Burned Page 10

  “Hey, girls,” he said, walking unsteadily from his truck. “Who are my pretty, pretty girls, huh? Who are my pretty girls?”

  A goofy sort of grin spread across his face as he scratched the dogs’ muzzles. He lifted his head, and his gaze met hers.

  She’d dressed in skinny jeans and a tight pink long-sleeved shirt that showed off her curves. She lifted her hand in greeting.

  “Whoa. Hey to you, too, girl,” Jackson said, his grin turning from goofy to wicked.

  “Hey, Jackson. Looks like you had a good time with your friends.” She smiled, leaning against the door jam.

  “I did, I did.” He made his uneven way across the gravel and grass. “Logan declared himself designated driver, so he drove me home. His girlfriend followed us over here to drive him back to his truck.” He chuckled. “It’s complicated,” he added, with a swish of his hand. “And now I hope to get lucky with my woman, and we can wait on the Share-Gate bomb you texted me earlier. Do we have to?” he said, adding a dog-like whine.

  Maxine and Midget barked by his side.

  “You’re giving them the wrong idea,” Blaire said, her heart performing leaps in her chest.

  Yes, we must talk tonight. I finally got up the courage.

  “That’s my plan,” he said, with a grin. “To confuse and distract.”

  She knew he wasn’t talking about the dogs.

  Erasing the distance between them, he snaked his palm behind her neck and pulled her close for a whiskey-infused kiss.

  Heat bloomed in her belly as his hard body pressed against her.

  Signs of his erection stirred beneath his jeans. Easing back, he focused his sky-blue eyes on hers. Even with the haze of drink, his gaze was clear and steady.

  His eyes always made her want to dive in deep, submerging herself in their shared bliss. Today, though, she had to get something off her chest—Karlos.

  “I miss you every day when we’re not together,” she said, pressing her palms against his leather jacket. “But I made good money. I got some mega tips today.”

  “Good, that’s good,” he said, leaning past her to push the door open wider.

  The dogs trotted happily through the door, no doubt relieved the pack was together again.

  “We can always use more cash,” he said. “Let’s get inside, shall we? I’m ready for some fun of the physical kind.” He waggled his eyebrows.

  She swallowed, wanting to stall. “I didn’t recognize the one guy—Logan?”

  “Yeah, that’s him,” he said, grabbing her hand and pulling her toward the front room.

  She had to trot to keep up with his long-legged stride.

  “We call him Blaze. He’s a hotshot wildland guy. One of the best. He lost his entire team a few years back in a fire,” he said.

  “Oh, that’s awful. What happened?”

  Jackson flopped onto the sofa, pulling her down with him. “They got trapped in a firestorm. Hauled out their shake and bake bags—their fire shelters—and hunkered down for the duration. But the fire was too intense. Everyone died but Logan. His face is scarred, though.” His expression darkened as he spoke.

  “Oh, that’s horrible. The grief he must carry,” Blaire said, straddling him. “I hope you never have to go through something like that. I’ll die if I lose you too soon.”

  Just the thought of potentially losing him nearly crippled her.

  “Yeah,” Jackson said through a long breath. He gave her an intense, serious gaze. “It’s a possibility every firefighter has to face. And you know we all must die sometime. In every relationship, there’s an ending built-in. I hope ours doesn’t happen for a long, long time.” He punctuated his statement with a look that practically scorched her panties. “But we all practice safety. And, to comment on your statement, I did have a good time with the Grifter and Blaze. But, I admit it…I was kind of drinking to forget.”

  “Forget what?” She slid her hands underneath his jacket, savoring his warm, hard muscles through his short-sleeved shirt.

  He fingered a lock of hair from her face. “My brother. He stalked me at the pack test this morning. He’s so skeevy sometimes the way he just appears out of the blue. Said he was just out this morning and ‘happened’ to see me. I didn’t believe him. He was out looking for me or else he somehow knew where I was. Then, he mumbled something about ‘would I get him out of prison if he had to go.’ I said no, in case you wondered. Hell, no. Fuck, no. Just no.” He laid his head back against the couch and closed his eyes. “Jake makes me tired.”

  “I understand,” she said, swallowing hard. “I wonder why he said that? Do you think he’s planning something?”

  Without opening his eyes, he said, “I dunno. Could be. He swears he isn’t, but you never know with an addict.”

  She eyed his thick, strong neck, and then leaned forward to kiss him. Her lips found the pulsing vein in his neck, and she planted several kisses there, thanking the great whatever, that he was in her life, alive and well.

  His hips rocked into her, and her resolve nearly buckled. Maybe we could do this share-thing later. He’s tired.

  She pushed away from him and said, “I want to—”

  Eyes still closed, he said, “I caved and bought him lunch.”

  She stilled. “Bought who lunch? Jake?”

  His eyelids fluttered open, and he lifted his head like it weighed a ton. “Yes, Jake. He said he hadn’t eaten all day and his eyes were clear like he wasn’t high, so…” One of his big shoulders rose and fell. “I figured what could it hurt. I didn’t give him money. I only fed him. Lord knows we’ve both had to find food for the other throughout the years. It’s kind of like breathing, I guess.” A dark expression rolled across his face. “Only it hasn’t been reciprocated for years.” His hands reached up and cupped her breasts, massaging them through her shirt. “I’m trying, Blaire. I’m really trying.”

  He brought his head forward and gently bit her right nipple through her clothing.

  She moaned and arched backward. “I know you are,” she said.

  Tell him.

  She opened her mouth, but Jackson interrupted her again, saying, “I don’t know what to do, babe. I honestly don’t. I thought my idea to go camping with Jake was a solid one. You know, a think-outside-the-box kind of idea.” He pushed his large, warm palm underneath her tight shirt, evoking ripples of pleasure. “But now I’m wondering if you’re right. We don’t know what he might do if we go camping with him.” His fingers worked their way underneath her bra, and goosebumps formed along her arms. He lifted an eyebrow. “But I don’t for a moment think he’s capable of violence.”

  “Yeah. I don’t know.” Her gaze darted around the room before settling on his eyes. “I never told you this, but your brother always…ever since I met him…he always looks at me strangely. It gives me the creeps. Spending time with him in the woods is like agreeing to be in a horror movie for me.”

  “Shit, Blaire.” Jackson’s brow creased. “I wish you’d have told me that. You’re right, that might change things. But, then, he’s an addict. I wouldn’t take anything he does personally.” His eyelids closed half-mast, and his fingertips deftly twirled her nipples. Lips parted, he tipped his face up for a kiss.

  Her head inclined and her lips met his. The heat of their connection drove all thoughts of shared confessions out of her mind—until her brother’s voice began shouting through the lust. If we don’t know what’s going on, we can’t help you or be there for you. She struggled to free her mouth from Jackson.

  “Before I met you, I was in a cartel in Venezuela,” she blurted.

  He scrambled to sit up.

  “What the fuck?” he said, his eyes flashing fire.

  “Me. I was in a gang. I got in some big trouble. And the guy…Karlos…he’s coming to Seattle. And I think he wants to hunt me down and kill me.”

  Time stopped.

  Even the dogs lifted their heads from their beds and stared at her. She couldn’t decipher Jackson’s expression
, but it sure looked like disappointment, disgust, or even betrayal.

  Her confession had been one, big fat mistake.

  Chapter 13

  Jackson’s hands gripped Blaire’s shoulders, and he gently guided her off his lap. Any thoughts of getting down and dirty with her had been obliterated by the bombshell that had just flown from her mouth.

  He blinked. “Do you want to repeat that just so I’m certain I heard you correctly?”

  “I got caught up in gang activity in Venezuela,” she said, her eyes bright with tears.

  “So, you’re some kind of criminal,” he said flatly. “I’m in love with a criminal.”

  The haze from the whiskey he’d consumed earlier made it hard to think straight. He raked his hand through his hair and tugged it, relishing the sharp ache.

  “No, it isn’t like that,” she said in a pleading voice.

  His heart beat loud and fast in his ribcage. “What’s it like then?”

  “It’s like…I grew up thinking I didn’t matter. Through no fault of anyone’s other than my family was so busy, and I was so quiet I was often overlooked. I was desperate for attention. I wanted somebody…anybody to see me. Enter Karlos, a South American playboy. He approached me while I was on a hiking trip in Colorado with a friend of mine. Walked right up to me and said some stupid smooth line like, ‘At last. The girl of my dreams is right here in Colorado.’ He even got down on one knee, grabbed my hand, and kissed it.”

  “And you weren’t at all suspicious,” Jackson said, in that same, flat voice.

  Her lilac gaze flew to meet his eyes. “Well, sure I was. Especially when he told me, he was a billionaire. I mean, why would a billionaire want me?”

  Jackson’s jaw dropped as he stared at her. “Because you’re stunningly beautiful? Because you’re amazing? Because you’re kind and funny and intense and you made me feel like a king the minute you smiled at me?”

  “Made…” she said, her shoulders slumping. “I made you feel that way. Not anymore.”

  “What? No. That’s not what I meant,” he said. His hands clenched into fists on their own accord. Relaxing his fingers, he took a long, deep breath, getting into what he called his “paramedic mind.” That mind gave him calm detachment in the situation at hand—and this was definitely that type of a situation. “How could you think you didn’t matter, Blaire?”

  “That’s what my brother said. I called Zayden earlier. He said, of course, everyone in my family cares. They were all just so busy and consumed with their own lives when we left the house and, he said, when we were young, I was the glue that held the family together. And he said he gave up on me when I stopped returning phone calls. Everyone gave up on me. And my parents think I don’t like them now.” She sniffled as a few tears fell along her cheeks.

  Agitation rocked his insides. His head swam with the effects of alcohol. It wasn’t helping him make sense of the puzzle pieces Blaire had spread before him.

  “Be right back.” Without waiting for acknowledgment, he bolted to his feet and stalked to the kitchen to get some water. Standing at the kitchen sink, he filled a white teacup Blaire had left at the counter and glugged the water, trying to clear his whiskey-muzzled brain. When he returned to the front room, he reached toward the side table and retrieved the box of tissues. “Here you go,” he said, extending a bit of kindness.

  This story…gang activity? It doesn’t make any sense.

  A flash of gratitude skittered across her face as she plucked a tissue from the box.

  He set the box between them, like a small wall.

  “And Karlos is here to kill me,” she said as the color drained from her face.

  “Why do you think that?” His heart sprinted, but still he made no move to reach out. He was trained to fight fire—to save lives—but how can I save her from a killer? His mind scrambled this way and that, searching for solutions.

  She wiped her face but didn’t answer his question.

  “Are you going to leave me?” she said, in a small voice.

  “Tell me the whole story. Start from the beginning. I need all facts,” he said like he was an interrogator. “You met this guy, Karlos, in Colorado. He wooed you with his skeevy, practiced lines. Then, what?”

  “When you put it that way, it makes me feel like an idiot,” she said, some of her fiery temper rising to the surface. She bunched up the tissue and glared at him.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, impassively, aware of how cold he sounded. He’d always been able to detach from life when it got difficult. That was how he survived. It might not be the best strategy to cope with this moment with Blaire, though. He forced a small smile. “Tell me more.”

  “No,” she said. His response seemed cold, but she deserved it. She deserved whatever she got.

  “I don’t recognize you right now. You’re…you’re…you’re cold. Icy. Even your face looks different.” She waved a hand at him. Then, she picked up the tissue box between them. “Let’s stack more of these, one on top of the other until we can’t see one another. What do you say? Shall we build a bigger wall?”

  Something snapped inside. Any inebriation he’d felt when he’d walked through the door vanished, leaving a dull headache.

  “No. That is.” He snatched the flimsy box from her hands and threw it across the room.

  It thwacked against the wall, startling the dogs.

  “That’s a wall,” he growled.

  Blaire’s eyebrows rose.

  He waggled his finger between them. “This is a difficult moment. And I still know nothing. I love you, baby, but I need a little time to process what you’ve told me before I go all gun-waving psycho.”

  Maybe Blaire was exaggerating. Karlos wants to kill her? Is she overreacting?

  Midget rose to her feet, approached the box, and sniffed it cautiously.

  Maxine soon followed her sister’s lead.

  They both turned and looked at Jackson, wagging their tails hopefully.

  “Come here.”

  They trotted toward him.

  He patted their soft heads, seeking some sort of comfort.

  He turned toward Blaire. “Tell me the story, please. I need to hear this. I can’t fix something I don’t understand.”

  “You want to fix this?” she said, her expression softening.

  “Yes, I want to fix this.”

  Her shoulders fell away from her ears.

  “But I need to understand what you’re saying. I heard how you felt invisible in your family, you were approached by a playboy, and you got involved with a gang. Oh, and Karlos is here to kill you. Don’t you think that’s a little alarming?”

  She nodded.

  “Is he here in Singer Springs?”

  “I don’t know,” she whispered. “He doesn’t know where I live now. But, I…” She hesitated, her gaze skittering toward the window.

  “But, you, what?” he said.

  “I thought I saw someone outside the window when you were going down on me…when you asked me what was wrong.”

  He let out a snort. “Shit. Why didn’t you tell me? Do you think I’m so sex-crazed I can’t stop and check on danger when it’s around? Fuck, baby.”

  “I don’t know. I was scared. I thought I made it up,” she said.

  Jackson’s nostrils flared. “My logical mind is reeling. There are huge gaps in this story.”

  “Okay,” she said, through a noisy exhale. “So, I met Karlos. I knew he was coming onto me, but I was still flattered. He was handsome. Like movie-star handsome. Dressed impeccably. Had a gold watch on his wrist and lots of gold rings. I’d never dated anyone like that. If he was interested in me, then maybe I was a somebody, not a nobody.”

  He winced, hearing her words. Blaire Edwards was more than a somebody. She was amazing.

  “Okay, we’ve got the beginning,” he said. “Then what happened?”

  “Well, he took me and my friend, Rayna, out that night. We went to an incredible restaurant. It was this lavish evening.
He only focused on me, though. I felt bad for her. She’s no longer my friend, by the way—I stopped returning everyone’s calls after I escaped from Venezuela—but I felt bad that she was so ignored because I knew what that felt like. I tried to include her in the conversation, but Karlos would only glance at her. I was his prey.” She grimaced.

  He’d only heard one word. “You…escaped?”

  At that moment, he wanted to pull her close and shush away her confession, but he knew he needed to wait.

  She nodded, a few more tears trailing down her face. “Within an inch of my life. I was terrified living in Caracas. Every day was a new nightmare.”

  “You lived in Caracas?” All the pieces of this puzzle were scattered throughout his mind, not forming any kind of cohesive pattern.

  “Yes. For two and a half months. I saw…” She sucked in a breath. “I witnessed horrible things. Like a mother and her child being gunned down when they stepped from a medical clinic. Maybe Karlos’ gang thought they had medicine. One minute they were alive and talking, and the next minute…” She held up her hand like a gun. “Blam!” Her hand flew upward, like the kickback of a gun. “Their brains were plastered all over the side of the building.”

  Then, she shook her head over and over and over, as if even she couldn’t process what she’d said.

  He sure couldn’t process it. He still needed more facts.

  Her hands flew to her face.

  Any lingering coldness in his heart melted.

  He took her wrists and lowered them. “Blaire, honey. This story is skipping all around. How did we get from playboy Karlos wooing you to living in Caracas and witnessing brutal acts of murder? Let’s go in a logical sequence, all right?”

  She nodded and took a long, shuddering breath. Her expression flattened as if someone had drained all the color from her soul.

  “In retrospect, it seemed so practiced. He shows up. Wines and dines me. He gets my number and my address. I can’t believe I gave him my address. I never give out my address until I know someone.” She closed her eyes briefly and then resumed. “I head home. I didn’t hear from him for a few weeks, so I thought it was a fanciful moment in the mountains of Colorado.”