JACK: Las Vegas Bad Boys (10 page)

T
he roaring bikes
below send a wave of memories through me.

I steady myself with Jack’s arm, reaching for him, holding tight. Closing my eyes, I blink away my past, but it’s surfacing faster than I can stop it.

Me, forced to clean.

Me, forced to beg.

Me, forced to fuck.

My life on the compound was never easy, never good. There aren’t any memories that feel right, feel whole.

It was all shattered chaos. Strong men and submissive women. Angry guys and lost girls.

I wasn’t like the rest of them.

I was Daddy’s Little Girl, but what good did that do me, in the end?

In the end it wasn’t my father I hurt.

It was my mother.

And that makes me either a sinner or a saint.

Depends on the day.

I read the self-help books, desperate to find a way out of the past, a way to grieve, to let go, to heal. But it’s easier when the Brotherhood is three states away.

Not as easy when they’re rolling down the road, fifteen stories below, looking for me.

“Tess, what is going on?” Jack says, pulling me tight against him. I claw at his back, holding on so tight. My quaking heart beats so fast as it presses against Jack’s. And this is where I want to stay.

I want him to protect me, to be the man I always wanted and never knew I’d find. The man who won’t hurt me, because Jack Harris wouldn’t hurt a fly. The man who stayed with Ashley even though she was a witch, the man who will sign a ten-year contract because he wants to do right by his agent. The man who honors, protects, works hard, and knows how to commit.

He’s the man I need, the man I want.

He kisses my forehead. “You’ve got to talk, Tess.”

But what do I say? This is the moment I’ve been terrified of. This is the moment that will force me back to where I came from.

The moment that will force me from Jack’s arms, because once he knows he’ll never, ever look at me the same way again. He might not want to look at me at all.

“I can’t be here. They’re going to come after me, Jack.”

“Who?”

“The bikers. They’re my family. They’re the people who are looking for me ... who I knew would find me.”

I fall apart in another puddle of tears. Jack must realize the pain I’m in, the pain that seeing those motorcycles causes, because he kisses me hard on the mouth, shocking me with the passion he evokes even when I’m at my lowest.

“Then we have to go,” he says, without hesitation. “We have to get you somewhere safe.”

“You think they could get in here?” I ask. “Into your apartment?”

“You tell me, Tess. I don’t know these people, I don’t know why you’re running from them, what they might do. I just know you’re shaking; you’re terrified.”

I remember seeing caches of guns on the compound. I remember the look of hatred in the eyes of the men I lived with. They lived for vengeance.

And my mother’s blood is on my hands.

The woman my father loved above all else—certainly more than he loved me.

“They’re going to try to do one of two things,” I tell him. “Kill me, or kidnap me. And I honestly don’t know what would be worse.”

“Fuck this.” Jack grabs his phone, calls Kirby on speakerphone. “I need a plane. And a helicopter to my building. And, Kirby, I need it now. I’ll explain later.”

“Where are you going?” Kirby asks.

“Not now, damn it. It’s an emergency.”

“Is this about the girl?”

“Yes,” Jack says. “We’re going to my parents’. It’s the safest place I know.”

“Okay. Can you get to the top of the building securely?”

“The security guys are still here. They’ll be my backup.”

“Should I call the cops?” Kirby asks.

Jack looks at me. I shake my head wildly.

“No,” Jack says. “I’ll call you when we get to Washington.”

“You call me sooner than that,” Kirby insists. “I want an update when you get in the air. Understood?”

“Will do.” Jack ends the call. “I’m going to pack a bag. You don’t have anything, do you?”

“We’re really going to go, just like that?” I ask, still shocked that he’s manning up and taking care of me, of everything.

“Do we have a choice?” he asks.

“No.”

“Then yes, we’re going.”

He kisses me, harder this time. As if the kiss is promising something.

But I’m too scared to ask what the promise might be.

* * *

Her dark eyes tell me there’s a hell of a lot she isn’t saying, and that scares me. Fuck, there must be a reason she ran away, why she’s shaking, why she has transformed from a woman with bright eyes and a big smile into someone on the verge of collapse.

It doesn’t take much for me to come to a decision. I don’t have a show for a few weeks—and, damn it, even if I did this is more important. I’ve screwed Tess over with the article and then the fucking sex tape. She can’t go home to get her shit, can’t go to work. Can’t leave my sight.

I owe her this much.

And, damn, maybe I just want to be the hero, fucking wrap my arms around her and tell her I got this. Maybe I just want to be the man she needs.

Is wanting that so fucking bad?

“My parents live on a small island in Washington State,” I tell her. “You have to take a ferry to get there. No one will be able to hurt you, I swear.”

She swallows, wiping her tears, catching her breath.

“Thank you.”

“It’s nothing.”

“Shut up, Jack,” she says, tears in her eyes. “Right now, it’s everything.”

I pack a duffle bag, and take her hand. The security guys flank us as we take the stairs to the rooftop landing pad.

“I can’t believe your apartment has a landing pad,” Tess says, dazed.

The discrepancy between our lives surfaces again, but I know once she’s in my mom’s comfortable kitchen, fishing on my dad’s boat, she’ll feel at ease.

“Do you want to give us intel on the situation?” the head security guard asks as the copter lands.

I glance over at Tess, hoping she’ll say something so I don’t overshare.

She doesn’t speak; the question alone causes her eye to fill with tears once more. I hate seeing her emotional, but at the same time I’m getting a little frustrated that she won’t talk and tell me the reason this fucking posse is after her.

“It’s the bike gang that’s been cruising around the premises. They’re looking for Tess. I don’t know their intentions or how fast they want to move, but I need a detail following them as closely as possible.”

“We’re on it. Do you want to involve the police?”

“No,” Tess says emphatically. “Do not call the cops. Swear to me you won’t.”

The security guy raises his hands. “I’m just following orders.”

“For now, no,” I say. “Wait until you hear from me.” I guide Tess to the helicopter. The propellers rotate violently, sending Tess’s hair flying and my jacket flapping behind me.

Once we’re seated and buckled, the pilot takes off.

It’s so loud that neither of us speaks. Instead, we look out the windows, watching the motorcycle gang cruising the vicinity of my condo.

Tess is in trouble, and I need to know what kind. Her frozen face tells me it’s something bad.

And, damn it, I need to know what it is, so I can figure out how the fuck I’m supposed to protect her.

So I can figure out if I’m a fool for letting her into my goddamned life.

N
othing
about the trip is relaxing. From a terrifying helicopter ride, to a bumpy flight in a tiny plane, to the unspoken frustration emitting from Jack’s every comment ... I feel tense as hell.

“Did you call them?” I ask. “Do they know we’re coming?”

“My parents? No, I didn’t call them. I got you on a plane and got you the fuck out of Vegas, Tess. Calling them wasn’t really a priority.”

“Okay. God.” I take a deep breath. The private plane dropped us off at a tiny airport in the middle of an island, and now we’re waiting for a taxi. “Before we get there can we stop at a mall or something?”

Jack looks at me like I’m crazy. His eyebrows shoot up to his hairline.

“What?” I ask. “I need clean clothes and, like, a toothbrush.”

“We can find stuff at my parents.”

“I am not wearing your mother’s underwear.”

“There are no malls here, honey.”

“There’s got to be somewhere we can stop. Like a Target?”

“This island has a population of eight hundred.”

“Okay, then, is there some sort of general store?”

Jack nods his head slowly. “There
is
one option. And I can’t wait to see what sort of panties you find at Roscoe’s.” He smiles as a taxi arrives, and I feel him relax.

He holds the door for me, and I climb in. All I have in terms of luggage is my purse. Jack throws his duffel into the trunk.

“Hey, Lenny,” Jack says.

“The famous DJ has returned, after only a week away,” the driver smiles widely, taking me in a little too appraisingly.

Ignoring his long look, I turn to Jack.

“Can you take us to Roscoe’s before going to my parents’ place?” Jack asks.

“Sure thing, Mister Jack Harris,” Lenny answers from the front seat. “And I see you brought home your sweet thing.”

“This is Tess,” Jack says “Tess, Lenny is the one and only taxi driver on the island. He’s been doing this for as long as I remember.”

“Yep, yep, yep, since this boy was in diapers,” Lenny says, smiling in the rearview mirror at me. “Any friend of Jack is a friend of mine. Though these days Jack is a bit out of my league.”

“There are no leagues, Lenny,” Jack says.

“Well, your parents are the talk of the town. Got themselves a brand spankin’ new boat just a few weeks ago.”

Jack doesn’t comment, just nods politely. It’s weird seeing him outside of Vegas. His scruffy beard looks more appropriate here than in the casinos, but his eight-hundred-dollar jeans don’t mesh with Lenny’s Carhartt jacket and trucker cap.

I absorb Lenny’s words—a different league and a new boat. That, combined with the fact that we took a private plane to get here, reminds me that Jack’s world is
so
not my own.

Jack may say there is no such thing as leagues, but the divide between our worlds is large. I should probably just stay in Lenny’s taxi and let Jack go hang out with his parents.

Lenny drives us toward a very small town and parks outside Roscoe’s General Store.

“Stay here, Jack,” I tell him. “I honestly can’t deal with someone wanting your photograph, not knowing who might end up with it.”

He squeezes my knee. “No one on this island is going to sell my picture to a newspaper, Tess.”

“Just, please.” I shake my head; frustrated with the way he doesn’t seem to realize how uncomfortable I am right now. “Stay in the car and call your parents. Please.”

Lenny smiles. “Got to listen to the woman.”

I smile tightly, and push open the car door.

Walking inside, I grab a cart and look around for personal items. Roscoe’s is a gas station slash grocery slash hardware store.

I find a dusty rack of tee shirts, and they’re all screen-printed with bald eagles, ten-point bucks, or grizzly bears. Classy.

I find a few in size small and throw them in my cart. Digging around, I find a pair of overalls in my size, and a pack of men’s boxers that I figure will double as pajamas.

The pack of granny underwear feels like a coup, and I grab basic toiletries as I dart around.

“Hey, little lady, haven’t seen you around before.”

“Just visiting some friends,” I tell the cashier. I deposit my items on the counter, reading his nametag. This is Roscoe himself.

“Who might your friends be?” Roscoe asks. “Small town, we all know one another.”

“The Harrises.”

“Ohhh, fancy folks, them are.”

I hand Roscoe my debit card and he swipes it, then bags up my items.

“Thanks,” I tell him, the uneasiness growing in the pit of my stomach. I don’t do families, and especially not fancy ones. Turning back to Roscoe, I ask, “Um, how fancy are they?”

“The Harrises? Ohh, they’re the fanciest family on the island. Waterfront property, neither of them work. Have a famous son.” He leans across the counter, looking me over. “But you must know all this if you’re their friend.”

“Right. Well, I am. I’ve just never been to their place.”

“Me neither. Just rumors. That singer Ashley Fast used to come up here with their son, and the whole town would be in a titter.”

It makes perfect sense that Jack and his girlfriend would come here to visit his parents, and it just reminds me that Jack isn’t bringing me here because I’m his girlfriend; he’s bringing me here because ... well. I don’t really know.

He wanted to take me somewhere safe, and I feel pretty crappy to have tied him all up in my life.

“Oh, well, thanks again.” I leave the store and slide back into Lenny’s taxi.

“Get everything you needed?” Jack asks.

“Yeah. Did you talk to your parents?”

“No, I tried, but no one answered. They’re probably out on the boat.”

“Right. The boat.”

I have a sinking feeling this is going to be a disaster. I need normal people. A family I can relax around—which, to be honest, is nothing I’ve ever experienced before. Or, if not a normal family, then I need quiet, seclusion. A chance for me to get my head on straight.

Not fancy-pants people who will be nosy and judgey while driving a freaking yacht around. Eating lobsters and gorging on diamonds as parents of a world class DJ who has a helicopter pad on his freaking rooftop.

“You okay, Tess?” Jack asks.

“Why?” I shake out of my thoughts.

“I just wanted to see if you’re okay.”

“I’m fine, I promise,” I tell him sharply, knowing as I speak that my tone is undeserving. Sighing, I add, “I’m emotionally spent. I need a shower. Need to eat. Need to relax.”

“I’ll get a masseuse to the house, if you want? Mom has one come out every few days.”

“What?” I squint my eyes. “A massage every other day? I can’t even, Jack.”

Lenny pulls up to the house and grabs Jack’s bag. I carry my measly plastic sack, holding my possessions. Feeling like I couldn’t be arriving here in a less fashionable way.

After Jack pays him, we wave goodbye to Lenny.

Walking to the front door, my heart slows. Okay. This place isn’t a mansion. It’s actually ... quaint.

I take in the blooming hydrangea and lilac blossoms. The fragrant clematis climb along a wooden fence, and the walkway to the door is covered with moss and tiny white flowers. It isn’t the manicured garden I was expecting. This is a garden from a storybook.

The house itself is a two-story cottage, something built a hundred years ago, and Jack opens the unlocked door and lets himself in.

“Mom? Dad?” he calls, walking through a small foyer into a living room.

Large leather armchairs flank a fireplace; bookshelves cover the walls. Magazines fill a coffee table, but not my gossip rags. The yellow spine of National Geographic and the iconic cover of TIME stick out from the pile.

No one’s here, though. I follow Jack into a large kitchen, and the beautiful space has been renovated. But it isn’t granite and stainless steel. A large white enamel farm sink and butcher-block counters create a welcoming environment. A bright yellow Le Creuset Dutch oven sits on the stove. I watch Jack lift the lid.

A grin spreads across his face as he smells the pot. “Sunday roast.”

I can’t help but smile. My constricted heart softens, and those tears that don’t have any place here surface.

“What’s wrong now?” Jack asks, replacing the lid.

“I’ve been freaking out about coming here.”

“To my parents’?” Jack asks, pulling his head back in confusion. “Why? My parents are, like, the most down-to-earth people on the planet.”

“How would I know that?”

Jack shrugs. “I don’t know.”

“Well, Lenny was talking about their fancy new boat and Roscoe was telling me how they live on the water.”

“Yeah, but … I mean, I got my dad that boat last week because his old one died. He’s been driving around the Sound for the past twenty years in that one.”

“Oh. I just assumed.”

“Assumed what? That my parents were some elite millionaire parents of the one and only Jack Harris?”

“Something like that.” I shake my head, feeling stupid. “I just … I don’t do families, Jack. And Roscoe said you brought Ashley here.”

“Girl.” He sighs, walking toward me and setting his hands on my shoulders. “Listen, I did bring Ashley here. And the town is really small. And my parents are really well off. But they aren’t like people in Vegas. Fuck, they aren’t like me. They’re good people. The best kind. And, honestly, you need to trust me on this.”

“Okay. You’re right. I’m acting all whack-a-doodle.” I set my bag of clothes on the counter.

“Not true,” Jack says, wrapping his arms around my waist. “The day has been intense. And long. Besides, you can act however you want.”

He leans in and kisses me, not letting me run away from the feelings stirring inside. He’s calling everything out for what it is, and not scared to admit that this is complicated. He’s a man. The kind of man who knows how to take care of a woman. And, God, that is sexy as hell.

“I’ll explain everything once I’m fed and showered. I promise, Jack.”

“You don’t owe me anything, Tess.”

I kiss him back, feeling the stress melt away as his lips press against mine. Hell, I’m hungry—but right now, I’m hungry for him.

“So, your parents?” I ask him, a hand wrapped around his neck, the other reaching for the waistband of his jeans, plunging my hand into his pants. “Are they home?”