Authors: Lisa Durkin
He smiled and blew out a long breath. “I’ll see what I can
do about that. I’ll get your door.” Looking resigned, he exited the vehicle and
walked around to open her door. “Let’s get you to your plane, Congresswoman.”
The following afternoon Jackson escorted his most recent
appointment to the door and said his goodbyes. He turned and rolled his eyes at
his assistant.
“Don’t ever let those people around me again. Crazy green
motherfuckers.” As he headed back toward the hallway, she slapped the daily
mail into his hands. “There are some invitations and stuff for you to go
through and here’s a package that was hand delivered.”
Jackson eyeballed the package. “I’ll be in my office,
Caroline. No calls or visitors.”
He shut and locked the door. After pulling the tab on the
secure package, he emptied the contents onto his conference table and sat down
in one of the leather seats. There were several thick manila file folders with
metal clasps. They were all marked “CLASSIFIED” in large black lettering across
the FBI seal on the front. Jackson didn’t hesitate to identify the first of the
four files.
He heard a ping on his iPhone and fished it out of his
pocket. It was a text from Agent Durand.
Trust package received. Expect
gratitude forthcoming
. He didn’t respond but instead opened the first of
the fat files. He was anxious to see what was in this report, hyper-alert and a
little nervous to actually read about the horrible details of what had happened
to Rory.
Two hours later, he sat perfectly still. His arms were
crossed over his chest, the index finger of his right hand rested on his lips
as he stared at the same spot on the white wall. He had been sitting in this
exact position for quite a while. His stomach was roiling. The nausea had set
in when he was about halfway through the information. But he sat still, unable
to move as he absorbed the information he had read, the pictures he had seen.
She had been raped and tortured by her own husband. And that
was probably not the worst of it. The bastard had made her watch as he had
murdered her father in front of her. And he wasn’t sure that had been the worst
of it either. Actually, it was pretty hard to choose from the events depicted
in these files what would be the worst to live through. It was extraordinarily
gruesome. He had rarely heard of, much less seen, such pictures. And that was
saying something because his career with the FBI had been mostly spent with
Special Crimes, so it wasn’t like he hadn’t seen his share of the horror that humans
could inflict. This guy made some of the serial killings he’d investigated look
like preschool.
His mind went back over the pictures in the files and he
immediately closed his eyes and ran his fingers over his forehead. There was so
much blood all over the inside of that farmhouse. The guy had been talented
with a knife. He punished and tormented her and it seemed she fought through
the entire ordeal. He wanted to vomit just thinking about it. The torture that
man had inflicted on his own wife, on Rory.
And she had been pregnant. And the bastard had ended that in
the worst kind of way. He didn’t know how she had lived through it physically.
Mentally he couldn’t imagine that kind of hell.
Not many people had any idea of what she had gone through in
that farmhouse in Ohio. Or had any idea how strong she must truly be to live
through something like this and remain sane, much less be the beautiful,
effective woman she was.
He had to stop thinking about it for a while. He needed to
get those images out of his head and focus on something else. Otherwise he was
going to lose it. This was bad, so much worse than he even imagined. No wonder
she had those panic attacks every other morning. He stood and began to repack
the files neatly into the mailer box they had arrived in. He grabbed his
leather briefcase and placed the box inside, zipping it firmly closed. He
wished he could cover the images in his head so easily. Actually, he wished she
weren’t in Ohio right now. He would like to be able to look at her and touch
her, if only to replace those violent images and photos of her terrified
expression and battered, bloody body with the warm vibrant woman he knew her to
be.
By Saturday evening, Rory was exhausted. Her Campaign Chief
Sabrina, on orders from Nicole, had run her through two charity events on
Friday night and a luncheon with the League of Women Voters earlier in the day.
This was after she had spent the morning at Cleveland City Hall arguing with
current Mayor Bruce Garrison over union issues. She shook her head as she
wondered again why that entitled bastard thought it was a good idea to give the
unions trouble while they were building the shipyards the Trojan deal was
dependent upon. The meeting had become heated and she had played hardball,
reminding the mayor what they stood to lose if strikes happened.
She was ready to spend some down time with her cousin and
the kids. As Rory stood in her living room, staring out at the dark waves
rolling in on the lake, she thought of Jackson. She remembered his kiss in the
car before she got on the plane, and his admission that he wanted her to stay
with him. She touched her lips and remembered his hands on her body. She closed
her eyes and leaned into the window. He certainly made her want.
She turned as she heard the front door open and headed down
the front hall. “Anybody home?” she heard Devon call out.
“How’s it going?” Rory asked as she hugged Devon and hung
her coat in the closet. Rory’s home was a typical lake house. Although they
were all different, built in different eras and of different styles and
materials, they were all structured with the living and entertainment areas at
the rear of the house to take advantage of the lake views. Rory’s home was not
the largest on Lake Road. There were two bedrooms on either side of the front
hall, each with a bathroom. The open kitchen was in the middle of the house
with a large wraparound great room. The best feature was the rear wall of the
house that was constructed entirely of windows so that the lake would always be
the focal point. The upper level was an open master suite and had the same rear
wall of windows.
“I brought wine.” Devon held up a bottle as they walked to
the kitchen.
“Where are the kids? I thought I’d get to spend some time
with them.”
“This is their dad’s weekend. Besides, I thought it would be
nice for us to spend some grown-up time.”
“Of course.” Rory squeezed her shoulders again. “But next
time I’m here I demand to see my little cousins. They’re not going to be this
little and cute forever.”
“I’m not so sure they are now.” They settled at the kitchen
bar and Rory gathered a bottle opener and glasses. “So how are things going in
the big leagues?”
“Okay. A lot of work, just like always. A lot of meetings
and maneuvering to make things happen.” She smiled as she poured the wine.
They fell into a pleasant conversation. The two women had
always been there for each other. Their fathers were brothers, and Devon
reminded Rory very much of her own father. She saw his steadfast, commonsense
personality in Devon. She was like a rock for Rory, and she’d always been able
to talk to Devon. After the shit had gone down with Aidan, Devon was the one,
with Landon’s help, to deal with all the funeral arrangements. She had also
been the one to liquidate the family farm once the authorities had released it.
During all of that, Devon was at Rory’s side and aided in her recovery.
They decided to go out for dinner since there was no food in
Rory’s house. Loading into Devon’s Tahoe, Rory spied her seventy-two-year-old
neighbor peering over the hedge. Mr. Lucas was the Grinch. He hated loud music,
didn’t like animals and kept track of the comings and goings of the entire
neighborhood just to make sure nobody was doing anything that looked like fun.
Rory swore under her breath and plastered a fake smile on her face.
“Hello, Mr. Lucas, how are you doing? Isn’t it kind of
chilly for you to be out in the night air?” She looked at Devon and rolled her
eyes.
“Well, Rory, I was just checking to see who was parking in
your drive, what with you out of town so much. Can’t be too careful these
days.” Rory was duly chastised.
“Well, yes, Mr. Lucas, I am spending time in DC serving in
the Congress, you know.” Rory knew this didn’t impress the curmudgeon at all.
“How is Mrs. Lucas feeling?”
“Fine, fine, we’re both doing just fine. We have a new
neighbor up the street. He has a couple of cats. Caught one relieving itself
down by the beach the other week. I called the city to give him a warning.”
“Oh, that’s a shame.” Rory looked at Devon and they both
tried to hide their laughter.
“You having some work done on the house, Rory? I noticed a
gentleman taking a look at the exterior last week. Seemed odd, seeing as it was
around dinner time. I tried to get over here to question him but by the time I
made it out from the dinner table he was already gone.”
Rory stiffened. “No, I’m not having any work done. Was it
somebody from the city?”
“Twasn’t anybody from the city. I know all those fellas.
Thought maybe you were thinking of replacing this old cedar siding for
something with more curb appeal. He toured all around the front but was mostly
in back. Well, I’ll keep an eye out for you, good evening.”
“Good evening.” Rory looked up at the front of the house,
wondering who the hell had been looking around. The hair on the back of her
neck stood up and she glanced at Devon. “What the hell?”
“Probably a roofer scoping you out. Let’s go eat.” It was
true that the houses on the lake were constantly in need of repair and thus
targeted by salesmen. After a moment or two in the car, Rory felt better about
it and as her phone rang she completely let it slip her mind.
“Hi,” she said quietly. She threw a look in Devon’s
direction and then looked out the passenger window. “How are you doing?”
“Fine. I wanted to call and check to see how your trip was
going.” Jackson’s voice was warm and made her smile. It was amazing how she was
both stimulated and relaxed at hearing his low, sexy voice.
“Good, I’m on my way to dinner with my cousin. What are you
up to tonight?”
“Just getting some work done. I’m having takeout from our
favorite Chinese place.” He sounded so delicious, she could imagine those
baby-blue eyes.
“You eat entirely too much Chinese food; you know this,
don’t you?”
“I find something I like and I stick with it, I guess.”
“That’s not what I hear,” Rory teased. She looked over at
Devon, who seemed very interested in the conversation. “Hey, look, I’m getting
ready to head into the restaurant, how about we talk later?”
“Sure, I just called to see how you were getting along in
the Buckeye State. Have a good dinner and we’ll talk later.” He paused. “I
think I miss you.”
Rory cracked up. “You think? Boy you really know how to lay
it on thick with the chicks, don’t you, Dorn?” She laughed and looked out the
window. Butterflies were taking over her stomach and she grinned widely. “I’ll
call you later.”
“Okay, have a good dinner.”
“Was that Jackson Dorn?” Devon asked with an excited smile
on her face.
“Yes, you’ve heard of him? Maybe from Nicole?” Rory had
guessed Devon would have been briefed by the busybody who ran her life.
“Well, a little. Let’s get a table.” They got out of the car
and went into the small pizza parlor with old-fashioned checkerboard
tablecloths and wooden booths. They took a booth on the far side of the room
and quickly ordered. As the waitress left, Devon steered the conversation back
to Rory.
“First of all, Nicole called to tell me she was expecting
again. I was concerned how that news made you feel.”
“I’m happy for her; you know that.”
“Yes, I know,” she said gently.
Rory stared at Devon for a moment and decided she didn’t
want to talk about it, so she changed the subject herself. “So what did Nicole
tell you about Jackson Dorn?”
“She said you’ve been seeing him, and I couldn’t be happier
for you, Ror. I mean, I’m surprised, but I’m very happy for you.”
“Well, I don’t know that I’m ‘seeing him’.” She made air
quotes.
“Well, what are you doing with him?” Devon’s brows wriggled
suggestively.
“Damn, I hang with some horny women. I think Nicole wants me
to fuck him just so she can hear the details.”
“Count me in too please. He is one hot man, Ror. I’ve seen
his pictures in magazines. Did you know he dated a Kennedy cousin?”
“Among others, believe me. He’s not exactly the settled-down
type. We’re really just friends. He lives in my building, across the hall from
me.”
“I also saw pictures of him online with that pop singer,
what is her name Kira, Kylie? Something. Anyway, he’s one nice piece of eye
candy. Is he fun?”
“I guess so. We’ve really just been working together. He’s
helped me a lot with the votes I need for the shipyard. I’m using him as an in
with the Appropriations Committee and the opposition. And I’m sure I’ll find
out what he’d like from me in return for the favors he’s done for me,” she
said.
“Mmmmm, I wouldn’t mind owing some favors to Jackson Dorn.
Have you fooled around with him?”
Rory looked at Devon and decided she should try for another
opinion on the matter. “Well, kind of. We’ve kissed a few times and hands have
wandered.”
“Niiiiiiice. How hard is that bod?”
“Oh it’s hard, everywhere, as a matter of fact.”
“Holy shit—I’m so jealous. You must nail that hard, my
cousin.”
“Seriously, what is it with the women in my life?” She
laughed and then sobered. “Honestly, Dev, I think I need your advice here.”
“I just gave you my advice: Nail that hard. As soon as you
can, and as often as you can. Best advice I can give you.” She gave Rory her
“I’m not shitting you” face.
“He scares me,” Rory whispered.
Devon leaned in. “Go on.”
“He makes me feel…out of control.”
“Out of control of what?”
“I don’t know. Out of control of my life I guess. Like I’m
walking on a ledge.”
“I see. He gets behind your walls. That must be very scary
knowing how high you’ve built them.” She was sincere, not sarcastic, hoping to
drive home the point.
Rory just stared at her.
“Listen, that all sounds fabulous if you ask me. I think
it’s about time you became willing to get involved with somebody again. I know
how scary it is after what you’ve been through. You retreated from life to
recover. But let me ask you this: What do you think is the worst that can
happen?”
“Jesus, I don’t know. I don’t even want to imagine.”
“Well, we’re talking about Jackson Dorn here. He’s not a
stranger, he’s been in the news here and there for years since he’s been in
Congress. He’s certainly not a criminal like Aidan.” Devon was gentle but
serious.
“Logically I understand that. It’s just…I don’t know, it
feels very dangerous to let myself go with him.”
“Why, because he’s not in your party?”
“Well, there is that, but mostly, I guess it’s because I’m
not sure I can keep from feeling something for him. And that can’t happen.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s not like we’ll end up together or anything.
It’s just a fuck to him and should be to me too. There’s never going to be
anything more.”
“Why?”
“Because there’s no future,” Rory shot back.
“Why?”
“You’re very monosyllabic.”
“Ror, what happened to you was not your fault. I’ve told you
this before. Your life is not over, and you deserve to try again. I know it’s
hard with the PTSD, but I don’t think that’s all this is. You hold yourself
responsible and punish yourself by closing down all aspects of life except your
work. I’ve watched you do it for three years now. I don’t mean to be harsh with
you, but it’s time to forgive yourself for whatever perceived thing you did to
deserve this and move on. You weren’t to blame; Aidan was. Your dad’s death was
not your fault.” She moved in closer and lowered her voice even further. “Your
baby’s death was not your fault.”
Rory stared at her. She really didn’t know how to respond to
that. She didn’t know how to feel hearing it. Devon had broached these topics
before, as had her therapist during that first year, but she still didn’t tread
that road well. They were quiet for a few minutes.
“I’ll take it under advisement,” Rory finally said.
Devon snorted. “Please do, Congresswoman. And while you’re
at it, try to stop thinking and have some damn fun for a change.” She wiggled
her brows again.
“He is so hot, isn’t he?” Rory smiled back.