Chapter 20
CHAPTER TWENTY
Jackson
Fucking-A.
I want to wrap my hands around Ava’s delicate neck and strangle her right here, in front of everyone, including the fucking FBI. I swear to God, I was two seconds away from kicking Special Agent Silverman out on her ass when Ava waltzed in and fucked everything up.
“Nice to meet you,” Ava says, shaking the agent’s hand.
Oh, fuck no.
I turn to my cousin, Sean, who’s standing next to Silverman in his police uniform.
He wears two badges: one for Malibu PD and the other for the Burning Crown.
Silverman is smart, smarter than I gave her credit for.
She clearly used him to gain access to Rush House, knowing damn well that any other cop would’ve been turned away at the door.
“Sean,” I say, “Come on, man. What the hell is this? Shut this shit down.”
He slides a hard glare at Silverman, like this is the last thing he wants to be doing. “Would if I could, man. Trust.”
Christian steps forward, a blunt hanging from his lips. “I just texted John. He’s on his way over.”
I level a glare at Silverman, who has her sights set squarely on Ava like a predator sizing up wounded prey.
Violence stirs in my veins, stretching awake like a beast that’s been starved for far too long.
No one threatens what’s mine. Not cops, not rival societies, and sure as hell not some badge-wearing bitch who thinks she can waltz into this house and set her sights on my wife.
“Our lawyer is on his way,” I bite out. “And like I said, Ava is my wife now. Spousal privilege. She doesn’t have to talk.”
Silverman’s sharp gaze shifts to me. “Privilege only extends to any discussions we have about you, Mr. McKnight. But we’re actually here to talk about the rediscovered evidence that’s come to our attention—a bloody fingerprint on the knife that wasn’t tested three years ago.”
“Rediscovered evidence on a three-year-old case,” I muse. “That’s quite an oversight.”
It wasn’t an oversight, and we both know it. After my stepdad was killed, the Burning Crown’s Senior Council swooped in and did their thing. They threatened authorities, put pressure on political figures, bribed officials to cover shit up…
So, investigators not testing critical DNA evidence? That’s not surprising. What is surprising is that the DNA evidence wasn’t completely destroyed, which is what the Senior Council would have demanded. The fact that it didn’t happen? Heads will fucking roll.
I’m done waiting for my uncle to show up, so I walk over to the desk, pull the drawer open, and grab one of his business cards. I hand it to Silverman. “If you have any questions for me or my wife, you can direct them to our lawyer,” I say through clenched teeth, my jaw locked tight.
Silverman glances down at the card. “John McKnight. This is your uncle, is that right?”
“Yup,” I say, curt. Final.
“Hm. One uncle is a lawyer. Another uncle and a cousin are in the Malibu Police Department…” she says.
“Quite the family network you’ve got, Mr. McKnight.
” She presses her lips into a thin line and nods slowly, like she’s piecing something together.
“Almost like you’re expecting trouble…or trying to make sure trouble never sticks. ”
She’s closer to the mark than she knows.
I flash her a tight smile. “What can I say? We’re a law-abiding family.”
Silverman laughs under her breath, like, yeah, right.
Her gaze shifts again to Ava, who’s standing next to me, watching the exchange.
“Ava, are you here by choice?” she asks with a note of manufactured concern in her voice.
“If you’re not, if someone is forcing you, you can tell me. I can help you.”
My heart stops. The anger radiating off Ava is almost electric, like a live wire snapping between us.
I can feel it in the way she’s holding herself.
She’s coiled like a spring, ready to snap.
The need to hurt, to break, crawls through my veins.
Less than an hour ago, Ava made it clear just how much she hates me.
Christ, she could say anything right now.
And if she talks, she could destroy everything.
The silence stretches, and I can practically see the cogs in Ava’s brain rotating—Talk to Silverman. Don’t talk to Silverman. Which option will get me out of this faster?
Fuck. Me.
I did this to myself. I mean, fuck, I knew what I was asking—no, demanding—from Ava when I dragged her kicking and screaming back into my life. I knew she’d be desperate to return to her old life, but I told myself her anger would be worth the reward.
Now I’m not so sure. If Ava is desperate enough, and Silverman is giving her a “get out of Rush House free” card, then she might just spill everything.
Several tense seconds tick by before Ava pushes out a breath. “No, I’m good.” Her gaze flicks to me. “Thanks for the concern, though.”
Silverman doesn’t look convinced, but that overly polite smile returns to her face. “Around here, it seems like a lot of girls are forced into things they’d rather not do, so you can’t blame me for asking.” She motions to the leather sofa. “A quick chat wouldn’t hurt, would it?”
Ava pinches her bottom lip between her teeth and glances over at me, her eyes pleading for, I don’t know—Help?
Permission? Not sure, but it doesn’t matter, because right then, my uncle barrels into the study.
His short dark hair sticks up at odd angles, like he just woke up.
His white dress shirt is only half-tucked, one side escaping his tailored navy slacks.
My uncle’s gaze sweeps the room like he’s cataloging every threat. It lands briefly on Sean with the kind of squint that sizes up loyalty, followed by a curt nod of acknowledgment. Then he fixes Silverman with a glare that could draw blood. “What’s this about?” he barks.
“Let me guess, you’re the uncle/lawyer,” Silverman says with a self-satisfied smile, like she’s just aced a test that literally no one asked her to take.
“Mr. McKnight exercises his right to remain silent.”
“Actually, I’m here to talk to—” She glances down at the marriage certificate in her hand, “—Mrs. McKnight.”
John’s eyes widen, then dart to me. I can see the question on his face—What the fuck is she talking about? Yeah. I didn’t tell him about my plan to marry Ava, but I have my reasons for that. Like any good lawyer, he would have tried to talk me out of it, and that shit wasn’t happening.
“Regardless,” John says, recovering quickly. His gaze shifts back to Silverman. “You’ll need a subpoena if you want a conversation with anyone in this house.”
Silverman’s smile doesn’t waver. “We’re not here to arrest anyone,” she says smoothly. “We’re here to give Mrs. McKnight the opportunity to clarify the events surrounding Senator Davis’s death.”
I know John, and he’s a predator in a thousand-dollar suit. He’d sooner bite his own tongue off than let Silverman ask a single question without a court order.
“You’re trespassing,” he snarls. “Should we see what the courts have to say about you violating my client’s basic legal rights?”
“Okay. Okay. We’re leaving.” She hands the marriage certificate back to me, then removes a business card from her pocket and holds it out to Ava. “If you decide you want to talk, give me a call. I’ll be around for a few more days.”
I watch them file out. Silverman first, then Sean, trailing behind with an apologetic glance over his shoulder. The study door clicks shut, and suddenly the silence feels heavier than ever.
John levels me with a glare that could melt steel.
“Mrs. McKnight? Are you fucking kidding me, Jackson?” He snatches the marriage certificate out of my hand and reads it quickly.
“For fuck’s sake, this is actually legal.
” He tosses it onto the desk. “You didn’t think to give me a heads up that you were getting married? ”
I shrug. “What’s done is done.”
His eyes flick over Ava. “Has she even been initiated into the society?”
“She is right here,” Ava interrupts with that signature snark. “And apparently, yes, I have been initiated into this fucking shitshow.” She glares at me. “Against my will, I might add.”
I ignore her barbed comment.
“Is Silverman going to be a problem?” I ask my uncle.
“I’ll see what I can find out,” John says on the heels of a sigh. “In the meantime, keep your head down. They’ll be itching for any excuse to drag you into the police station. Smile at the wrong goddamn mailbox, and trust me, they’ll slap your ass with a summons so quick, your head will spin.”
“Jackson never smiles, so no worries there,” Christian says, smoke curling up from the corners of his mouth.
John tilts his head back in frustration. “I swear to God, sometimes it seems like you kids are determined to make my job as difficult as fucking possible…”
I exchange a look with Christian that says, Good thing he doesn’t know about the dude in the basement…
I shrug. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll be a goddamn saint.”
John glances at his phone and sighs. “It’s five in the fucking morning. I’m going back to bed.”
He’s halfway to the door when I catch up to him. “Hold up,” I say, stopping in front of him. “One last thing, I talked to my dad, and—”
“Let me guess,” John interrupts. “He wants something in exchange for his help.”
I drop my voice so no one else in the room can hear. “Ava was the only witness that morning—the only one who saw what happened to the Senator. He wants me to hand her over to save myself.”
John shakes his head, glancing over my shoulder at Ava. “Well, now that she’s a member and your wife, he can’t touch her. I’m guessing that was by design.”
Yeah, that’s what it looks like. Noble. Strategic. But the truth is uglier. I didn’t marry her just to protect her. That was a factor, sure. But the real truth? I would’ve found any justification to make her mine permanently.
When I don’t confirm or deny, John studies me for a long moment, his gaze sharp and calculating. “Just… don’t do anything without telling me first,” he says. “I mean it. I don’t want you taking a fucking piss without me knowing.”
“You got it.”
Then, without another word, he turns and walks out.
When the door snicks shut, Christian pushes off the desk and takes one last drag from his blunt.
“As much as I’ve enjoyed this absolute shit show, I need to find Wyn,” he says without further explanation, then strolls out after John, humming Darth Vader’s tune under his breath.
It’s just me and Ava now. She isn’t looking at me. She blinks down at the carpet, and my gaze is caught on her profile—on her long lashes, and full, pink lips. On the flush of her cheeks.
What is it about this girl that’s held me captive for three-fucking-years?
Her eyes flick up and meet mine. “Detective Silverman said they found new DNA evidence,” she says, finally breaking the silence. “Why would she want to talk to me about that?”
“No idea,” I answer, panic closing like a fist around my throat, and I never fucking panic. I’m usually in control, calling the shots, but lately, it feels like everything in my life has been spinning out of control.
Ava steps up to me. “Look, you’ve dragged me into this mess, and whether I like it or not, we’re in this together now, so the least you can do is tell me the truth.”
She’s close, so close I can smell her cherry-scented lip balm. She’s used it since high school. It’s such a small thing, but it hits me like a punch to the gut. How can someone smell exactly the same when everything else between us has gone to hell?
Unconsciously, I reach up and brush a strand of hair off her shoulder. “They’re just fishing,” I say. “Don’t worry, baby. I’ve got everything under control.”
And I cling to that lie, praying it’s true, because if the FBI uncovers the truth, it could cost us everything.