by Tigris Eden
“You can have that, too.”
Catch stared at Jackson for long moments before saying, “Had it, man. Lost it. Not going there again. But I’m happy for your sister and her husband. Happy for you and Anna, too. She’s beautiful. You two will make some amazing babies. Be there for them. Tell them you love them every fucking day. Don’t let a moment slip by that your girl doesn’t know how you feel and how much you appreciate her.”
“Thanks, man, I do, and I’ll keep doing it.”
Jackson had gone to Sophie’s funeral. She’d died while giving birth to Catch’s twins. It had been a devastating blow to the Gaines family.
“No more talking about our feelings. I got shit to do. I’ll call you when I put things into play. For now, I’ll keep a close eye on Anna, and Dorian is seeing to Joey. My boy tells me Anna’s down at the tattoo parlor right now, getting a sick ass tat.”
The hell did he mean his fiancée was getting a tat? She hadn’t said anything to him about getting a tattoo.
“Great.”
Catch smiled widely, folded himself into his Challenger, and peeled out.
“Way to stay under the radar, asshole,” Jackson said under his breath.
He really hoped it wasn’t Morales, and that there was some other leak they had no clue about. He even hoped that Gaines was just getting too old for his job and was just being sloppy without even realizing it. If it was Morales, there were going to be a lot of unhappy people, and Jackson was going to be first in line to personally beat the shit out of the man. Morales had been to Jackson’s home before, even tried to date his sister once upon a time in crazy town. If it was him, Jackson was going to be hard-pressed to ever trust a so-called friend again.
Anna still wasn’t home by the time Jackson made it back to Bear’s house. He sent a text to Catch to find out the status on his future wife’s tattoo.
How long does it take to get a tat?
Longer than it takes a woman to suck my dick.
TMI. How much longer?
Well considering it is a back tat, I would say another hour or two. I’m no expert tho.
Well, hell. That sucked.
Ava was still out with Lo and Chantelle. Treat and Joey were coming home tomorrow, and he was going to be informing them that he and Anna were getting married in less than three weeks. August 21st was the date. The hotel had been completely bought out, it hadn’t been cheap either, but Anna was worth it. They were getting married in Jamaica, and honeymooning in Costa Rica. He’d even gotten her photographer friend to take the wedding pictures. The ‘dress’ she’d picked out at the store turned out to be three different dresses. He paid for all three and was having them delivered to the hotel, she could pick then and the hotel had a seamstress on hand if there were any changes that needed to be made. He knew he was being high-handed, but he didn’t care. He just wanted to start his life with her. They still didn’t have a home to live in, but Finn and Sawyer had begun work. Their foreman was overseeing the majority of the build and promised Jackson he, Anna, and Ava would be in their new house before Christmas.
Once they were done with their honeymoon, they’d come back and stay with Treat, Joey, and the baby. Treat had already given him the all clear. The last thing he needed to do was clear things up with his lawyer and make sure that he could leave Ava in Treat’s capable hands while on his honeymoon. He’d debated whether to take little Ava, but when he talked to Pearl, she’d told him that he and Anna would need the alone time to properly get their hold on each other and sink in deep.
Jackson grinned.
Sink in deep was right. He planned to plant himself inside and put down roots that could never be removed.
Things were happening fast, and he knew Anna wouldn’t be happy with the sudden change in plans, but that couldn’t be helped. Gaines and his brothers would be there, not just for backup, but because they too were like family. They’d already done their fittings, and he’d called the tailor to let Fred know he needed to step up the timeline.
He really hoped Morales was clean, because if he wasn’t, that meant he knew about Fabiano trying to take out Anna. Regardless that Peretti wanted to send a message, it was all too clear. He’d kill those closest to Jackson in order to see that he got what he wanted, and what he wanted was the NSA off his back. Well, that wasn’t going down.
The kids in the neighborhood saw Jackson pull in and were now at the door, asking for a pick-up game. He didn’t mind at all. It was one of the many things he enjoyed about staying in Bear’s neighborhood. People were friendly and respectful. Still nosy, sure, but for the most part, they were a tight-knit community. He’d gone down to the barbershop and found that it wasn’t like the Great Clips or Shears he was used to seeing back in Beauville. It wasn’t some chain haircut place. It was a real, honest to goodness barbershop, complete with an old barber pole. Two large front windows were dressed with lower curtains at the bottom to shield those sitting and waiting their turn for a cut, and outside were two areas for patrons to sit and play cards or chess or dominoes. The area was clean and nostalgic. All the shops along the block were old-fashioned.
Trill’s barbershop was called Sweeny Trill’s, and in the window was a picture of a meat pie, and a woman who resembled Mrs. Danvers, wearing African apparel and a huge smile on her face. The sign above her said, Come on in, I dare ya.
“Jackson, man, you gonna come shoot hoops with us or what?” one of the kids asked at the bottom of the stoop.
“Didn’t your mother teach you manners, I’m your elder, that’s not how you talk to me.”
“Man, you’re the po-po, come on out so we can school you again.”
“Again? I don’t recall there ever being a first time, Ant.”
“Yeah, well, never say never. You coming, man, or what?”
Jackson told the kids he’d be out as soon as he changed into a pair of gym shorts and a t-shirt. Anna would be home eventually, and he had nothing but time on his hands. He made sure to be aware of his surroundings as he played ball with the boys. Fabiano was in town, and could be, at this very moment, watching him. He can watch all he wants, Jackson thought. Pretty soon, things would come to a head, and all the pieces would fall into place.
I walk through the door, and the first thing I hear is the beautiful sound of Xavier fussing. They came home an entire day early. It’s the most amazing sound ever, and I laugh as I hear my brother in the kitchen, asking Jackson what he should do.
“I don’t want to wake her up, she’s tired, and Xavier is my responsibility, too.”
“Well, I saw on a movie where rocking and singing works.”
“Do I look like I sing?” Treat says, clearly put out.
Men.
I walk in the kitchen. The tattoo hurt like a son of a bitch, but once I got used to the sound of the needle, and what to expect as far as pain went, I zoned out. That was until Q started shading; that was its own personal hell. My tat isn’t finished; there is way more to go, but the majority of it is done, and it’s perfect for the wedding.
Both men stare at me for a moment, but they don’t say anything. I know Jackson will have words when I turn around, and he sees what’s exposed by the dress I wear, but right now, they’re both flustered over my nephew and his very well developed lungs.
“Hand me my nephew,” I say to my brother, who gladly hands over his son. I wrap him securely in my arms. “He needs to feel swaddled. Newborns like to be wrapped up tight. It gives them comfort, makes them feel like they’re still in a womb-like environment,” I tell them.
I walk over to the couch where baby stuff is tossed onto the cushions and hear mumbling from the guys. I’m sure my back looks a sight as displayed by the cutout of the dress. I motion for Jackson to push the stuff aside. Xavier isn’t crying, but he’s about to start fussing any moment. I can tell by the furrows in his forehead.
“Hold him close to your chest while I set up the blanket,” I tell my brother, handing him his son. He takes Xavier, and I notice that
Jackson is watching me intently. “The girls aren’t back yet with Ava?” I ask conversationally as I fold the blanket in order to swaddle little Xavier.
“Not yet. When were you going to tell me about the tattoo?”
There is a wrap covering my back, so he can’t really see it.
“Today. Right now. The moment I walked through the door. I didn’t know I had to have your permission.”
“You don’t, baby. I just never figured you for the type to get a tattoo is all.”
I smile.
“Looks can be deceiving, love.”
I reach for Xavier, and Treat hands him over. I lay the baby down and tightly wrap him in his blanket. He calms immediately, and his eyes close. I walk a few circuits around the living room as I sing him a song my mother sang to me as a child. When I’m done, Xavier is fast asleep.
“I’ll take him up to his momma, you two put something out on the grill so we can eat. I’m starved.”
Jackson and Treat look at me as if I’m a totally different person.
“What?” I ask, trying not to wake the baby.
“What was that?” Treat asks. “You’re like the baby whisperer.”
I grin.
“What language was that?” Jackson asks.
“Kiswahili.”
“You speak Kiswahili? What is that?”
“It’s a Bantu language, and no, I just know the words to that lullaby. Something about wind and having sweet dreams. My mom can tell you, her mom sang it to her, and so on and so on. So I’m gonna sing it to my Godson slash nephew. My mother taught it to me to sing to my children, and her mother taught her. My great-grandfather some generations back is Ugandan and was brought over to Jamaica. It was his son that migrated to the States. It’s just part of our family’s tradition. You got a problem with that?” I ask, raising my brow.
“Nope, none at all, although I may need to record you singing that and then put it in a bear so the kid can have it all the time.”
I have to hold my laugh in. Treat looks so lost and awed at the same time.
“Brother, I can teach your wife how to sing this song, and Joey has an amazing voice. I’m sure Xavier will appreciate the real vocals instead of some teddy bear.”
“Deal.”
I turn to leave when I hear Jackson say, “I’m going to be one lucky bastard.” Then my brother follows up with, “You sure will. We’re both lucky.”
Until Her: Chapter 20
“You get my message?” Catcher was standing in line at their usual coffee spot, Jackson behind him as they waited to place their order.
“Yeah, I got it. But I’ve yet to see Fabiano.”
“Yeah, he went to Trill’s yesterday, said he needed a haircut. Trill called me the moment he sat his ass in the chair. I told Trill not to cut his throat because the brother had no problem going orange.”
Jackson just bet he didn’t. When he’d given everyone the update on what was going on, the cousins had gone through the roof. They were all about revenge. He would have indulged them, but he was trying really hard to stay on track. He’d spotted Fabiano two blocks from the house, which meant Morales was a rat. It pissed Jackson off, and it cut deep. He and Morales had spent a lot of time together while in school. It wasn’t about why the man would do such a thing—to a person he claimed was his brother—but more of how could he do something like this. Because they were brothers. They’d been to each other’s homes. Sat at one another’s tables. He’d met Morales’s family and had gone to his nephew’s baptism.
Fuck.
It had been Morales’s brother and his security crew who’d installed his alarm. All this time, he’d thought it was Inara who’d let Fabiano inside his home because she had a key. He was wrong.
“How do you want this to play out, Jackson?”
He needed to think about that because right now, he wanted to call Morales out on his shit. Wanted to know why he’d allow someone to hurt Anna. What did Peretti have on him? He had to have something hanging over his head in order for him to betray his friends in this manner. Was he the same person who’d given the intel that night when Jackson and Gaines had met at The Spot?
Has to be.
He would have intimate knowledge of the cases that came through Gaines’s desk. They weren’t partners, but they bounced shit off each other all the time. Morales had been at Inara’s crime scene, doing cleanup.
“How do you think we should handle it, Catch?”
“We need evidence. We can’t just bring him in on a hunch. Fabiano knows you’re here, they aren’t going to see it as Morales being a rat. It’s going to look more like a coincidence. Or he could say his phone or network was compromised. We need to catch him in the act. Pictures of the two of them talking. Some sort of transaction. Something.”
Catch was right.
“What about getting a search warrant?”
“Had one of my guy’s slip in and check out his pad. It’s clean. Nothing there to incriminate him.”
“We don’t have time to have someone approach him either. I want this case closed, and before we all leave for Montego. I want to be able to sleep without this shit weighing me down. The longer Peretti and Fabiano are out there, the more anxious I get. It’s affecting Anna. She can feel it, too. The walls are closing in, and I need room to breathe.”
“Well, I may be pulling this right out of my ass, but I think you need to try and get in contact with your original guy.”
“Original guy?”
“Yeah, the guy who gave you the envelope.”
“I don’t have a number for him.”
If he had, he would have made contact a long time ago.
“Well, you’d better hope he has eyes on you.”
That was going to be next to impossible. That guy was a phantom. In and out. There was no telling if he’d ever make contact again.
“That guy’s like you, a ghost.”
Catch thought about it for a moment before placing his order with the girl at the counter. Jackson waited his turn and did the same. While walking towards a booth, Catch turned in his direction and said, “I’ll have Harper put the word out, he has a way of finding people who don’t want to be found. Or at least he can get the message out.”
Jackson hadn’t met Catch’s entire team, but he knew they were resourceful. Hopefully, Harper could pull it off. They did their weekly meet, and got caught up on all things that involved the vicious bastard, Fabiano. He’d gone to Trill’s, and Jackson knew it was a way for the other man to test the boundaries. See how close he could get to finish the job. Well, it wasn’t going to happen. Not on his watch. He was going to protect his family at all costs.
Damn.
Jackson took a deep breath and tried to maintain his composure, finding it was fading fast. Too fast. This time, they were in a shed out in the back of Bear’s backyard. The bathroom was a no go. Even if the window was closed, Anna could still be heard. So now they were in the shed, and he was in the lounge chair as Anna slid up and down on his cock. They were both sweaty—there was no ventilation whatsoever inside. It was their own personal sauna, or death trap, depending on how one looked at it.
“Baby, you gotta hurry, I’m not going to last long,” Jackson said against her breasts. She was moving fast, gripping him tighter, and with every push and pull of her body, she owned him. Jackson moved his hands to her waist and tried to grip her hips, but the two of them were so damn sweaty, he couldn’t get a good hold. She was naked, and Jackson was still in his jeans and t-shirt. She’d started off wearing a sundress, but it had quickly come off when he had to get to her breasts. Her underwear was non-existent, and that fact was why they were in the shed fucking at this very moment. He’d taken one look at her and knew, without a doubt, that she was bare underneath that pretty gold number she’d donned after her shower.
He asked if she could help him with something outside, and Anna knew the score. She’d asked Treat to keep an eye on Ava, and even Treat knew. Though her now big brother,
as he liked to call himself, was pissed, he understood. Jackson had given him so many passes when he’d been first courting Joey, so he knew Treat wasn’t going to say shit. They’d walked out back, and at first, it was all hands, mouth, and harsh breathing. She’d tugged on the waistband of his jeans, leading him towards the shed. He was not about to turn down Anna’s pussy, any day. Not even on Sunday. He’d waited so long for something so real, that all other snatch paled in comparison.
He was whipped.
Sprung.
Head over heels.
To the moon and fucking back again a million times over. He loved Annabelle Macon, and until her, he had no idea what he’d been missing out on.
“I need more,” she said on a puff of air.
He was more than ready to assist her in that department. He couldn’t get a hand between them because she was literally glued to his shirt—fabric that was more than a little soaked. He was getting lightheaded. Lust drunk. And at any moment, he was going to reach the finish line way before her. She’d come twice already, but he wanted one more. Just one more. Jackson pulled one of her nipples into his mouth, sucking and biting until she started to squirm. He could make her come just by playing with her breasts. It was the best damn thing ever, and right now, it was working to his advantage.
He worked her until she started to sing, and just like the last two times, he swallowed her sound with his kiss. It was the only way for the others not to hear her. She collapsed in his arms, and with what little strength he had left, Jackson came with a muffled roar. He tried to stand with her in his arms, but he was spent. His arms felt like jelly, and his legs felt rubbery.
“I can’t move.”
Anna snickered.
