been a month-long ride for you, and you were going to get off next week anyway. So, let’s just cut through the bullshit and finish it now.”
“Jamison. Please.” She fisted her hands at her sides, she needed to get a grip because soon she was going to throw herself at his feet, and she wasn’t that person. She didn’t beg people to stay where they didn’t want to.
His gaze was hard. Unmoved. Maybe she was as much of a game to him as he accused her of playing.
“No need to delay the inevitable. We’ll consider today the expiration date,” he announced, his voice as hard as his eyes.
The wall was there, fully erect and unclimbable. He’d made the call. He’d ended them.
She swallowed hard, bit back the tears that were threatening to fall and stood straighter.
If he wanted to go, fine. She wouldn’t beg or cry for him. No. If he wanted out, there was the door.
She stood in her kitchen while he quietly turned and walked out of her apartment. He didn’t even slam the door. The quiet click of it latching was worse. So much worse than an impassioned leaving.
He was gone.
She blinked, letting the tears fall.
He was gone. Just like every other man she cared for had left her.
Chapter 17
“I don’t understand you.” Garrick leaned over his cheeseburger and nearly growled at Jamison.
Jamison popped a fry into his mouth and chewed slowly.
“What’s to understand? I told you, we had a deal. One month.” He shrugged, lifting both shoulders. The energy it took to act as though walking out of Carissa’s apartment three days ago hadn’t torn him into pieces was exhausting.
“Bullshit. I know you said that, I know you told her that, but I also know that you weren’t looking at that date as a real end date.”
