by Tigris Eden
Jackson threw everything into the kiss, trying to instill all he was feeling. He needed her to believe he was coming back. Nothing was gonna stop him from returning. He knew this was all new to her. Nothing too dangerous happened in Beauville. That he was back on active duty with the NSA meant he was in danger. All the damn time. He’d put his ass on the line, and because of it, he and Treat had to disappear. He wasn’t entirely comfortable leaving Anna. Even if she was with Treat and Joey. Treat still wasn’t at one hundred percent, and wouldn’t be for a few more weeks.
His phone rang again, and Jackson pulled away from Anna, answering the phone.
"Storme."
"I'll meet you at the airport. Gate 7."
That was his gate. How did this guy know that?
"I'll be there."
"Good. Come alone."
The phone disconnected. Jackson looked over at Treat and grimaced. He really didn’t want to leave. But he had no choice.
''All right, darlin’, I gotta go. I'm gonna go say bye to Ava. Remember to take your meds. Listen to your doctors. And if Beau makes you uncomfortable, you tell Treat."
"Right."
She was smirking. Actually smirking.
"What's so funny?"
"You are. I think someone's jealous."
As if. He wasn’t a jealous man. There was no reason to be. What he was, though, was not blind. He knew Beau was waiting for his window of opportunity. It was an opportunity the man would never get.
"No, darlin’, a man doesn’t get jealous.”
"Sure they don't."
“If the man-child makes you uncomfortable, you let Treat know.” He said again, this time more forceful.
“All right.”
“I’m not fucking around, Anna, he makes you feel even a little bit edgy, you let Treat know.”
“I said all right.”
“Good girl.”
Several thoughts go through my mind as I watch Jackson leave. He looks so serious. Focused. It’s like he’s two different people. There's Sheriff Jackson, and then there's Agent Storme.
“Anna, you have time to talk?" India walks over, a smile on her face, and I know she wants to talk shop. Maybe the distraction will be good for me.
"Sure, what do you have for me?"
"Well, I met with the designer. We had some ideas, and I need your input."
"Sure. I'm excited to see what they've planned.”
I know India wants to start as soon as possible, and I don’t blame her. We go over the initial design; a 3D model that is like a walk-through. We go through it several times, and I try to stay focused, but I drift back to Jackson. India breaks into my thoughts when she says excitedly, "I love what they have planned for my studio loft."
"I know, right. It’s perfect. Now we just have to find the right builders."
“True.”
It really is perfect. We laugh and do our girly screams. My squeals aren’t as convincing, but I try and maintain my composure. Ava comes barreling down the hall and almost runs into the sofa.
"Slow down, Ladybug."
She is breathing deeply, a huge smile on her face.
"Nana's here. She brought me some cupcakes to share with Auntie Joey and Uncle Treat.”
''Okay, sweetie, go share."
"What is Jackson's mom doing here?” India asks.
"No clue."
But I have my own ideas. His mother is nosy and resourceful and…speak of the devil, there she is, standing in the doorway in a twinset and high-heel sandals, diamonds in her ears and around her neck. She's come to gloat. I can see it in her eyes. I wonder if she knows Jackson works for the NSA?
''Mom, what are you doing here?" Joey asks Corrine.
Joey's mother has a look of despair on her face. It’s the first time she’s shown any real emotion.
"Where's Jackson? He must come quickly."
“What's wrong?" Treat walks into the room where India and I are sitting with Ava.
“There's been an accident,” Corrine says, her lower lip quivering. My stomach knots and I become physically ill. I know nothing is wrong with Jackson; otherwise, she wouldn’t have asked for him. The only other reason she’d come here is because of Vivian.
"Is it Vivian?" I ask.
Corrine's eyes rake over me with such hate I inwardly flinch.
"Well, Corrine, what is it?" Treat asks again.
"Vivian's locked herself in the restroom. She's not answering. I'm concerned."
She does look worried. Lola grunts, and Chantelle stifles a giggle. Ava is the one whose eyes have gone wide with worry. The little girl turns to me, her precious mouth puckered in concern.
“I'll go to the house, Corrine. Jackson's left for New York."
"She needs Jackson. Only he can help her."
"Sounds like she needs to be put in the nuthouse is what it sounds like to me," Chantelle says.
"Mind your mouth," my mother says in a hushed tone. I reach for Ava's hand and do my best to reassure her.
"I'm sure your mother is fine, Ava."
"Okay." Her tiny voice is smaller, and I can hear the beginnings of tears. I try and take Ava's palm, but she doesn’t want my hand. Instead, she jumps into my lap, making me wince in pain. I bear it because it’s what she needs.
"Bear, can you come with so we can see what’s going on?" Treat asks.
"We should all go," Lola shares.
"No one is going anywhere except my husband and Bear. Mom, why didn’t you call 911?” Joey says.
"Because Jackson is 911."
"Mom, that makes no sense!”
''It makes perfect sense."
I can’t believe I'm hearing this. Corrine can't be that stupid. Ava is in my lap, nuzzling my neck as only little girls do. She's sniffling and making hiccup noises.
"Corrine, Jackson can't help Vivian," I say, rocking Ava back and forth.
"Yes, he can. As soon as he realizes you and he are not gonna work."
I'd like to say there is some civility still left inside of me when it comes to handling situations, but it’s not true. I can’t stand Vivian, and I really dislike Corrine. I'm about to open my mouth, but Lola beats me to it.
"Now, hold the fuck on. You're not about to come up here in Joey and Treat’s place disrespecting Anna like that, you dried up hag. Treat, you gonna let this woman disrespect your sister like that?"
“Your sister?" Corrine says in a whisper.
“Yes, Corrine. Anna is my sister. And Lola is right. You can’t come into my home, disrespecting my family.”
“Amen,” my mother seconds. If I had my camera, I would have taken several pictures of Corrine's face. But I don’t and must commit it all memory. It’s too priceless not to. There are equal amounts of confusion, surprise, calculation, and anger. Corrine is up to something. I can feel it.
"She's The Mayor's daughter, everyone knows that."
"No, she’s my cousin’s daughter, I just so happen to love her mother, kind of like how you love your gardeners and pool boys, only my affections for Pearl are real,'' The Mayor tosses out, pulling my mom in for a tight hug.
I just can't deal anymore, and with some effort and pain, I stand with Ava in my arms and leave.
Let them work all that shit out. It's not my concern.
Until Her: Chapter 5
Jackson stood at Gate 7. He felt stupid. Like his ass was hanging out in the wind. He was vulnerable. The guy on the phone had said he’d be here. And to do so, he would have had to purchase a ticket and go through security, which made Jackson feel a little better. But this was some serious shit. Even if the guy did make it, Jackson didn’t know who he was looking for. And they were going to start boarding any minute.
"Mr. Storme." A man dressed in an expensive suit with a thick Brooklyn accent sat next to him. He looked older, with a full beard and beady eyes, only he wasn’t. Jackson could tell by his unpolished manners. He wanted to appear older, but this guy was barely out of his early twenties, if even that. What kind of game
was this kid playing at?
"You the guy on the phone?" Jackson asked. He was getting tired of the cloak and dagger shit.
"I'm that guy, yeah. Here." The man shoved a manila envelope into Jackson's hand. "Enjoy your flight. The reading material should be entertaining, at the very least."
"Who are you?"
"Not your friend, but definitely not your enemy. You can't trust anybody. Believe me, I know."
Jackson looked at the envelope and then over to the man who’d handed it to him.
"Anything else I should know?"
The man shook his head.
"It’s all in there. Evidence, and the name of someone you should talk to."
The man stood and walked off before Jackson had a chance to question him more. He had ten minutes left to board the plane, and he knew he should get on board and start reading the contents of the envelope. Instead, he called Anna. It rang several times before she picked up.
"Baby, you okay?” he asked her when her voice sounded concerned.
"Yeah, but Vivian isn’t. She's gone mental. Woman went off and cut herself. Locked herself in your momma’s bathroom.”
What the fuck?
Stunned, Jackson said nothing. He couldn’t even imagine why she'd do something so selfish. There were still feelings there, but only in the sense that she was Ava’s mom. This act of desperation made it all too clear what needed to be done. Of course, it would happen when he had fires to put out. If it weren’t for Anna and his daughter, he’d think someone had him in a revolving door of shit—it felt like it was coming at him from all sides.
"You there?"
"Yeah. How's Ava?"
"She doesn’t understand what's happening. She’s asleep now. I didn’t know if I should call. Treat said not to bother you.”
Treat was right. Vivian was doing this because she thought it would bring him home so that she and his mother could once again team up and try to convince him to be team Vivian.
"Treat was right, baby."
He heard her sigh over the phone. She shouldn’t have to deal with this shit on top of the other nonsense she was dealing with. They were both being put to the test over and over and over again it seemed. Jackson tossed out a silent prayer. If they came through this on the other side unscathed, he was taking her on the longest trip ever. Right after their honeymoon. He’d pack them up, take her and Ava, and just go someplace quiet and away from the drama of Beauville. Keep dreaming. Yeah, he knew it was a dream. She’d want to get started on Event Pics the moment they got home, and he totally understood the drive. But damn, couldn’t they catch a break? Just one?
''Okay, but you should know your mother has it in her head that this is all my fault."
Typical Corrine.
"Baby, I hate to ask you this, you have enough on your plate already... But, I need you to keep Ava. I don’t want my mother or Vivian anywhere near her until I return. You call my lawyer and make sure he makes it stick until I get back. Got it?”
He was going to text his lawyer the moment he got off the phone with Anna and then board the plane. He’d be able to handle this, or at the very least, declare Vivian unfit.
"Yeah. It's no problem. Treat and Joey talked about it earlier, we all agree it’s for the best."
Damn right, it’s for the best.
"Good deal. They're calling the last of the passengers to board. I'll call you when I touch down. I love you.”
“Love you, too."
Jackson fired off a quick text to his lawyer, closed his cell and walked over to board the plane. Envelope in hand, he made his way down the tunnel and onto the plane.
Several things were clear to Jackson when he touched down a couple of hours later at JFK. The contents inside the envelope had more than enough evidence to put Tony Peretti and Fabiano behind bars for life. As well as those under his umbrella. There was an address inside, and Jackson needed to get to the contact and quick. The Peretti family was smuggling in cocaine and using human trafficking to sell national secrets. If the evidence in the envelope was true, someone inside the NSA, alongside the ATF, were helping them not only through customs, but via key players in some of the top government agencies. They were selling classified information to known terrorists. Jackson had to be very careful whom he showed the information to. Everyone at this point, was suspect.
Instead of calling Anna to let her know that he’d touched down, Jackson sent her a text message. He wanted to focus on getting the case closed, but was hesitant to share information. There was a car waiting for him outside, the driver holding up a sign with his name on it. Who the hell had sent a car for him? Hopefully, the driver hadn’t spotted him. He'd told no one, save Tracey, of his arrival time, and the department never sent a car service. That wasn’t part of their travel policy, nor was it in their budget. If an agent was visiting the New York office, it was up to him to get a ride into the city. It made sense; the agency spent their dollars on fighting crime and intercepting those who would betray their country. Not to send car services. Transportation in New York was practically limitless.
Jackson moved with the crowd, found a taxi, and gave the address to the hotel he was staying at. Whoever had sent the car was definitely not a friendly. The driver was overly dressed, and the town car was new. For all he knew, it was someone sent to take him out. He'd promised Anna he’d come back, and he’d meant every word of it.
"This your first trip to the Big Apple?" The cab driver was doing his best to be polite, but Jackson was irritated. He didn’t have time for pleasantries. Someone knew he was coming. Someone who wasn’t an ally.
"Your job is to get me to my hotel, not gab your gums."
“Someone got off on the wrong side of the plane. Hey, no skin off my nose buddy. Just trying to be friendly.”
Jackson grunted. That was all he said to the driver. He went back over the contents of the envelope, hoping he'd spot something he’d missed. There were dates, shipping logs of containers coming in and out of the harbor—it was drug shipments, surely—and some information about tattoos he hadn’t quite figured out. The contact had no name, only an address and hours of operation. What does it all mean? And what’s with the tattoos?
Jackson knew Fabiano had a brother in Rikers. He'd start there and see if he could get him to talk, hopefully turn over more evidence and shed some light on the tattoos. He wanted Fabiano to suffer. He'd been the one to stab Anna. The man was going to pay one way or another, and Jackson was going to make sure it hurt every step of the way.
The cab came to a stop, and Jackson looked at the driver in question.
"This isn’t the hotel."
“You sure?”
"Yes, I'm sure."
Fuck, he didn’t have a gun on him, and instinct told him he needed one, like an hour ago.
"Well, too bad. I was instructed to bring you here, Agent Storme.”
Great.
Tracey.
His mind put a little at ease, he got out of the cab.
She would be the only person who could orchestrate something like this. Jackson stepped under the awning of the building and walked through the double doors and into the hotel lobby. The doorman tried to take his bags, but Jackson refused.
"I got it. I won’t be staying here."
"But you will," Tracey's voice came from his left, and Jackson turned toward her with every intention of telling her about herself, when his tongue got momentarily glued to the roof of his mouth. He was a bit dazed. He'd never seen Tracey in a dress before. He may be in love with Anna, but he wasn't dead. He knew beauty when he saw it. And on Tracey, it was hard not to see it. She wore a revealing black dress with a slit so far up her leg she was showing her hipbone.
“Tracey, I need to get to the hotel. Get situated so we can meet in the morning.”
“We’re meeting tonight over dinner. My treat. There’s a suit in my room 1310. Go up and change and come meet me in the restaurant.” She handed him a keycard.
She was his boss, and becau
se he was now considered an active agent, he had no choice but to comply.
“I’ll be down in ten.”
Tracey smiled and made her way over to the hotel’s restaurant. Jackson went upstairs where he quickly showered and dressed. The suit was cheap, but it would do the job. He wasn't picky. He'd much rather be in his jeans and tee. Not in a fancy restaurant, trying to appease his boss. She was acting like one of the women back in his hometown—petulant and catty.
Anna would rip Tracey to shreds. Jackson snorted at the idea of those two fighting. Anna had a killer left hook. Now he understood what Pearl had meant by Tracey being trouble. Why the woman felt like she controlled him was ridiculous.
He needed to nip whatever she’d cooked up in that head of hers in the bud. He would be crystal clear. Make sure she understood their relationship was strictly professional, in every sense. He placed his envelope in his bag and took it down with him to the restaurant.
"Jackson, have a seat." Tracey was already seated, sipping red wine. A waiter stopped to take his drink order.
“I'll take two fingers of Makers with a single stone. Thank you.”
The waiter nodded before going off to fill his drink order.
"What’s your game?"
"No game. We need to discuss the case and your new partner."
"Who am I working with?"
Jackson hoped whoever it was had at least a few years under their belt. He didn’t have time for rookie questions or concerns.
Tracey smiled widely. She sat back in her chair and winked.
"You're looking at her."
Why would she even work this? He was sure there were other cases she had to manage.
"Why you?"
"I'm familiar with the case. Who else is better suited?"
"That may be, Tracey, but this job is dangerous. The case alone should have you wanting to stay behind a desk. I’m sure you have other assignments to look through."
“Are you saying l can’t handle myself in the field, or that I can’t handle this thing between us?"
Thing between them?
There was nothing between them.
