Storm (Georgia Smoke #4)

• Six •

“If you need a real man to fuck, sugar, you know where to find me.”

Storm

It had taken longer than I had anticipated, but Marty had found a fingerprint on the tracker that I hadn’t put on Briar’s car. The fingerprint led me to some lowlife an hour from here, who talked real damn fast when I asked him who had hired him. Thatcher standing behind me, doing weird shit with his blade, had helped. He was the only one I trusted not to tell his father what I was doing.

“I’m guessing we can’t swing by the club after this,” Thatcher asked as we walked up the front steps to Jameson Chester’s house.

I shook my head without even glancing over at him. Thirsty was his favorite strip club in Atlanta. Sure, I appreciated his backup with this situation, but I wasn’t going to a damn titty bar, and he knew that. I wanted this done so I could get back to Briar and let her know this was over.

Reaching out, I rang the bell, then crossed my hands over my chest and waited. Sol Mercer’s Jaguar was parked out front. Clearly, she had never found out about Jameson’s … fuck, I didn’t want to even think about that. The idea that this bastard had touched Briar made me feel ballistic. I’d been sure to park the Escalade right beside the Jaguar. If Sol Mercer was here, then this would be over even faster. Jameson did not want his heiress fiancée to know he’d had an affair and started tracking Briar.

The door opened, and a lady with a tight bun on her head, dressed in a black dress with a white apron, greeted us.

How very proper of you, Jameson. You have your maid in a uniform. I wanted to roll my eyes.

“We’re here to see Jameson,” I informed her with a tilt of my cowboy hat as I stepped inside the house, not waiting for her to invite us inside.

She jumped back out of my way, looking flustered.

“I, uh … Mr. Chester is in a meeting,” she replied nervously.

“He’ll see us,” Thatcher told her, following me inside. “Be a sweetheart and lead the way to his office.”

Her eyes darted back and forth between the both of us as she twisted the front of her apron in her hands. “I don’t think—”

“You shouldn’t think,” Thatcher told her.

“Just take us to him,” I demanded.

When her gaze shot to the left toward a hallway, I knew that was the direction, but I wasn’t going to allow her to do something stupid, like call the police.

“Listen, Ms. …” I waited for her to give me a name.

“Abilene,” she whispered.

“Ms. Abilene, we came to see Jameson, and we don’t want to make this messy. You don’t want that either, I am sure. So, if you’ll kindly take us to him, we will have a little chat, then be on our way. It’s really simple.”

She nodded with wide eyes, then turned and headed in the direction she’d looked. We walked through the house, and I scanned for cameras as we followed the middle-aged maid. The place was pretentious and predictable. I doubted the artwork was all original. There was no way he had that kind of money on his walls with the financial strap he was currently in.

The expansive room with white furniture and red-brick flooring we entered had two large open doors that led outside. I saw the pool first and then the two people stretched out on a wide lounger. Thankfully, they were clothed, and I didn’t have to witness them fucking. I didn’t want to see Jameson’s white ass. The cast on his leg from the beating he’d taken from Thatcher was gone. I wondered if his ribs were still bothering him. I hoped so. The scar on his neck was red and puckered from where Thatcher had run his knife, hard enough to draw blood.

“Well, isn’t this pleasant?” Thatcher drawled.

Ms. Abilene stepped aside like she was going to leave us out there, and I reached out and grabbed her wrist.

“You’ll be staying right here,” I replied with a tight smile.

The woman looked ready to cry, and I did feel a little guilty over that. This wasn’t her fault. I’d send her a nice fruit basket later.

We were almost to the couple, oiled up and lying back in the sunshine, before Jameson opened his eyes and noticed us. The shocked expression was quickly replaced with fear as he shot up, his eyes shifting from Thatcher to me.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Chester,” Abilene stammered.

“No need to apologize. You had no choice, and Jameson knows that,” I assured her.

“What are you doing in my house?” Jameson asked defensively.

“Ah, come on, Jameson. You know why we are here. Don’t act as stupid as you look,” Thatcher said in a bored tone.

“I settled up with Stellan,” he said, shaking his head. “I’ll call him.”

“Don’t touch your phone if you want to keep your fingers,” I warned.

“What the hell, Jameson?!” Sol shouted angrily. “Daddy paid them off. What have you done now? Please tell me you didn’t borrow from them again.”

I barely glanced back at the olive-skinned brunette. She might as well be topless with the bathing suit she was wearing.

“I didn’t,” he said through clenched teeth, his eyes locked on me now.

“Then, why are they here?” she snapped angrily, grabbing a towel and wrapping it around her.

“I don’t know,” he bit out. “That’s what I am trying to figure out. If you would be quiet.”

She glared at him, then reached for her phone.

“Don’t touch it, Sol,” I said, causing her to spin around and look back at me.

She didn’t like being told what to do. The spoiled heiress was used to getting what she wanted.

“I don’t care who your daddy is.”

Her back stiffened, and she looked from me to Thatcher, but said nothing. I could see the defiance in her eyes, but I also knew she wasn’t going to do anything. I held out my hand for her phone. She hesitated, and then Thatcher cleared his throat, and her eyes darted to him. Her jaw clenched tight, but I could see the uneasy look come over her. She stepped forward and placed her phone in my hand.

Abilene was trembling beside me, and I did wish I wasn’t forced to hold on to her to keep her out here. She wasn’t as tough as Sol was. This was someone’s momma I was scaring the shit out of, and I could hear Maeme in my ear, scolding me for doing it.

I turned to look down at the older lady. “Ms. Abilene, if I let go of you, will you go sit right there and not move?” I asked her, pointing at a chair underneath an umbrella but in my direct view.

She nodded.

“Good,” I replied, releasing her.

She hurried over to the shade and sat down.

“Now,” I said, turning my attention back to Jameson, “you were told to stay away from Briar Landry.”

The instant fear in his eyes just pissed me off. I had to remain calm and not kill the fucker.

“I don’t know who or what you’re talking about,” he shot back at me, as if that was going to send me away.

“Even if I didn’t have the proof that you had a tracker and a wire on her car all the way in Miami, I’d know you were lying.”

Jameson opened his mouth to say something, but Thatcher stepped forward until he was right beside me. “Let’s not draw this shit out. I have things to do. You know who the fuck she is. If you want your fiancée to know the details, I’ll happily supply them.”

Jameson’s nostrils flared as sweat beaded on his forehead. If Sol found out about his affair, she’d have him killed herself. I wouldn’t have to do a damn thing.

I flicked my gaze over to Sol, who was now glaring at the back of Jameson’s head.

“Who the fuck is Briar Landry?!” she screeched.

“What do I have to do to get you both to leave?” Jameson asked as his breathing hitched up, and he looked physically ill.

“It’s simple. If you ever—and I mean, even on fucking accident—breathe the same air as Briar, I will kill you slowly. If you try hiring some other lowlife to track or hurt her, you will die. I’ll find out. I’ll know, and I’ll come for you.”

His Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat as he nodded. “Fine. I don’t care what the bitch does.”

My gun was in my hand and instantly pressed between his eyes as I scowled at the bastard.

“Bad choice of words. Very bad.” Thatcher’s voice was laced with amusement.

“OH MY GOD!” Sol cried out, and I unfortunately heard Ms. Abilene crying.

Jameson was trembling as his eyes stayed locked with mine. I wanted to kill him. Rip his heart out. But I wasn’t allowed to, and this way would be too good for him. I wanted him to suffer if I took his life.

“Never speak of her like that. Never speak of her again. Briar is mine.” I snarled the last word, and he blinked as those words settled on him. “Do you understand me? This is not a threat. It is a motherfucking promise.”

“Yes,” he replied in a hoarse voice, frozen and afraid to move.

“Good,” I said with a sadistic curl of my lips as I put my gun back in its holster.

I swung my gaze over to Abilene. “Sorry about that, ma’am,” I told her, then stepped back from Jameson. “If you’re clear, then we are done here. The next time, there won’t be any talking.”

“There won’t be a next time.” Jameson’s voice was harder now that he didn’t have a gun at his head. “Waste of—”

“That’s it, dumbass. Keep talking shit about her. He’s gonna splatter your brains all over Sol,” Thatcher said in a bored tone.

Jameson tensed and nodded his head. He’d suffer some, but not enough. Sol was about to rip him a new asshole. Not my problem.

“Think that’s about it then,” Thatcher said, then winked at Sol. “If you need a real man to fuck, sugar, you know where to find me.”

If I wasn’t strung so tight, I’d have laughed at Jameson’s expression. I threw Sol’s phone into the deepest end of the pool.

“We’ll see ourselves out,” I told Abilene, then turned to head back toward the house.

“Hope you’re wearing sunscreen,” Thatcher said. “I hear skin cancer is a real bitch.”

Rolling my eyes, I let out a deep breath. That was done. Jameson would leave Briar alone. I’d keep tabs on him for a while to be sure he never got close to her. No one was going to give her a reason to fear again.