Jackson (The Love Family Series Book 8) (2 page)

Chapter 3

Scarlett moaned as her eyes opened. The florescent lights overhead blinded her. She squinted and turned her head. Everything in the room doubled, expanding in and out as if she was experiencing some bad acid trip.

“Scarlett.” Jackson’s voice penetrated the fog around her brain like a welcome wet dream.

Her tongue lay heavy in her mouth. She licked her dry lips. “My knight is here to rescue me.”

“They must have given you some good drugs.”

Scarlett chuckled, and her head lolled toward the voice. “Shh...” She giggled again, held her fingers up to her lips and poked her nose. She swiped her hand across her face, surprised that she couldn’t feel it. 

Scarlett held out her hand, straining to touch him. Her arm felt like five pounds of wet clothes, heavy and uncooperative. She plopped it down on the bed. “Bugs and muscles and…and…” Her mind went blank. “Chefs.” She lifted her arm and let it plop down again. “He lied.” 

Her head lolled to the side, and the darkness sucked her back under.

****

Scarlett opened her eyes and blinked several times. Her body shivered. Her sweat-soaked hair lay wet and pressed against her forehead. She turned toward the beeping machines and found Jackson in a chair across the room. A lazy smile stretched across his perfect lips. “Jackson?”

“Did you sleep well?”  Jackson’s grin grew as he grabbed a cup with a straw poking out and guided it toward her lips. She sucked the cold water down her throat, easing the ache.

Scarlett swiped her hand over her chin, catching a water drop. “Thank you, but why are you here?”

He rubbed the back of his neck and shrugged. “Alexis is your emergency contact. She and Cole are away on vacation in Florida and couldn’t get a flight out because of a hurricane, so she called me.”

Uh-uh, no way. Alexis could easily divert a hurricane using her ability. “You’re lying.”

“Now is that any way to treat your knight in shining armor?” His green eyes sparkled. A vague, fuzzy memory hovered just out of her grasp.

Her cheeks heated, but she refused to look away. “What?”

“Never mind. Alexis is trying to divert the category-five hurricane away from the state. She’s a little tied up, so she sent me instead.”

Scarlett tried to sit up. The room spun, and everything in the room shifted worse; it was as though she was experiencing a hangover without the benefits of a fun night out drinking. Fragmented images flashed in her mind. Rosie.

“Easy there, squirt; I don’t want you to fall over. You took a pretty good hit.”

“Where’s Rosie? Did she make it?” Scarlett pushed through the daze and sat up.

“Rosie who?” Jackson asked.

Scarlett’s body swayed and Jackson grabbed her. “Rosie McIntire. They shot her.”

Jackson eased her back onto the bed. “You aren’t making sense. How do you know Rosie, and who shot her?”

“Jackson.” Scarlett let out a long sigh. “She saved my life, and they shot her.”

He frowned, staring down at her. The laughter in his eyes was quickly replaced with a curious intensity.

Scarlett tried to sit up again. “Call someone. She needs help.” 

He slipped his phone out. “You’re safe, Scarlett. Try and relax while I make some calls and check on Rosie.”

The doctor walked into the room and Jackson slid his phone back into his pocket. If she could have gotten up, and knew whom to call, she would have done it herself.

“Is she going to live, Doc?”

“She hit her head pretty hard, but her abrasions and cuts will heal. We’d like to keep her overnight again to monitor her concussion.”

The doctor walked over to the bed. He flashed a light in her eyes and scrolled through the machines looking at previous vital signs. “It’s all looking good.” He patted her hand. “Try and get some rest. I’ll be back to check on you later.”

Rest? How could she rest while Rosie’s dead body lay in the alley? One of the machines beeped quicker. “Jackson, call Rosie.”

“Oh yeah, just relax.” Jackson pulled his phone out, and it rang. He glanced at her. “It’s Flynn.”

****

“Flynn, can I call you back? It’s not a good time.”

“No! Wait.” Urgency filled his voice. “Are you with Scarlett?”

“Yeah.” Jackson glanced at Scarlett’s pale face and fragile body. Cuts and bruises covered her arms and peeked out from her hospital gown. “She’s right here.”

“Good. Get her out of that damn hospital, now.”

“Dude, she looks like a truck ran over her. The doctor wants to keep her overnight.”

“I had a premonition, and men are coming to kill her. If you don’t leave in the next ten minutes, both of you are going to die.”

“You’re joking, right?”

“Would I joke about something like this? Quit wasting time and get your asses out of there.”

Jackson shoved the phone into his pocket and grabbed her bag of clothes. A shiver of warning sizzled down his spine. His weapon sat tucked away in the rental car, and if more than one guy came, he didn’t know if he could take them both, especially if they were carrying and he wasn’t. “We’ve got to go.”

“What’s wrong? What did Flynn say?” Her brows dipped.

“I’ll explain when we’re gone.” He yanked the machine plugs out of the wall and eased the needle from her arm, covering it with a bandage. He helped her sit up and slip into her jeans. He untied the gown and helped her into her shirt. He grabbed the bag of remaining personal items and handed it to her. His gaze darted to the door and back to her. “Hold this, and wait here while I find you a ride.” 

He should have set a damn timer. How much longer did they have? Crap. He hurried from the room and grabbed the wheelchair parked in the hallway. He pushed it back into the room and picked her up, settling her in the chair. They needed to disappear and fast. What in the heck had she got herself into? Whatever the problem, and whoever was coming, they weren’t sticking around to find out. Jackson pushed her wheelchair into the hallway and hurried toward the elevators, stabbing the call button several times.
Come on, already.

His phone vibrated in his pocket. Flynn’s name flashed on the screen. “Yeah.” 

“Not the elevator.”

“Seriously?” Jackson held the phone between his shoulder and his ear and pushed her chair faster toward the stairwell exit sign. Alexis owed him big time. He passed nurses and patients in the hall slowing his step, trying to give the impression of taking a quick stroll. They were out for a quick stroll all right, straight out of the kill zone.

“Take the stairs.” 

“I’m already ahead of you.”

“Move faster.” 

“Easier said than done. She can’t even walk.”

“Carry her,” he said. “When you get to the bottom floor, count to ten and then walk out.”

“Got it.” Jackson shoved the phone back into his pocket and opened the fire exit. He lifted Scarlett into his arms. She moaned and winced. “Sorry, Scarlett. I’m trying to be gentle. Put your arms around my neck.”

She nodded and wound her arms around his neck. She was like a wounded bird, tiny and fragile in his arm. He held her close to his chest and tried not to jostle her as he jogged down three flights of stairs.

“Why are you stopping?”

“I have to count to ten.” He counted in his head. He counted an extra five and stepped out into the lobby. People gave them funny stares as he carried her out the front doors. “She hates hospitals,” he murmured in passing, quickening his step until he reached the rental.

Jackson slipped her into the passenger seat and tried to buckle her in. She pushed his hands away. “I’ve got this.”

He jogged around to the other side and climbed into the driver’s seat. He cranked the ignition and pulled out into traffic. Where to? He had no idea where except as far away from the hospital as possible.

The congested streets overflowed with people getting off work. The road names were vaguely familiar since the last time he’d visited this town.

Scarlett closed her eyes five minutes into the drive. Her soft snores filled the cab. Jackson drove an hour outside of town. The sun disappeared behind the trees as he pulled into a motel.

Jackson had gotten a room, carried her inside, and eased her down onto the bed when her eyes opened again. “Where are we?”

“Safe.” He kissed her forehead and hovered over her, staring down. The kiss was a mere reflex. Her pale face and scared eyes twisted his stomach into knots. Yeah, he was going with that excuse. He righted his stance.

Scarlett tilted her head, and her brows dipped. From the look on her face, she questioned his little gesture just as much as he did, probably more so.

“Let me grab my bags and you can tell me all about the bugs, the muscles, the chefs, and what exactly happened to Rosie.”

Her brows dipped, as if trying to remember, as she eased up to sit against the headrest.

Jackson hurried to get his things and returned to find Scarlett hunched over, her head in her hands. Scarlett wasn’t a crier. She was one of the strongest women he knew. Whatever happened had really rocked her to the core. His night grew longer by the second with no rest in sight. He shook his head and cursed beneath his breath while dropping his bags on the floor. He sat beside her.

“Everything’s going to be okay.” He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and turned her into his chest. “Go ahead and let it all out.”

He sucked at comforting a crying female. Alexis would know what to say. Damn the hurricane. Scarlett grabbed a fistful of his shirt as she continued to cry. Her tears turned the fabric wet. Jackson kissed the side of her head. The scent of strawberries drifted to his nose. Only Scarlett could smell like fresh, sweet fruit after an accident. This was a test. It had to be. There was no other explanation for his predicament. He ran his hand over her hair. “It’s going to be okay. I’ll make it okay.”

“She’s dead.” Scarlett’s words were garbled, but Jackson understood incoherent female cry-talk thanks to the teen years with Alexis. 

“We’ll figure it out.” Jackson rubbed his hand down her arm, only stopping when he remembered the cuts from the windshield. “Are you hurting?”

Scarlett leaned out of the embrace. Her red nose shined and her cheeks were tear-stained. She swiped at her tears. “I’ve got a crushing headache, and my body feels like it got run over by a truck.”

“A taxi,” he said, trying to lighten the mood. “Are you ready to tell me what happened, or would you rather rest first?”

Scarlett sniffled and wiped her nose. She was a mess. Her wet hair stuck to her head, and her clothes were torn and ripped. He stilled his hands from checking her entire body. She needed protecting from everyone, including herself.

Jackson walked into the bathroom and got a damp rag for her face. He knelt down in front of her and ran the rag over her cheeks and forehead before handing it to her.

“Thanks.” She sniffled.

Scarlett took the rag from him, wiped her face, and proceeded to tell him exactly what had happened.

Jackson leaned back on his legs, speechless and clenching his teeth while listening to every sordid detail about how the notorious mob boss had ruined her story and lied about why he’d summoned her to meet, her connection to the Loves. His throat tightened as he processed her words. The mess that had almost killed Scarlett wasn’t hers. It was his and his family’s, all thanks to one of his old friends. How had that happened?

“She gave you a key?”

Scarlett nodded. “She said everything I needed to expose the truth was hidden in a locker.”

Jackson shook his head. “Give me the key. You aren’t writing this story.”

“What?” Her brows dipped. “Of course, I am. I have to.”

“No.” Jackson rose to stand over her. “No, you’re not. We don’t even know who killed Rosie. What do you think they’re going to do to you when they find you?”

Scarlett rose, standing toe-to-toe with Jackson. Her baby blue eyes narrowed, and her bottom lip stuck out. Adorable and sexy. At least the tears were gone. He could work with pissed off a hell of a lot better than scared.

After everything she’d been through, she still wouldn’t convince him of any reason good enough to let her do the damn story. He’d seen this look before, on his stubborn sister. He steeled himself, ready to fight. 

“If I don’t write this story, those men will never stop chasing me. She died trying to tell me what she knew. She died saving my life. I owe her.”

“You don’t owe Rosie or Salvatore a damn thing, least of all your life, Scarlett. Be reasonable.”

Her cheeks flushed as she stared at him with pain in her eyes.

“Scar, you’ve been hit by a taxi for crying out loud. You’re in no condition to figure this out. Let me. I’ll take you back to the Island where you’ll be safe, and I’ll figure it out for you. I can deal with dangerous people.”

“Salvatore and Rosie died trying to tell me this story. I have to do this.”