Black Jack Read online

  A minute later, Mason and I got back on our bikes.

  He shook himself out. “I feel like his smell is stuck on me.”

  “Could be worse.”

  “How?”

  “You could be Tracy.”

  Mason paled and I laughed before opening up the throttle and peeling away from the storage facility.

  Chapter 15

  Samantha

  Janice caught my eye when I passed her table. “Sorry, darling, but I’m still waiting on my gin and tonic.”

  Shit. “Sorry.” Hers wasn’t the first order I’d forgotten this afternoon. I was all over the map, and people were beginning to notice. “I’ll get it for you right now.”

  “No rush,” Janice said with an easy smile.

  I hurried behind the bar to whip up her drink. While I was back there, Morgan came around and offered to take over.

  “Why don’t you go upstairs and get off your feet for a bit, Sam?” She scooped ice into a tall glass before pouring two ounces of gin. “We can handle things down here. It’s not that busy.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “You’re not,” she said, her worry thinly disguised by a smile that didn’t really touch her eyes. “Amber told me about last night. I know you don’t want to talk about it but there’s nothing wrong with taking a breather. Besides, I wouldn’t blame you if you secretly wanted to punch everyone in this room in the mouth for bailing when you know who showed up.”

  I grimaced.

  She wasn’t wrong.

  When Bates and his goons showed up last night and every customer filed out of the bar, I’d wanted to scream at them that they were all cowards. Because in my books, they were. But I couldn’t fault people for their fears or their own self-preservation. This was my bar. They didn’t have to fight for it. I did.

  And I would.

  “Maybe I will go upstairs for a bit and have a cup of tea.”

  Morgan smiled in earnest now. “Okay, good. We can hold the fort down here. You go ahead.”

  “If you get a rush, come get me.”

  She promised she would, but I knew she was lying. Morgan had been working with me for well over two years now, and she knew the ins and outs of this place just as well as she knew how to handle a busy night. Like me, she knew the secret was to make sure drinks were full. The kitchen could be delayed, but the bartenders couldn’t be. Liquor made everyone happy.

  I brought Janice her gin and tonic on my way to the back staircase.

  She gave me a pat on the back of my hand and pulled me closer to the table while her three female friends looked on. “We heard about last night. Are you okay, darling?”

  “I’m fine,” I said stiffly.

  “We wouldn’t blame you if you weren’t. That’s a scary thing.”

  I pulled my hand free of hers. “Yes, it was scary. But I’m fine. Morgan is going to serve you for the rest of the afternoon. I have to step away.”

  I could feel Janice and everyone else’s eyes on me as I climbed the back staircase. As I stepped over the four bottom steps, I thought about my time with Jackson yesterday afternoon and how I’d felt so safe and secure in that moment.

  Bates had stomped all that out of me when he showed up with threats.

  As soon as I let myself into my apartment, Toes jumped down from his perch by the window and hurried over to me. He wove through my legs and rubbed his cheeks against my calves. His purr rumbled in his tiny body.

  I bent over, scooped him up, and carried him over to the sofa. “What do you think, Toes? Am I being stupid holding on to this place? It’s just a building, after all.”

  Toes pushed his head up against my palm and closed his amber eyes.

  “You’re no help,” I sighed. “It’s a good thing you’re so cute.”

  Toes kept me company while I sipped a glass of wine. It took the edge off better than a cup of tea would. I tried to read a chapter of my book, but my thoughts wandered to my confrontation with Bates last night and I ended up reading the same line over and over again.

  Bates.

  The way he looked at me was burned into my memory. I could still feel the weight of that stare of his. He’d made me feel naked with that single blue eye of his. I wished whoever he’d gone toe to toe with in prison had finished him off.

  Then we never would have found ourselves in this mess in the first place, and Jackson’s brother would still be alive.

  Someone knocked on my door.

  I jumped, and my white wine sloshed over the rim of my glass and spilled all over Toes. My cat hopped off my lap with a dejected meow while I stood up and brushed his orange fur off my white shirt. I inched toward the door, my heart in my throat, and prayed like hell it wasn’t Bates back to settle the rest of his deal.

  When I opened the door a crack, I found Jackson on the threshold.

  His crooked smile eased my worries. “What are you doing up here?”

  “Nothing,” I lied.

  His smile ebbed away. “Why are you lying?”

  “I’m not lying.”

  “Morgan told me you were up here and that I should come talk to you. She said something was wrong.”

  Morgan, I’m going to have to remind you to keep your mouth shut.

  “I…” I trailed off. What good would it do to lie to Jackson? He’d find out sooner or later than Bates had been here last night. This town was a damn rumor mill. It would be better if he heard it from me. I stepped back and opened the door the rest of the way, inviting him in with a wave of my arm. “Bates showed up last night right before close.”

  Jackson brushed past me. “And you didn’t call me?”

  “I had my hands full.”

  He faced me with a tense jaw and stormy eyes. “What did he want?”

  “My bar.”

  “And?”

  “Information on you. I didn’t give it to him. I told him to get out and fuck off, and that he wasn’t going to get his hands on my bar.”

  “Sam,” he breathed in exasperation. He dragged a hand down his face and shook his head at me the way a disappointed parent might their young daughter.

  “Hey,” I said sternly, “I told you I can handle myself. I meant it. He’s been showing up on my doorstep for three years, trying to win me over, and it hasn’t worked yet. Why should last night be any different?”

  “He shouldn’t show up here at all,” Jackson growled.

  “Well, we’re well past what he should and shouldn’t do. He’s been trying to get in my pants since the day he got here but just because he says I should be his sidepiece doesn’t mean I’m going to be.”

  Jackson’s stormy look darkened, and he took a menacing step toward me that made me retreat to my front door. “Sidepiece?”

  Had I forgot to mention that part?

  “What the fuck is that supposed to mean, Sam? What else does he want from you?”

  I winced under the intensity of his stare and tried to wiggle out from between him and the door, but Jackson caught my wrist and jerked me up hard against him. I tried to pull away, but he held fast, his stare burning holes into me.

  “Tell me,” he said.

  I whimpered and squirmed, and when Jackson still didn’t relent, I stopped fighting him. “He wants me, Jack. He wants my bar, and he wants me. Okay?”

  It felt so vain saying it out loud like that. I wanted to disappear. My cheeks burned and my wrist ached in his vise grip. My eyes watered and I looked away—at anything but him—but Jackson released my wrist and cupped my face in his hands.

  “Samantha,” he said softly, “he can’t have you. Don’t you remember what I said yesterday?”

  My bottom lip trembled. I had to keep it together. I didn’t want Jackson to see me like this. Weak. Afraid. Timid. I wasn’t this girl. I was the woman who told Bates to piss off.

  Jackson pressed his forehead to mine. “He can’t have you because you’re mine.”

  The tension in my body evaporated like air out of a balloon. I closed my eyes and br
eathed in the smell of him, the leather, oil, and sandalwood. “I don’t think Bates cares if I’m yours or not. If he wants something, he takes it. I’m scared, Jack.”

  It was the first time I’d admitted such a thing to anyone. My words rang between us, and for a moment, I wished I could suck them back in and bury them deep inside me, never to see the light of day.

  Jackson pulled back but didn’t let his hands fall from my face. “Don’t worry. The boys and I are putting things into action. Bates isn’t going to be around much longer.”

  I searched his eyes. “It’s not going to be as easy as you think. It can’t be. Bates has too many connections. Too many resources. He’s going to put up a fight and I don’t want to be the reason you get hurt or worse.”

  “Sam.”

  “I mean it,” I said, taking his wrists and pushing his hands down. “What are you planning to do?”

  “It’s better you don’t know.” Jackson turned from me and paced to the window, where he stood with his back to me with the sun kissing his face. Toes came out from where he’d been licking himself under my side table and rubbed up against Jackson’s shin. Jackson hardly seemed to notice the cat at all. “The more you know, the more valuable you are to Bates. For now, it’s best to keep you out of things.”

  He looked far removed from the brute I knew he could be as he stood in the sunlight. It painted his hair such a light blond that it almost looked white.

  “I don’t accept that,” I said.

  Jackson looked over his shoulder at me and his face fell into shadow. “I don’t give a damn what you accept. I don’t want you getting involved. It’s for your own safety.”

  “I’ve been in danger since Bates first rolled into Reno,” I said. “I’m not going to sit on the sidelines now. I have a right to know. You can’t keep me in the dark.”

  “Like hell I can’t.”

  “Jackson,” I hissed, marching toward him with clenched fists, “I’m not some doe-eyed schoolgirl who needs protecting. After yesterday I thought you would trust me with the truth.”

  Jackson faced me and stormed forward, meeting me halfway between the door and the window. He grabbed my neck, spun me around, and shoved me down on the sofa. He dropped to a knee on the cushion between my thighs with his hand still on the base of my throat. “I don’t give a damn what you think you deserve, Samantha. Just because I fucked you doesn’t mean I owe you a damn thing.”

  I squirmed under him and clawed at his wrist. “Get off of me, you jackass!”

  He laughed.

  I saw red and thrashed wildly. “You are a pig, Jackson Black! Fuck you and your ego and your damn pride!”

  Jackson let me fight until I tired myself out. Then he released me and smiled down at me while I panted for breath beneath him. “I think I need to remind you just who the fuck you’re talking to.”

  Chapter 16

  Jackson

  Samantha needed to learn how to stay in line.

  Just who the fuck did she think I was? Some pompous prick who wouldn’t bat an eye at a woman willingly wanting to put herself in danger? She could spew as much bullshit as she wanted about what she deserved, but all she was entitled to from me was my protection.

  She wouldn’t have that if she threw herself in the line of fire like a fool.

  Samantha glared up at me, a deep crease between her black eyebrows, a fire burning in her eyes. She pushed at my chest with her hands and tried to bring her knees up to get more leverage, but I held her legs down until she relented with a frustrated groan.

  She closed her eyes and tears leaked out. “Damn you.”

  All the fight in her went out. Her hands fell from my chest so she could bury her face in them, as if she wanted to hide from me, and she tried to twist sideways.

  “Sam.”

  “Don’t. I don’t need more lectures. Or advice. Or manhandling,” she added, peeking fiercely between her fingers at me. “I was just fine before you showed up. Just fucking fine. And now… now it feels like the walls are caving in on me and I can’t catch my breath.”

  I didn’t say so, but I knew that feeling all too well.

  Serving in the military hadn’t been all sunshine and daisies. Training had nearly ruined me, but working in the field? That was a new level of beast unlike anything I’d ever experienced. Walking into my service, I thought I could handle whatever the job threw at me—I’d gotten used to being in the line of fire and courting danger ever since I first put on my Devil’s Luck jacket over a decade ago.

  I was naively ill prepared for the path my military career choice put me on.

  Syria nearly destroyed me.

  Gently, I put a hand on Samantha’s chest. Her heart thudded wildly against my palm and she watched me, curiosity stealing away some of her fury. “Take a deep breath with me,” I said.

  She frowned. “I don’t want to play games with you right now.”

  “It’s not a game.”

  She searched my eyes as if looking for a hint of a dupe or a joke, and when she found nothing, she resigned herself to take a deep inhale with me. We exhaled together, drew in again, and repeated the process until I felt her heartbeat begin to slow under my hand.

  “You’re safe right now,” I told her. “Right here, in this moment with me, you’re completely safe.”

  Her bottom lip trembled.

  “Hey,” I said, pressing a thumb to her lips to still the storm about to break open, “I’ve got you.”

  She swallowed hard. “What just happened to me?”

  I ran my hand up from her chest to tuck her hair behind her ears. Fuck, she was so beautiful, soft, and vulnerable. She looked at me like nobody ever had before, and I saw trust in her green eyes.

  “You almost had a panic attack,” I told her.

  “I don’t think so. I’ve never had one before.”

  “That doesn’t discount having one now.”

  She wiped moisture from her eyes with a trembling hand. “And just how do you happen to be an expert on the subject?”

  “I’ve seen my fair share of men losing their shit in combat.”

  She blinked. “Oh.”

  I straightened and made room for her to rise from the couch. She didn’t. She sat there staring up at me with a thousand unspoken questions rolling around in her head. I could practically hear them myself.

  Did you ever have a panic attack?

  What was combat like?

  How many men did you kill?

  How many men did you lose?

  Aside from the panic attack question, these were common questions, and none of them were questions I was keen on answering.

  Luckily, Samantha didn’t ask them. Instead, she got slowly to her feet to stand before me with a hand pressed over my heart. “I’m glad you’re not over there anymore,” she whispered.

  I thought of Syria’s heat. Of the smell of my own uniform and the men in my platoon—sweat and copper. I thought of the sound of rapid gunfire spraying in my ears and peppering the dry earth, spraying debris and dust clouds all over the place. I heard the screams of the enemy and my own men ringing in my ears, and I closed my eyes.

  Samantha’s hand on my chest curled into a fist in my shirt. “I’m glad you’re here with me.”

  I opened my eyes.

  She smiled. “Even when you’re pissing me off.”

  I cracked a wry grin and opened my mouth to speak.

  Samantha clamped a hand over my mouth. “Don’t you dare tell me I’m cute when I’m mad. I hate when men say that shit.” She eyed me, a warning flashing in her smile, before letting her hand fall from my mouth.

  “Cute isn’t the right word. You’re plain sexy when you’re mad.”

  “Jackson, you are absolutely insufferable, do you know that?” She rolled her eyes and pushed me away, but that smile still lingered in the corners of her mouth, and I seized my chance.

  I pulled her up against me and kissed her. Samantha softened in my arms and melted into me. She draped her arms
over my shoulders as I slid my hands up inside her shirt. Her skin was hot and smooth, and I followed the curve of her waist up over her ribs to her breasts. I reached behind her back and unclipped her bra.

  After that, I ripped all her clothes off like a savage.

  Samantha scolded me for stretching the seams of her shirt and bra, but she shut up when I pushed her back down on the couch and pulled my own shirt off. A hungry look came over her and she reached up to pull me down on top of her while I dug around in my jean pockets for a condom. When I found it, I placed it between her breasts and told her to keep it there until we needed it.

  She reached to move it aside.

  I slapped her hand away.

  “Ouch,” she hissed.

  “I told you to leave it.”

  “It’s going to fall off.”

  “Then stay still,” I growled as I yanked her jeans down her legs, followed by her bright pink panties.

  Samantha touched her body with delicate hands, running her fingers over her hips and breasts. She arched her back and put on a show for me, showing off the lean line down the middle of her stomach, the slight definition of abdominal muscles below her ribs, and the softer part of her belly around her navel. The condom stayed in place on her chest the whole time, even when she pressed her breasts together and spread her legs for me.

  Back in Syria, I never dreamed I’d live long enough to have a moment like this with a beautiful woman again.

  Amidst the gunfire, rage, and thousands of questions I asked myself in a day, wondering if this was really where I was supposed to be, I’d ached for this. All the men had. Samantha softened all my sharp edges whenever I was with her regardless of whether she knew it or not. I wanted to make her feel safe all so I could be with her and feel calm.

  Because I was never calm.

  My time overseas had conditioned me into being constantly on alert—constantly looking and ready for the next threat. It kept me and my platoon alive.

  But while I was busting my balls for them, my own little brother was losing his own war back home.

  In the end, there was no winning or losing.