Somebody's Watching Me (Haven House Book 3)

15. Jamison

Scrunching her wet hair with a towel, Jamison stared at the foggy image she created in the bathroom mirror. It was close to midnight, and exhaustion was nibbling away at her from the inside out.

Claudia had been found disoriented and wandering a Georgia county road in her pajamas. For the most part, she was unharmed and claimed two men had snuck into the house, surprising her as she left Madison’s room. The reports Liam received from police stated the men had injected her with something, and she blacked out, only to awaken in the back of a van. After begging them to let her go, the men began to argue until they ended up dumping her at a random gas station. As of an hour ago, Claudia was home safe.

Emily hadn’t been as lucky.

Grabbed by four strangers as she left her friends, she had been taken to a home in some suburb of Seattle. Jamison didn’t have much information, but from what she’d learned after eavesdropping on Liam’s conversations with his father, Izzy had made it to Seattle in record time, and tracked Emily’s location without much help. She led a raid on the home with local police like she was some sort of superwoman. Out of the four Zanmi members, one managed to flee, while the others were dead by their own hands.

Izzy was apparently staying in Seattle until Emily’s brother arrived to escort her home. Damon was already enroute, while their parents were trying to catch the first flight home.

Not long after the news of Emily’s rescue, Rowan returned with Simone and the twins.

“They said her shaking is an allergic reaction and should subside within twenty-four hours,” Rowan had informed everyone while the twins helped their mother to bed. “We were sent home with some epi-pens, but that’s about it.”

Selah was flying down in the morning with Lenora and their son, Xavier. The original plan had been for them to stay in Atlanta, but Selah wasn’t having it.

As the scope of what they were dealing with truly began to take shape, Samuel became antsy to get his girls home and secure. He and Evie left late in the afternoon, taking a fleet of security personnel and Liam’s promise that his man Holden would arrive soon.

“Shouldn’t Holden stay with Claudia?” Jamison had asked during one of the rare moments she and Liam were alone. “They might come back to try again.”

“Evie is the highest target,” Liam said, careful to keep his voice low so Samuel wouldn’t hear. “She and the girls need the most protection, and next to Izzy, I trust Holden the most.”

Next to Izzy.

It was ridiculous for her to be so consumed by the idea of him being with someone new, considering everything happening, but she couldn’t stop. Once her siblings left, and Simone finally went to sleep, Jamison snuck off to her room, claiming to need a shower.

And it wasn’t a lie. The feel of the robe and lingerie scraping her skin was driving her slowly insane, and hidden upstairs in the bathroom, Jamison peeled them off her body with such disgust that the bodice of her nightie accidentally ripped. The guilt over its destruction gnawed at her but was swiftly erased by the satisfying way the lace continued to tear in her hands.

Leaving the outfit in tatters on the bathroom floor, she stood under the hot water, allowing it to purge the remains of the last twenty-four hours. She scrubbed every scrape, every streak of dirt, focusing on the parts of her body Michael Sinclair touched. When there was nothing left to clean, her legs gave out, and she sat on the shower floor as the water continued to beat down upon her. Each second brought another memory, and soon, she was gasping through tears, reliving the entire ordeal.

Somewhere around the half-hour mark, long after the water had turned to arctic levels, a familiar male hand slid through the curtain to shut the water off. “Pajamas are on the bed, and your hairbrush and lavender lotion are on the nightstand.”

Part of her wished he would have slid the shower curtain aside and taken care of her. Old Liam—her Liam—would have done just that, unable to handle her tears for even a second.

But this new Liam left the bathroom without another word.

Getting out, she fought the urge to continue her cry fest, and nearly lost control again when walking into the bedroom to find her favorite pajamas laid out neatly. Liam hated the set, teasing her whenever she wore them. He claimed the round-eyed kittens covering the material were creepy.

But he had known she would want them and the comfort they brought.

Dressing quickly, she crawled onto the mattress and sat cross-legged to brush her hair. Rain pattered on the windows, and the soft glow from the bedside lamp made the world a little cozier, calming her as she worked through the tangles.

That is until the quiet click of her bedroom door opening had her tensing for a second.

“I need you here, Iz,” Liam said into his phone as he pushed open the door. Knightly scurried into the room with him, the beast finally showing his tail now that his favorite human had arrived. “The Houston team will care for Emily, and I expect you on the first flight.”

The door closed, and Liam tossed the duffle bag he was carrying onto the corner chair. “Stop arguing with me and get on the damn plane.”

With that, he hung up and slid the phone into his pocket. Knightly hopped onto the bed to meow loudly, wanting attention.

“Hey, old man. I’ve missed you, too.” Scratching the cat behind its ears, Liam looked her over. “Need me to do it?”

The question had her bottom lip trembling, and Jamison sucked it between her teeth. Him brushing her hair was a thing that started on their first vacation together when they rented a villa in Barbados. Liam had attempted to teach her to surf, even though her brothers had already tried, but the rip current had been wicked strong that day and pulled her into its clutches enough that she had to be rescued by him.

Later that night, in the aftermath, she’d been so distraught over the ordeal that she couldn’t finish brushing her freshly washed hair, and he finished the job. From then on, anytime she was upset, Liam’s first response was to brush her hair until she felt better.

And he never minded doing it. Most likely because it eventually led to great sex.

A gentle whisper of his lips along her neck would be all it would take to have her falling back against his chest. The excruciating attentiveness he exhibited, and the slow glide of his body moving in and out of hers were some of the most achingly tender moments in their relationship. Any other time, their sex life had a taste of violence to it. A race to the death, each chasing the high of fulfilling the other’s needs. Sweaty. Hot. Hard. The very definition of fucking.

But on the nights when he knew she needed to feel the connection they shared, he would begin with the simple act of brushing her hair.

Unable to look at him, she set the brush on the nightstand. “No, thank you.”

“Ask me, Jamison.”

Was it always going to be this hard? Would it always be so unbearable to have someone, who would eventually become a stranger, know her as intimately as he did?

“Are you sleeping with this Izzy person?”

The asshole grinned. “No.”

“Do you want to?”

Liam’s smile widened, his white teeth beaming down on her like a spotlight. “No.”

Remaining quiet, she traced the intricate pattern sewed into the bedspread. Maybe she wouldn’t hate this Izzy person after all.

“Did you know Claudia is pregnant?” He turned away to rummage through the duffel bag, and Knightly followed like a traitor. “From what Holden has learned, she took an at-home pregnancy test a few weeks ago, and it came up positive.”

The news punched her straight in the gut. She hadn’t known. Not that she spent much time with her cousins. Claudia lived her life away from the rest of them; however, Emily was a different story. As the secondary head of Fairweather’s PR department, Jamison constantly interacted with her, but never outside the office.

Then there was Damon, the youngest of Trevor’s kids and someone she avoided like the plague. Slated to take over the North Carolina division once his father retired, Damon was no stranger to company gossip, with most of the rumors being that he had his sights set on something bigger. Texas, maybe? Or the entire company if the more outlandish ones were true.

“I didn’t know.”

“Claudia can’t recall much, but when she woke up in the back of the van, she begged the men to let her go and blurted out she was pregnant.” Liam extracted a toiletry bag from the duffle he’d brought with him and turned to face her again. “That’s when they started arguing.”

“You think that means something?”

“Everything means something.”

He headed to the bathroom, and she popped up on her knees. “Where are you going?”

“To take a shower.”

“Why are you showering in here and not in the guest room where you’re sleeping?” The panic in her voice was sadly not over his assumption that he would automatically be staying in her room, but because she wanted him to do just that. “You’re a guest, and guests sleep in the guest rooms.”

Liam paused in the bathroom doorway. “I’m not staying in a guest room because I’m not a guest and haven’t been one since I showed up at Haven five years ago,” he said, that damn smirk returning to taunt her. “I’m sleeping with you like I always do.”

The bathroom door snapped shut, and she stared at it for a minute.

“Shit.”

In a flurry of sheets and blankets, Jamison buried herself under the covers. Knightly padded over, curling into a ball to sleep against her back. Good. After his betrayal earlier, the least he could do was protect her from being inadvertently cuddled.

Because she would hate being cuddled right now. Totally hate it.

She squeezed her eyes shut when he emerged a short time later. At least she’d had the sense to turn the other way to avoid the temptation to peek.

“Abe is staying in his cottage. Simone didn’t even fight him on it since so many guards are here.”

The teeth of his duffle bag zipper ripped apart, and she held her breath. If Liam ever slept in anything, it was boxers, and it currently sounded as if he were searching for clothes. So, did that mean he was standing mere feet from her butt ass naked?

“I talked to Selah. He said he isn’t staying long,” Liam continued, not buying her fake sleeping act. “Ben wants all his kids close, so I imagine this short stay won’t go over well.”

His voice moved around the room as the lamps clicked off one at a time. “Klausen is being helpful, but that’s probably because this shitstorm will look good in his file.”

With everything dark, he came to tower over her. “Jamison.”

Opening one eye, she thanked every God that ever existed. Her restraint only went so far and seeing him clad in boxers and a T-shirt had her breathing a sigh of relief.

“I know it’s hard having me this close.” As if looking at her caused too much pain, he lifted his face to the ceiling. “I know you don’t want me here.”

He sounded so broken, and she scrunched the blanket against her mouth so she wouldn’t respond. So, she wouldn’t tell him he was wrong.

“What happened last night was terrifying, and even though we’re not…us any longer, you can talk to me,” he promised quietly. “And I’m sorry. I should have told you I accepted the job offer from Samuel. It should have never been kept a secret.”

“Why did you do it?” Her voice sounded small. “You knew it would be hard for both of us.”

“If I have to resign myself to being a satellite living and breathing in your orbit,” his head dropped, eyes searching her curled up form, “then so be it. I can accept that just to make sure you’re safe.”

Beyond all sense of emotional preservation, she asked the question burning through her. “I know you said you were sleeping in here, but where exactly?”

He didn’t hesitate. “The chair. Unless you want me in the bed.”

Tugging the sheet over her head, she drew upon the coldness etched in her heart. It had sunk its claws into the useless organ six months ago, preparing her for moments like this. “You know where the spare blankets are.”

She listened as he settled down to sleep. Knightly eventually abandoned her to be with him, and she didn’t blame the butthead. Having Liam near had her relaxing so deeply that the next thing she knew, she was outside, standing on Haven’s porch.

The roar of chainsaws carried over the lawn, and Jamison squinted against the sun, raising a hand to block its unforgiving rays. Everything around her lay in ruins, with fallen trees and utter chaos covering the beautiful landscape.

Two men in the distance worked on a massive oak, cutting its dead body with chainsaws. From where she stood, Jamison could make out the face of one of the men.

“Ty!” She waved frantically. “Ty!”

“They can’t hear you.”

Ah, so it was to be one of those dreams.

Turning slowly around, Jamison smiled at the petite woman rocking leisurely in one of Haven’s porch chairs.

“They get going with those chainsaws and can’t hear anything,” the woman said. “Come sit with me for a minute. I hardly see any of your kind this close to the house. The haint usually keeps y’all away.”

The woman was beautiful, but that was her bias talking. Taking a hesitant step and then another, Jamison made her way to the front of the house.

“It’s a mess out there.”

The woman nodded, and Jamison tried not to stare as she lowered herself into a second rocking chair. It was amazing how her mind could combine all the tiny details she’d learned through the years to create such a detailed replica.

“What’s your name?” the woman asked.

“Jamison.”

“Oh, that’s pretty.” The woman swatted at her hair blowing about in the wind, the color of it matching Jamison’s almost perfectly. “I’ve never heard it used as a girl’s name.”

“It’s with an i and not an e.”

“Even better.”

The men’s laughter carried over, and the woman clucked her tongue. “We had a bad hurricane come through this morning, and yet, those two are acting like a couple of kids breaking out their tools when they saw that the trees needed sorting.” She stretched with a yawn. “But we’ll make Haven beautiful again.”

“You will.”

Sitting forward, the woman gave Jamison a thorough examination. “Does this place belong to you?”

“I’m sorry?”

The woman smiled, and it increased her beauty tenfold. “Are you a Fairweather?”

“Yes?”

“Do you live in the forest with the others?”

Jamison’s brow pinched with confusion. “I live in Texas.”

“Then what are you doing here?”

“Visiting?”

“You can do that?”

“Uh, yeah?”

Flopping back in her rocker, the woman mumbled to herself. “I learn something new every time.”

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” The woman stuck her hand out. “My name is Laura Jean, by the way.”

Jamison shook her dead mother’s hand. “I know who you are.”

Releasing a laugh, Laura Jean Eddins’ eyes sparkled with a mischievousness others would later describe as magical. Her mother was magic. That’s all Jamison ever knew.

“Word gets around amongst your kind, does it?”

“I guess?” Jamison rocked her chair in time with her mother’s. “Where is everyone else?”

An explosion of feet answered the question. A herd of children rushed through the front door and out onto the lawn. They were silent as they went, but once out in the grass, screams and laughter competed with the hum of chainsaws.

“Our brood,” Laura Jean said. “God help us.”

Jamison smiled at Evie and Selah sword fighting with some of the fallen limbs while the other children cheered.

“I want that.” Watching her brother and sister, Jamison had never been surer of the fact. “I want kids, and I’m not afraid.”

The soft smile on Laura Jean’s face faded. “Why would you be afraid?”

Jamison turned away from the chaos, noticing how even the driveway looked different without the barrier of hedges dividing the lawn and the gravel drive. That section of landscaping wouldn’t come into existence for years.

“Because things happen for a reason.” A tear fell, and she didn’t bother to wipe it away. This was a dream. It didn’t matter who saw her pain. “I chose to end things with the man I love, but I still want him. I’ll always want him.”

Taking her hand, Laura Jean continued to rock. “Keep talking. It will help.”

“We fell in love instantly. There wasn’t any hesitation. The moment we came together, we knew it was going to be a forever kind of thing.” More tears, and she let those go, too. “He’s my best friend and always listens to what I have to say like it’s important.”

Seeming to understand, Laura Jean nodded. “Sometimes being friends first makes the fall easier, but no less exhilarating.”

“We should have married years ago, but there was always something in our way. Lockdowns, catching up at work, and then his assignments.”

“Assignments?”

“He works–” Jamison shook her head. “He worked for the FBI but quit recently, claiming that his job cost him everything.”

“You,” her mother concluded. “It cost him you, didn’t it?”

“Not exactly.” Closing her eyes, she focused on the feel of her mother’s tiny hand. A weird detail someone must have supplied her with. “He was involved with cases where children were being sold into slavery, and it started to warp his brain.”

“God, how horrible.”

“I saw some of the stuff he was dealing with, and looking back, I should have known how it was affecting him. But I didn’t really take the blinders off until a few months before our wedding.”

“Please say you didn’t call it off right before the wedding.”

Jamison winced. A dream or not, the judgment in her mother’s voice still hit home.

“Six months before the wedding, he closed another missing person’s file and came home exhausted,” she explained. “A little girl. Four years old. Her mother had taken her to the movies, and before the show, stopped by the bathroom. When the mother came out of the stall, the girl was gone. No sound, no screams, just gone.”

Her mother’s fingers fluttered to her heart. “What happened?”

“Bad things.” Jamison couldn’t repeat them. It somehow seemed wrong to discuss it with someone who would lose her life and time with her own children in just four years. “But Liam found her.”

Laura Jean sighed, pale at the thought. “He came home broken over what they had done to that little girl.”

“If he had just talked to me. The whole not-having-kids thing had been in his head for a long time, but he never said it out loud until then, and I just lost it.”

She had done more than lose it. Liam’s response had been silence. Staring at her as she raged, he absorbed all that anger as she tore their life apart.

“I even had my wedding dress ready to go.”

“Oh, I adore wedding dresses!” Laura Jean clapped. “What does it look like?”

“Um, well.” How did one explain to their imaginary mother that they had picked out a dress with the sole intention of driving the groom into a sexual frenzy? “It’s a shorter design with a low neckline.”

Laura Jean wiggled her eyebrows. “Sounds scandalous.”

“Simone certainly thinks so.” Jamison cut her a sideways grin. “I thought she might have a heart attack right there in the fitting room when I tried it on the first time.”

The smile on Laura Jean’s face faltered. “You know SiSi?”

Her dad was the only one who occasionally called Simone that. A nickname belonging to another time and another person who no longer existed.

“No, I don’t know SiSi,” Jamison said honestly. “My Simone and your SiSi are not the same.”

Laura Jean studied her, and as she did, the air shimmered, drawing her in and out of focus. “It’s time for me to wake up.”

“Okay?”

Her mother leaned close, and Jamison did the same, bringing them nose to nose. It was almost like looking in a mirror.

“Can I offer you some advice?” Laura Jean asked. “I know we don’t know each other, but I can offer you a perspective most can’t.”

Jamison nodded, more than a little choked up. If the day hadn’t already been hard enough, now her deranged brain was trying to emotionally murder her with a dream. “Go ahead.”

“I was married to a wonderful man. He was kind, considerate, and my best friend, giving me the most precious gift I could ever ask for.” Laura Jean pointed at little Evie on the lawn beating the crap out of Selah with a stick. “Her.”

“Evie? Are you sure?” Jamison scrunched her nose in her sister’s direction. “I bet you’ll have more children one day, and they’ll be much better than that kid.”

“My kitten is more of a hellcat sometimes, but she’s a gift nonetheless.”

“If you say so.”

Her disbelief had Laura Jean giggling. “I promise you she is, and I wouldn’t trade being her mama for anything,” she said. “You see, my Albie isn’t with us anymore, and I’ve had to learn how to deal with life by myself. I have my friends. Without them, I would have gone off the deep end long ago.”

“You might have friends, but you’re also in love.” Jamison knew this story as well as anyone. The hurricane of ’95 was legendary. “I would think that helps too.”

Laura Jean placed a hand against her cheek. “Oh my God, am I that bad at hiding it?”

“You are.”

“I do love him,” her mother admitted. “I loved my husband. I truly did. But with Ben, it’s different. I don’t know how to describe the feeling. It’s like my soul is screaming to get out and merge with his.”

Understanding completely, Jamison helped her put it into words. “Like he’s the other half that makes you whole.”

“Yes, that’s exactly it.” Laura Jean’s head tilted to the side. “Is that how you feel about your man?”

“It is,” she confessed. “I swear I haven’t been able to breathe since he left.”

“You probably haven’t.”

The distortion around Laura Jean grew, and reaching out, she rubbed her knuckles along Jamison’s cheek. A motherly move she would never experience in real life.

“It might be time to compromise, Jamison with an i. You don’t want to spend your life missing pieces of yourself.”

“So, you think I should just give up my dream of having a family?”

“Compromise isn’t giving up.” The buzzing chainsaws in the distance ceased, the shouts of the children faded, and Laura Jean smiled one last time. “It’s showing the person you love that they’re worth the effort.”

A swirl of wind twisted through the porch, jingling the wind chimes and sweeping away her mother. Jamison continued to rock, enjoying the rare silence not often found at Haven House.

But the peace was short-lived. All at once, a batch of cicadas cried out. An odd thing to hear in the middle of the day.

Behind the bushes lining the porch, a lone woman walked along the path, her face obscured by the blooms. Jamison stood as she neared, the cicadas’ shouts reaching a deafening level.

“Hello?”

The new arrival stuck a hand in the air, waving with a wiggle of fingers over the bushes as she came closer. “Hello, Jamison.”

The stranger rounded the corner. A young woman dressed in a long white nightgown. She was lovely, with a sweet face and large brown eyes that reminded Jamison of a doll.

“Have we met?”

The cicadas quieted as the woman reached the bottom porch step. “In the forest.”

“I see.”

“Do you?”

Jamison’s gaze dropped to the woman’s bare feet. “I thought I was hallucinating.”

“Who’s to say you weren’t.”

“Are you good?” Jamison’s gaze rolled up to the haint blue ceilings when the woman climbed the stairs. “Or bad?”

Afternoon shadows played peekaboo across the porch, dancing over the woman’s features as she snorted out a laugh. “Are you a good witch or a bad witch?”

The hairs on the back of her neck tingled, and Jamison retreated slightly. “You’re a witch?”

The woman huffed, pausing on the final step to stand between the two entrance columns. “That’s just what Glinda asks Dorothy when she lands in Oz.”

“Are you telling me I’m in Oz?”

“No, you’re at Haven House,” the woman replied. “A home some of us killed to protect.”

Icey dread crystallized in Jamison’s chest. It was time to wake up. “Hello, Cecilia.”

“Please call me CeCe.”

“Are you a ghost?”

“What do you think?”

Jamison backed up a few more steps, and CeCe rolled her eyes. “Don’t be such a scaredy cat. Your sister is afraid of her own shadow but even she doesn’t run from me.”

That stopped her. “Evie?”

“Ask her.” CeCe touched one of the columns, the back of her hand sizzling under the haint blue. “She’ll tell you to listen.”

“What do you want to say?”

CeCe turned serious, her chest pumping. “They’re mine. The pretty words and the love you’ll hear in them don’t belong to you.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Mine!” CeCe screamed, her face hollowing, the beauty once there morphing into something monstrous. “Mine!”

Stumbling back, Jamison fell through the front door and slammed it shut. Monster or ghost, it didn’t matter. Nothing evil could enter Haven House.

Inside, the only sound was her ragged breathing, and thoroughly creeped out enough, she ran upstairs.

Making it to her room, she found Liam right where she left him.

Or maybe not.

No longer in the chair, he was on his usual side of the bed, facing away from her and softly releasing the tiny snores he claimed never to do.

Wanting this to end, she crawled in, giving him her back. She figured she would wake up in the real world if she went to sleep in her dream. That made sense, right?

Liam stirred behind her, the bed shifting as he rolled over. “Where did you go?”

His voice was full of sleep, which explained why his arm came around her. Big spoon to her little.

“Outside.”

His teeth nipped her earlobe as he cupped a breast. “I’ve missed you.”

Thinking it would be fine to indulge in some fun before waking, she wiggled her hips, and changed her clothes to the honeymoon lingerie with a thought. “Notice what I’m wearing?”

“Yes.” He rolled, taking her with him and bringing her to lay with her back to his chest. “Open for me.”

Securing her feet on the mattress, she spread her legs wide and reached between her thighs to grip him. “I need this, and so do you.”

He groaned in her ear when she began to pump, rubbing the tip of him back and forth over her center as she did. Crotchless panties were the best. “I will always need this.”

Rising to a sitting position, she sank down onto him until fully impaled, proving that this was indeed a dream. She loved every inch of him, but there was no way they could jump right into sex if this were real life.

With her head thrown back, she rode. God, how she had missed this—missed him to an unbearable degree.

“That’s my girl.” Gripping hips, he thrust upward, bouncing her hard. “Take what you need.”

Her body went lax as an orgasm loomed, its promise giving her goosebumps. It had been so long since she’d held this feeling of completeness.

Liam continued to thrust, not letting up. “Only come when I say.”

So, bossy.

He ruled in their bedroom, and she loved it, but in this dream, she wanted to take control.

Holding his shins, she met each upward strike. “Not this time.”

He sat up, snatching her by the throat to give it a rough squeeze. “If you want us to be a family, you have to do as you’re told.”

“What?”

The move wasn’t new, but something was different. His voice had changed, and fighting against the tightening vice around her neck, she dug her nails into his hand.

“Liam, stop!”

But he didn’t stop.

“You want a baby, don’t you?” Before she could tell him no, she was shoved forward and dragged up on all fours. “This is how we make a baby.”

“Stop.” The slap of his body into hers mixed with her pleas. “I don’t want this!”

“You want a family. This is how it works. This is how I give you what you want. Love. A baby. All of it. I’ll be the one to do it.”

His fingers twisted in her hair, yanking her head around to face him.

“Me,” Michael Sinclar grunted as he finished inside her. “Not Liam.”