Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 108165 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 541(@200wpm)___ 433(@250wpm)___ 361(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 108165 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 541(@200wpm)___ 433(@250wpm)___ 361(@300wpm)
Tears fill my mom’s eyes, and Dad hugs her while looking at me. It’s not anger; it’s pity.
I scrub my hands over my face. “You have no idea,” I mumble, “what I have done for this family.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
JACKSON
“Who did you find to touch your pee-pee?” Jessica asks Jackson the second she answers her phone.
“I’m compromised.” He sighs, holding the phone to his ear with one hand while stabbing his fingers through his hair with his other.
“Leave,” she says in a sharp tone.
“I can’t.”
“You know the protocol. Get out now.”
“Protocol? What protocol? There is no protocol. I’m the cleanup crew without an employer. No backup. No extraction team. Nothing. Either I get it done or die trying.”
“Or you walk away and let the chips fall where they may.”
Jackson shakes his head, pacing the garage. “I can’t let the chips fall where they may. I want to see my daughter and—”
“Then go see her. Be with her.”
“Then I’ll never see you again.”
“Fin de journée” (End of Day), Jessica whispers.
“No. The Days ended. They died. Ryn died. I’m ending this.”
“Why are you compromised?”
“I put four bullets in his tires.”
“Did someone see you?”
“No. But he’s going to be guarded like the damn president now.”
She sighs. “Then why did you put four bullets in his tires?”
Jackson continues to pace the garage, feeling jittery because he’s losing focus. And he’s losing focus because Frankie did, in fact, touch his pee-pee.
“The girl. You’re compromised because of a girl.”
Jackson bristles. “She’s a woman.”
“We’re all just girls at heart when it comes to love. Who’s the woman?”
He stops his pacing and stares at the ceiling. “The aunt of the boy next door who took his life.”
“Oh, the double suicide?”
“Correct. She was supposed to go through their things, sell the house, and go home. But she …”
“Met you. And you charmed her. Wait … no. That’s not possible. You … drugged her? No. That’s not your MO. Seriously, I need to know. Is she a witch? That’s the only explanation. I don’t care if she’s a Victoria’s Secret model or an heir to some throne. You have a type, and she tragically died.”
She did. Ryn was his type. But she died. And so did the man he was with her.
“She has a Ph.D.,” Jackson says.
“So? She’s smart. That’s not enough.”
“In music theory.”
Jessica withholds her comeback for a few extra seconds. “I’m listening …”
“I’ve never seen anyone play the piano like she does.”
“Well … damn,” Jessica whispers.
He doesn’t add the fact that she’s stubborn as hell, just like his sister.
“Anyway,” he massages his temples, “she’s seeking revenge on the Sanfords because she thinks their daughter is responsible for her nephew committing suicide.”
“Is she?”
“I don’t know. Maybe. How the hell am I supposed to know? And why should I give a shit?”
“Because you can’t think of her as collateral damage if something goes wrong while taking out Archer.”
“She’s going to get herself taken out, and it won’t have anything to do with me.”
“And you’re not going to feel inclined to protect her. Correct?”
It’s an unfair question for his sister to ask on a day that Frankie got on her knees for him.
“Just be on alert. Be smart,” he says.
She laughs. “Have you met my husband?”
“He’s a good man.”
“You’ve never thought that.”
Jackson nods to himself. As with all the women in his life, no man will ever be good enough for them. “Tell him hi.”
“You mean tell him to keep his dick out of your sister.”
“I think you tie him to your bed on the daily. I’m not blaming him for your issues.”
“Fuck you.”
“Love you too, Jess.” He grins, ending the call.
The following day, Jackson waits on a park bench across from Archer’s office. He’s intentionally reading a book close to an older woman and her dog. And occasionally, he glances at her and smiles, giving her little dog a scratch, which seems to please the lady. To anyone watching them, they’d assume he knows the lady.
When Archer emerges from the building, he’s flanked by security. Just as Jackson suspected, the tire incident made his job harder. When the motorcade pulls away from the curb, Jackson jogs to his car and follows Archer.
He stops for lunch at the same restaurant where Jackson first saw Frankie having lunch with him. Only this time, he’s meeting his wife for lunch. He’s not as affectionate toward her. No brushing his leg against hers, no resting his hand on hers. They couldn’t be more distant, and their hand gestures show they’re having a dispute. Before they finish their appetizer, Corinne Sanford throws her napkin at him, stands, and slings her handbag over her shoulder.
Archer leans back and glances around with a slight headshake. They’re probably arguing over Molly. Do they send her to a convent or hire her out for money since she’s proven she’ll spread her legs for anyone?