by Measha Stone
“I’ll deal with him if he does.”
“You won’t be able to stop him. I’ve seen men like him. I’ve seen him and what he’s done to communities.” The sadness in her voice tore at his heart. He bundled her up in his arms and kissed the top of her head, ignoring the chill of the February air.
“I will handle this. I don’t want you to worry about it.”
She looked up at him, uncertainty lingering. “Okay, Daddy,” she whispered and pushed her face back into his chest.
He’d never made a promise before that he wasn’t one hundred percent sure he could keep. But he’d never loved anyone with such ferocity before Carissa, and he’d move the Earth off its axis for her. And going up against his father could prove just as large a task.
Chapter 14
“So, how’s things with that large hunk of a man who picked you up last weekend?” Margaret grinned, displaying dimples on both sides of her cheeks.
Carissa had started her new shift at the hospital, and it had been a few days since she’d been able to make it to the shelter. She should have known Margaret would want to know all about Jamison.
“Things are going okay.” She downplayed the entirety of their relationship.
The truth? Everything was going perfectly. Too perfectly.
Jamison had slowly eased his way into her life, taking over parts of her world that she had never considered penetrable before. He wasn’t overbearing or too stubborn. He was strict, and hell, she liked that about him. She tried to put up a good front, but he saw through that right away. If he said she was getting a spanking, she got a spanking. There was no wiggle room, no backing out, no forgetting because he got busy. The man’s focus on her was uncanny.
He’d bought her a Keurig! After the second time he’d come over to her apartment to find coffee burning away in the carafe, he’d gone out and bought one for her along with a six-month supply of K-Cups because he knew she wouldn’t go out for more.
Groceries were delivered to her apartment. She filled her virtual cart and set the order, but he went in after and pulled out the garbage, replacing the items with more veggies. The first time he did it, she’d thrown a fit on the phone with him. But the sound belting she received that night for it taught her never to do that again. If Daddy said she had to have a green veggie with every meal, she was going to be eating a green veggie with every meal. But she still snuck in a box of HoHos before the cutoff time for the order.
Margaret laughed. “Okay? I saw the way his eyes devoured you. That man has it bad for you, I’d say okay passed a long time ago.”
“What do you mean?” Carissa followed Margaret down the hall to the clinic. Jamison’s stare was intense, there was no denying that, but that was his normal way of looking. Right?
“I mean that men who feel okay about a girl, don’t look at them the way he did you. He watched you like you were some goddess moving around, like you’d entranced him. And”—Margaret continued while unlocking the clinic door—“letting you stay to help Joyce? I mean, he didn’t let you stay, you would have anyway, but he insisted. He didn’t even give it a thought that it would make you two late for whatever you had going on. I’ve seen plenty of men come and go around here, annoyed their girlfriend or wife was putting volunteering in the way of their reservation at some hoity-toity restaurant or making them late for a meeting. He didn’t give it a second thought. This was important to you, and that made it important to him.”
“You got all that from a few minutes with him?” Carissa tried to brush it off. Because it couldn’t be that deep. If it was that deep, if his feelings ran that hot for her, she’d start letting the idea of not calling it quits after the month was up seep in. And she’d been doing her damnedest to block that thought. Even if she stayed up late remembering how warm his lips were on her, and wishing he’d spent the night with her. Even while she missed her elevator stop at work the day before because she’d started daydreaming about him, she did not allow the thought of forever to enter her mind.
“No. I got that from the second he saw you walk out of that classroom. You better hold on, because I don’t think this one’s going to let you walk away.”
“I don’t walk away from men.” Carissa found herself getting a little more defensive.
“No, it’s more like a run, but not with him. Don’t get upset. It’s a good thing, and I know you’ve have a legitimate reason to get rid of all the rotten ones in the bunch. But this one isn’t rotten. That’s what I’m saying.”
“So, now he’s produce?”
Margaret laughed. “Joke all you want. Now, not to change the subject by changing the subject, but I wanted to tell you I’ve got some bad news about the offer to buy out the shelter.”
Carissa tensed. It was the one topic Jamison avoided after the night with his father. Jamison had promised he’d take care of it, and every time she tried to broach the subject, he firmly told her to drop it.
“They’re still pursuing it?” Carissa pulled an inventory list from the cabinet and busied herself with work. The clinic was technically closed, and the full-time nurse had gone home for the evening. It was Carissa’s job to be sure they were well stocked for the next day and see any emergencies that couldn’t wait until the clinic opened in the morning.
“It looks like the city is starting to get on their side. We got a letter discussing eminent domain.”
Carissa dropped the clipboard but quickly picked it back up. “How can a hotel be more important that this place?”
“We aren’t a government shelter. We’re private, so we aren’t as protected, and since the city has shelters, they don’t feel we’re necessary.”
“But those shelters are being strangled by all the red tape, lack of funds, and corruption that come along with the government funding.”
“I agree. That’s why my grandparents opened this place.” Margaret hopped up onto the exam table. “We’re getting a protest together, to fight against the city council. We’re hoping to get a few newspapers and TV stations to come to a rally, force the issue into the public eye.”
“That’s a great idea. Just tell me when and where.”
“Next Saturday afternoon. Three o’clock in front of Croft Enterprises.”
“Well, count me in!” Carissa turned back to the inventory. It was going to be a very interesting conversation with Jamison when he came over that evening. Though maybe not telling him would be better.
“Excellent. I knew we’d be able to count on you.”
“Of course. This place can’t disappear.”
Margaret hopped off the table. “It won’t.” Margaret squeezed her shoulder. “I’ll let you finish up. I’m sure your man will be looking forward to seeing you tonight.”
Carissa blushed at the suggestive tone in her voice and faced the cabinet.
Jamison was planning on coming to her apartment. He did most nights.
She would bring up the subject of the protest and gauge his reaction. Then she’d decide if she was going to tell him she intended to go.
As Carissa finished unboxing some newly arrived supplies, her phone rang. Without looking, she swiped to answer, figuring it was Jamison.
“Hey, Daddy.” She smiled into the receiver.
“Oh, um, I’m sorry. I was looking for Carissa McAllister?” An older woman’s voice came through the phone.
Carissa’s smile fell, and she stood up straighter, as though the woman could see through the cell phone.
“Hi, yes, this is her—I mean she. I’m Carissa.” Very suave.
“Oh, good. I was afraid I’d miss you again. This is Valerie Newton. We’ve been playing phone tag for a few days.”
The woman who had been friends with Jamison’s mother. Carissa sat on the rolling stool.
“Oh, yes, hi.” She did her best to sound calm, despite the rippling of her stomach. This woman could know where his mother was. She could have answers that his father had never bothered to give him.
“You were calling
about Katrina Croft.”
“Yes. My d-uh, my boyfriend, Jamison Croft, is her son.”
There was a long stretched-out silence before she spoke again. “Does he know you’re trying to contact her?”
Carissa debated telling her a lie, afraid that she wouldn’t tell her anything if she knew the truth.
“No. It’s sort of a surprise.” She paused. “His father told him Mrs. Croft walked out on them, said she didn’t want to be a mother anymore. Or something along those lines. I’ve met Mr. Croft, and he seems like a man who cares more about winning than he does about his own son.”
A heavy sigh came through the phone. “You have that part right.” Another sigh. “Katrina never wanted to leave Jamison behind, but that man—that bastard—refused her any visitation. He made her sign away her parental rights. He was a controlling asshole when they were married. When she told him she wanted a divorce, it only got worse. I don’t know what he held over her, but whatever it was—it was enough to make her sign the papers. One day she was married and a mother, the next divorced and never allowed to see her son again.”
Carissa had already guessed something along those lines had to have happened. From what Jamison did tell her of his mother, there had been no signs that she wasn’t happy as a mom.
Her alarm on her phone beeped. She needed to head home if she was going to be ready when he came over for dinner. She was going to cook for him.
“Do you know where she is now? Have you kept in touch with her?”
Another dark silence stretched out. “No. I’m sorry. I haven’t spoken with her since she left town. She never gave a forwarding address. She only told me she was moving to Indiana; I think she had distant relatives there.”
Another dead end.
“Oh.” Carissa heaved a sigh. “Well, at least I can tell him this much. His mother didn’t simply abandon him.”
“No. It broke Katrina to walk away. I think that’s why she left Chicago. Please. Feel free to give Jamison my number. I’d love to talk with him, and maybe we can find her. I’ve worried about her over the years.” Sadness tinged her voice.
“I will. Thank you for calling back. I really do appreciate it.”
Baron Croft didn’t care whom he destroyed so long as he won. Well, he wasn’t going to win the shelter. Carissa would see to that.
She burnt the rice.
Carissa stared at the pot brimming with overcooked rice, much of which had burnt onto the bottom of the pot.
As she was getting ready to throw the whole pot into the trash, Jamison walked into the kitchen.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, pointing to the pot she now held over her head and aimed it at the trash can.
“I burned it. Again.” She lowered her arms. “I’m going to buy one of those damn rice cookers. I can’t do it the old-fashioned way and besides, we shouldn’t be eating rice anyway. Too many carbs.” She tossed the pot into the open garbage can and put her hands on her hips.
“Well, first, watch your language, that’s the only warning you’re getting tonight. You keep letting the curses slip and I’ve been too lenient.”
Too lenient? Which relationship was he watching?
“Second, we can skip the rice tonight. I’ll get you a rice cooker if you really want one, because I love rice, carbs or not.” He moved to her side and slid his hands around her waist, pulling her to him.
She inhaled the comforting scent of his aftershave and nestled into his neck. Nothing felt more like home than when she was in his arms.
His touch was enough to put her at ease. She froze with the realization.
“What was that?” He chuckled. “You got all tense.”
Of course, she had. Her damn brain just wouldn’t cooperate with her plan.
“Nothing.” She maneuvered her way out of his embrace and went to get the meatloaf from the oven. Potatoes would have gone better with the meal, but, like he said, he loved rice. And she enjoyed giving him what he loved.
“You know that surprise I told you about?” she asked him.
“Yeah?”
She placed the hot loaf pan on the table and gave him a quick glance over her shoulder. Should she maybe lead with the protest?
“Well?” He chuckled when she didn’t continue.
She dropped the oven mitts next to the meatloaf and turned to him, pressing her ass against the edge of the table. “After you told me about your mom, I did a little digging. Nothing dangerous,” she added quickly. “Just a Google search and a Facebook message.”
His smile fell a little at the corners. “Go on.”
“I didn’t find her exactly, but I was able to get a hold of Valerie Newton. Do you remember her? She was a friend of your mother’s.”
“Newton?” His brow wrinkled. “The name sounds familiar, but my father does a lot of business with a lot of people. What did this lady have to say?” She noticed his knuckles whiten as he gripped the counter behind him, leaning back against it attempting to look casual, but she knew it had to be bringing up some emotions for him. Some unresolved hope or anger.
“Not much, really. Just that she hadn’t seen your mother since she left Chicago. She went to Indiana, but—” Carissa weighed her next words. “She did say that your mother didn’t want to leave you. She thinks your father held something over her, had something to use against her in order to make her sign away her parental rights.”
His expression darkened as he thought over her words. “I won’t lie and say that didn’t occur to me over the years. He’s not exactly used to losing and losing a custody battle even one he didn’t really want to win would still be losing. Did she have any other information?”
“No. She said she thinks your mother went to Indiana, that she had distant relatives there?”
Jamison nodded. “I think I remember an uncle who lived that way. It’s been too many years.” He dragged his left hand through his hair and took a deep breath. “You did that for me?”
She nodded, still unsure of his reaction. She hadn’t found out much, and, in the process, had managed to open a few wounds. Did that count as a success?
He moved to close the space between them and pulled her into his arms, placing a kiss to her forehead. “Thank you.”
“I didn’t get very far. But she did say for you to call her. I have her number for you.”
“You did a hell of a lot more than I ever did.” He kissed her again and held her tighter. “I think I know of someone who can help us do more searching. I’ll talk with Mrs. Newton then with him.”
She peeked up at him to find the darkness fading away and a warm smile cross his face. “I wasn’t sure you’d be happy about me poking around.”
“While I don’t want you contacting people you don’t know, I’m not mad about this. You did this for me and were somewhat safe. I mean—you didn’t meet her or tell her where you live, did you?” An eyebrow shot up.
“Of course not.” She giggled.
“Good, but no more poking around, okay? I think you’ve gotten a good start, and I agree, I don’t think my mother just walked out on me. I think there’s more, and I want to find out what it was. Our dinner is getting cold. Sit down, and let’s eat.” He gave her another kiss and a pinch to her bottom before letting her go.
If he had concerns, he wasn’t showing them to her, and he didn’t seem to be preoccupied in the least. It was the perfect time to bring up her next subject, since he seemed to be in such a lighthearted mood.
“I talked with Margaret today. She said the city sent her a letter. Looks like your father is going through with his threat of using eminent domain to make them sell.”
“I know.” He let out a heavy sigh and went to the dishwasher to grab plates. “I spoke with him today. Briefly.” His voice went tight, like any second it could break from the tension. A far cry from the happy place she’d just had him.
“She said they are planning protests. This weekend, in front of your father’s building.” Carissa kept her focus on sli
cing the meat loaf and placing it on the plates he held out to her.
“I doubt it will do much good.” He already sounded defeated. As though the battle was lost before the first firing of the cannon.
“You think they should roll over?”
He put the plated meals onto the kitchen table and gestured for her to sit. “I didn’t say that. But they are a non-profit organization that isn’t backed by the city or the state. Seeing as there are city and state shelters throughout Chicago, they are going to have a hard time convincing the city council that they are more needed than the others.”
“They aren’t competing against the other shelters. They are trying to save this particular one from being turned into a hotel!”
“I know that, Carissa, and watch your tone.” He lifted an eyebrow and pointed to her chair again.
Sinking into it, she stared at him while he took his seat across from her. They weren’t going to get anywhere. Baron Croft was Jamison’s father. He may have taken a big step in standing up to him at dinner days ago, but there wouldn’t be much else he could do.
“They want me to join the protest. I’m off on Saturday—”
“No. Absolutely not.” He shook his head. “Those protests can get dangerous. I’ve seen them, and my father isn’t going to idly sit by and let his building become a focal point of their campaign.”
“We have every right to protest peacefully,” she reminded him. Was he really going to let his father win?
“Yes, they do. What I’m saying is my father will have the police there to make sure nothing gets out of hand. And he’ll portray them as rioters, not protesters.”
“Rioters?”
“I told you, my father is ruthless, especially when it comes to his company. He won’t let them make him look bad.”
“And I bet he has just as many friends at the damn news stations as he does on the fucking city council.” She shoved the plate away from her and jumped up from the table. Not only had his mood soured, but her own withered up and died as well.
Jamison pushed his chair back, caught her wrist, and yanked her over his lap in one quick motion. She barely registered the action until her stomach made contact with his strong thighs.
