Her tears spilled over. “I don’t understand.”
Jackson sighed. “I know you don’t.” He closed his eyes for a few breaths. “And I can’t explain it to you, and I know you can’t understand that either.”
She sniffed, wiping her fingers over her cheeks. He wanted to kiss every tear and tell her to just forget everything he just said, but he couldn’t.
“So…” she shrugged “…that’s it? I’m just supposed to leave and wait around for you on some leap of faith that tomorrow, next week, or months from now you’re going to be less ‘fucked up’ and ready to make me the same promise you made the other night in my bed?”
“Yes,” he whispered.
Ryn laughed, shaking her head. “Wow. That’s pretty bold, even for you. You’re asking a lot.”
“Yes.” His chin dipped toward his chest.
“I want to love you with that blind faith. I want to trust you with my heart … I really do. But I’m not that woman anymore. I’m not the victim. I’m the ‘fucking goddess’ you told me to be, and she would never give everything in exchange for nothing. So if you can’t tell me why you’re so messed up right now … if you can’t trust me with that, then I can’t wait for you.”
Jackson nodded.
In spite of what she’d just said, Ryn waited for more because she had to believe there was in fact more. When he didn’t say anything, she turned and walked to the door.
“Someday … I’m going to give you everything.”
She stopped with her back to him. “Sure, someday,” she whispered before walking away.
He flinched as she shut the door behind her. That emotional dagger through the heart was a new experience for him. Jackson concluded the pain was more extreme than he ever imagined, so the sooner he could get his shit together, the sooner he could get the girl back.
After pulling on his pants, he grabbed his phone. Five missed calls from McGraw.
“Way to answer your fucking phone.”
“Is it Jillian?” Jackson didn’t have time for his shit.
“She and her nearly-dead boyfriend are on their way back to Omaha on my jet.”
“G.A.I.L.’s jet. She already told me they were coming back. Why the five calls?”
McGraw laughed. Jackson could just see the look on the sick bastard’s face. “Well, if you thought Matthew Green at that rest stop was the most insane coincidence ever, I think I can beat that one.”
Jackson never thought Trigger being at the same rest stop as his sister was a coincidence, but he wasn’t going to argue that point with McGraw.
“There was a medical conference in Houston—a psychiatric conference.”
“Fuck,” Jackson whispered.
“My men were on it. They were together for less than sixty seconds before they took him away.”
“If you lay a—”
“Yeah, yeah … some ridiculous gates-of-hell threat from your sister has already been relayed to me. I never thought you liked the guy.”
“I don’t like any guy who fucks my sister. It’s a twin thing.”
McGraw didn’t respond.
“Where is he now?”
“In a secure location for debriefing.”
“Debriefing?”
“We just want to know what they talked about.”
“Then ask Jillian.”
“Oh we will … but we need to know if their stories match.”
“And then what?”
McGraw laughed. “Don’t act like you haven’t been through all of this. We’ll inform him that the lives of everyone he’s ever cared about are all at stake if he so much as breathes her name again. Then we’ll give him a little something to help him sleep while we deposit him safely back home. Now if you don’t have any more questions, I have an appointment with the good doctor, but don’t worry … you’ll be seeing me soon.”
*
Jackson texted Jillian to let her know he’d pick them up from the airport, but she informed him McGraw had already made arrangements. He suspected it was for the best anyway. Jillian had to be running on some unbelievable, not-of-this-world strength reserve. She always managed to make it to him, but he was her safety net and when she finally fell, it was usually with barely a breath of life left in her.
She texted a request before landing.
Jillian: I need U to clean AJ’s place before we get there – EVERYTHING!
Jackson: OK
The cleaning had nothing to do with mops and dust rags. She wanted everything removed that AJ could use to harm himself, right down to butter knives, forks, and chopsticks.
He watched from their kitchen window as the SUV pulled into AJ’s driveway. A suited man got out and typed in the garage code. The SUV pulled in as the door shut back down. They weren’t announcing their arrival to the neighborhood.
It was wrong on so many levels that he waited for her downstairs, hands taped, mouth guard in place. She needed to cry on his shoulder in a normal grieving way, but he knew she needed to make someone bleed more than anything. And the even more fucked-up part was his need to be that someone.