Chapter Forty-Four
This morning started with finding the report, continued with an unwanted visit, complete with a side of not-so-subtle threats from Harlan, and ended now. In Gram’s backyard. It was pretty sad this moment was the high point of my day.
I held the bolt cutter I bought this afternoon. The guy at the home improvement store looked concerned when I said I needed whatever tool would help me break a lock and that I needed the most powerful one he had. Because what did I know about heavy-duty versus regular when it came to bolt cutters? Better to go big and be safe.
I hadn’t had this much excitement since my DC neighbor carved I suck at sex into the side of her husband’s—soon to be ex-husband’s—car when she found out he was having an affair. I was there for the “after”
when the husband came home and saw it. He didn’t appreciate the decoration and called the police. The wife stumped the officers when she explained that her name was also on the title, so she could do whatever she wanted to the car. All in all, a very interesting three hours.
“When you said we should go out tonight, I thought you meant on a date.”
Jackson leaned against the shed. “Not that sneaking around Mags and Celia’s backyard isn’t fun, but we haven’t had dinner yet and you lured me here with the promise of a predinner muffin. Where’s the muffin?”
He looked more adorable than usual. He’d refused to wear all black because, and I quote, we’re not robbing the place. He really needed to work on his killjoy tendencies. After I promised to model the tie to his robe—without the robe—when we got back to the condo, he conceded to putting on jeans and a black sweater. Close enough.
“Admit it. You enjoy the drama.”
“I can see why you’d think so.”
He looked at the bolt cutter. “Are you ready to explain why you’re holding that?”
I’d tucked the tool away on the far side of the shed, near the old greenhouse, after I bought it. I’d waited until we got in the yard to pull it out. Jackson took the reveal surprisingly well. He didn’t initially ask what we were doing, but Jackson being Jackson, now he had questions.
I stuck to a simple answer. “To break the lock.”
It was just after eight. The sun had gone down about fifteen minutes ago. The porch light clicked on via timer just as Gram and Celia settled in to watch some sort of FBI show.
“There.”
I pointed behind him.
He stood up straight. Scanned the area. Frowned. “The shed?”
“It’s weird it has a lock, right?”
“No.”
That answer wasn’t helpful at all. Of course, I hadn’t exactly told him why we were here or given him a complete rundown of my conversation with his dad, then Gram. All Jackson knew was that I wanted to stop by to check on something, then we could have dinner.
“Gram said she keeps the poison in here. Or did. Honestly, I was too stunned by her admission to ask follow-up questions, so the timing isn’t clear.”
“When did she tell you this?”
“Earlier today.”
“Was the timing unclear because she plied you with a dessert?”
The amusement in his voice threatened to sidetrack me, but I stayed focused on the shed door. “Don’t just stand around looking adorable. Help me.”
He didn’t move. “One question. How are we going to find the poison?”
“With our eyes.”
Seemed obvious to me. “The shed is, what, six-by-eight? There won’t be many places to hide it.”
“Uh-huh.”
That tone. He doubted my plan and now he had me doing it, too. “Come on. How hard can this be? We’ll know it when we see it.”
“Do you think it will be in a jar that says ‘poison’?”
Kind of?
He sighed at me. It sounded like he’d been holding it in for a while. “There are different kinds of poison. Some—”
“Nope.”
He’d fully downshifted into lawyer mode. We didn’t have time for that. “As much as I’d love to hear you talk on this subject, let’s get moving. Those ladies are nosy. They could come out here at any time.”
“Second question.”
He held up two fingers.
I didn’t need the hand gestures. I also couldn’t afford this delay. “You said you had one.”
“Consider it the second part of my initial question.”
He talked fast enough to block any interruptions. “Why do we want to take the poison out of the locked shed, to the extent it’s even in there and we can identify it? Theoretically, isn’t it safest in there?”
We needed to bury it. Destroy it. Hide it away from the property. But mostly to keep it from Harlan. “Could we talk about this later?”
“We could until I saw your expression just now.”
Jackson folded his arms in front of him and sent out a strong we’re not doing anything until you talk vibe. “What happened?”
“Nothing.”
“Kasey.”
I debated engaging in the time-honored skill of ignoring a direct question, but Jackson would be all over that sort of subterfuge. “Fine. Harlan. He said some things.”
“When the hell was this?”
“He reiterated the same stuff that was in the report. I’m not girlfriend material and so on.”
“Are you serious?”
“Look, none of this is important.”
I tried to wave off the concerns but from the strained look on Jackson’s face I’d failed. “Your dad is on a mission that’s somehow spilled over into my work mess. If he comes over here, or convinces the ladies to listen to a pitch, he’ll be walking around, maybe with Micah and Brock, and we can’t risk them stumbling over the poison.”
“Are you saying or, more accurately, trying not to say Dad threatened you?”
Jackson seemed to be stuck on the point I’d tried to dance around. “Harlan talked about the business and how Gram and Celia depended on his goodwill for clients. He chose his words carefully, but you know how he is.”
Jackson took the bolt cutter out of my hand and set it on the ground. “Tell me exactly what he said.”
“The point is Gram and Celia won’t cave to your dad’s relentless lobbying unless they have no choice. He could make things miserable for them and force them into a position they can’t escape.”
Jackson swore under his breath. “That must have been a hell of a conversation.”
I’d killed off Jackson’s good mood. The flirty, cute side of him vanished in favor of the ticked-off side. I knew his frustration wasn’t aimed at me but that didn’t make being the person delivering the news any easier.
“It will all be fine.”
I’m not sure I believed that, but . . .
I refused to dwell on what this all meant for what was happening between me and Jackson and how it would play out. Right now, I was taking life one minute at a time, avoiding any talk of the future. To act in any other way would let my mind wander into dangerous territory and paralyze me. Lock me in a state of confusion and sadness that might be impossible to escape.
“You’re giving Dad too much credit. He’s not that powerful.”
Someone should tell Harlan that.
“And he’s way out of line. I’ve placated Dad on this political thing and clearly that was the wrong call.”
“It’s understandable. You wanted a relationship with your dad. That’s probably a healthy thing.”
Sweet, actually, but I didn’t have any experience on this particular topic. “I know you don’t want to lose contact.”
“That will be up to him.”
I didn’t like the sound of that. “What are you saying?”
Jackson brushed his fingertips over my arm. He took my hands and put them on his hips. Held me close. “What if I asked you to trust me?”
“I do trust you.”
Totally. That had never been a question.
“Then trust me to handle Dad.”
This time his fingers skimmed my cheek. The temptation to lean into his touch swept threw me. My body swayed and my self-control bobbled. “What if he—”
He leaned in and kissed me. Soft and quick. Sweet and inviting.
“Trust me.”
He whispered the plea against my lips.
“The poison—”
His hands slipped up my back and his fingers plunged into my hair. “Isn’t going anywhere tonight.”
My concentration blinked in and out. I struggled to hold on to my original plan because Harlan clearly didn’t intend to back down. “What if we can’t beat him?”
“You continue to underestimate my skills.”
No, I feared the potential blowback on Mags’ Desserts from the mess I’d created. “If I get even a hint of this going sideways, I’m breaking into the shed, stealing the poison, and hiding it.”
“I can and will beat him.”
He finally smiled. “But now is the time to concentrate on a more enjoyable topic.”
Really. So cute. “Eating muffins?”
He pretended to think about it. “I guess we can do that naked, too.”