Jack (Members From Money Season 2, #148)

Chapter 1

Chapter

1

The glass—or rather a heavy

tumbler—almost found its mark. Fortunately for the target, it

stopped just an inch to the left and he considered himself lucky.

Watching from his place around the heavy

mahogany counter where he was polishing a set of brand-new glass

wares, Zachary wondered idly if he should abandon the task and

intervene. The poor sucker was not taking his feet and galloping out

the door but was making his way warily towards his sister, who was

lifting a heavy ashtray to use as artillery.

With a resigned sigh, he put the cloth down

and made his way to the far end of the counter, catching her hand as

she started to heft the crystal. And still the idiot stands there as

if caught in a spell.

Zach, as he was fondly called, had to admit

that it was not difficult to be ensnared by Zuri's beauty, and when

she was on a tear like she was now, she was magnificent. Her coffee

and cream skin glowed with moisture under the muted recessed light

and magnificent mahogany eyes flashed furiously.

"Enough." Gripping her slender

wrist, her brother wrestled the ash tray away and put it out of

harm's reach. Swinging his gaze to the fool cowering near the door,

he jerked his head. "Go away and don't come back."

"But—"

"If you're not gone in five seconds, I

am letting go of her." He hissed the warning, holding the

writhing hundred and ten pounds of furious woman against him.

"If she would just hear me out—"

he looked pleadingly at Zuri who all but snarled at him.

"I was in trouble and needed some

money—"

"You lying piece of crap! You stole

from me and the next call will be from my lawyer. I know where you

live, you piece of garbage, and I am going to gut you like the slimy

fish you are."

"Zuri—"

"Man, get the hell out." Zach was

becoming weary with the scene. He had work to do. The bar was quiet

now, but within the next hour, things would be rocking.

With one last hopeful look at the fiery

beauty, the man slunk out the door.

"You're hurting me." She shoved

at him and when he did not budge, was tempted to use her feet.

"Don't even think about it." His

golden-brown eyes twinkled with mirth as he read her correctly. "And

you're damn well paying for that glass and the others." Shaking

his head, he released her and stood there staring at the temper

rolling off her. He expected steam to be coming out of her ears. His

sister was known for her hot flash of temper and her big heart as

well as her beauty.

He knew her just as well as he knew

himself. They were twins and as close as two people could be without

wearing the same skin. In a few minutes, she would calm down and

dazzle the crowd that would be swarming inside shortly.

"Go to hell." She huffed out a

breath, already winding down. "That son of a bitch stole from

me."

"That son of a bitch is smitten and

stupid with it." Turning away from her, he went back to the

task. "And you're cleaning up the mess."

Glaring at him, she dragged off her apron

and folded it away. Even in her tantrum, she was as neat as a pin.

"I'll get the broom and I'll be in the

office." She swung around to look at him. "You should have

made me brain him."

"And spend my afternoon bailing you

out of the county jail." He shook his head. "I have too

much to do. The bar would have to be closed, and we would have lost—"

"Oh, bite me." With a flounce,

she marched towards the closet area to get the cleaning supplies and

had him grinning after her and shaking his head.

Putting away the set he had been working

on, he picked up another and decided that some classical music would

do the trick of calming her down. With that in mind, he worked the

sound system concealed behind a row of shelves and very soon, the

sound of Beethoven Symphony's No. 5 swelled and poured out of the

overhead speakers.

Picking up his rag, he only smiled as she

returned with dustpan and broom to sweep away glass and started

swaying to the swell of music.

"I am still mad at you." The task

finished, she came over and leaning on the counter, kissed him on the

lips.

"I know." Putting the rag down,

he tugged at the gold-tipped curl that had escaped the neat pile she

had put her hair in. "He's not worth your time."

"You're right." She sighed and

shook her head. "I certainly know how to pick them." She

admitted ruefully. "A broke ass moron who slipped my credit card

out while I went to the ladies. And stiffed me with the bill at the

restaurant." She shrugged philosophically. "What the hell

is wrong with me?"

"Nothing." Her brother told her

firmly, cupping a hand at her cheek. "One day you're going to

find a good man who deserves to be with you. Don't settle for less."

"You're right of course."

"Aren't I always?" His lips

curved into that devastating smile that always seemed to drive the

opposite sex crazy.

"Unfortunately, yes." Patting his

cheek, she eased off the counter. "I have work to do."

He watched her for a minute, before

resuming his duty. He was happy she was here with him. At first, he

had argued when she told him she was leaving the corporate world

behind and taking her place beside him.

"What the hell do you know about

running a bar?" he had raged.

"I am a quick learner, and I have been

part of that scene since we were children."

He had tried to dissuade her, first with

threats and then with pleas, but nothing had worked. She had packed

up her apartment in Queens, resigned her position at the very

lucrative law firm, where she worked as an administrator and came

home. That had been three years ago and she had proven herself to be

more than capable.

She was wonderful with the patrons and the

added bonus was her looks. She could charm a snake, and men

gravitated to her like bees to honey. Her temper was quick, like a

flash in a pan, but her smile made one want to grovel and do her

bidding.

She could handle herself with the unruly

patrons and knew how to draw a pint. She was an avid sports fan and

could get into it with anyone. She was often seen egging on a team or

shooting pool and winging darts with an enthusiastic patron.

She was also the best at keeping the books.

Zach had to fire his accountant of ten years, because the man had

been tucking away a few thousand here and there. He was now paying

for his damn crimes in county lockup. His sister had taken over the

books and now they were as clean as a whistle.

Her office was disorganized, which had

surprised him considering how neat she was in other areas. But she

convinced him that she knew where everything was, and she did.

She placed the orders and made certain they

never ran short. She was gold and he had no idea how he ever did

without her.

She was the one who introduced "beers,

chips and fish night" every Friday and it was a roaring success.

She had also introduced "family night" which had the men

bringing their entire family for a sit-down meal and friendly

competitions.

The bar had been in their family for four

generations and had always been a steady source of profit, merely

paying the bills and putting the roof over their heads. But over the

past three years, Bennett's Bar & Grill had started making

enormous profit, enough to have them thinking about setting up

another location.

They were well established in the area,

having been there for several decades. And they were a household

name. Their father had left them a legacy and they had managed to

turn that legacy into a very successful business. They both shared

the apartment upstairs and were comfortable enough to never get in

each other's way. The arrangement was perfect.

Or as close to perfect as can be when

sharing space with another person. They could talk to each other

about anything, and he was fiercely protective of her. Finishing the

task, he drew a pint of ale for himself and took it with him onto the

floor to check that everything was in readiness for the opening hour.

Inside her office, Zuri stood at the

threshold, looking at the crowded desk. Work, she decided would do

the trick to get that louse off her mind. It was not the stealing,

which of course was an outrage and an irritant. It was the fact that

she had thought he was worth her time.

The sex had not been that bad—it

could have been better, but she had tolerated it. God! Fisting her

hands, she slapped them on her forehead. Tolerated it. That's what it

boiled down to and it made her sound like a desperate woman—which

she was not, she mused grimly as she marched over to sit around the

desk.

It's just that her damn biological clock

was ticking away and driving her crazy. Her brother would not

understand, being a man and not having a uterus. He could be ninety

years old and still be able to impregnate a woman. She on the other

hand was quickly running out of time.

Huffing out a breath, she grabbed paper at

will and started to sort through invoices. She was going to have to

make a quick run at the bank. She wanted a child while she was still

able to be a mother.

Their household had consisted of just them

and their dad. Their mother had died giving birth to them and Errol

Bennett had tried his best to bring them up. He had barely managed it

and for most of the time, it had been her and Zach. They had taken

care of each other. Her brother had made certain they ate and that

she did her homework.

Leaning back against the chair, she closed

her eyes and breathed slowly. She owed him everything. He was her

lifeline, but she was yearning for a family of her own. Dammit!

Opening her eyes, she pushed towards the desk and got to work.

*****

"He doesn't love me." Millicent

watched helplessly as her grandson fought back the tears that

threatened to spill down his cheeks.

"Darling, that's not true—"

"He doesn't!" The petulant lips

firmed and pursed as the boy lunged to his feet. "You are always

making excuses for him. He's never been to any of my matches and he's

always working."

"He has responsibilities—"

She lapsed into silence when the boy

whirled to face her. He was being punished again, all because he had

skipped classes to go to a concert featuring his favorite band. The

prune-faced principal had called his father and as a result, he was

grounded for two weeks. His cell phone had been taken away and he was

not allowed to watch TV.

And the worst part was that his old man had

not railed at him. He had just given him that cold and unyielding

look out of chilly gray eyes. "If you want to piss away your

life, go right ahead. But you're going to school and getting an

education. What you do when you reach eighteen is your own damn

business. But while you're under my roof, you will abide by my rules.

Am I clear?"

"Yes sir." His tone had been

mutinous, and he wished he could have told him to piss off. But Jack

Hadley was not a man to trifle with. All he wanted was his father's

attention and that was not happening.

"He doesn't love me." He

repeated, going to the window and staring out at the spread of

well-manicured lawns and the blaze of flowers. It was the edge of

spring, with the brutal winter finally easing its grip and making way

for the season.

He did not see the beauty before him. He

had a suite of rooms that was befitting his position as son to a

multi-billionaire, but he would happily trade it for one kind word

from his father. A hug, a word of encouragement—anything.

A profound sadness descended on his thin

shoulders. His mother had not wanted anything to do with him and had

given up her rights as a parent. She had taken the money and gone her

own way, never reaching out. And his dad was too busy to even spend

time with him.

"Jason—"

"No." Turning to face his

grandmother, he squared his shoulders and took a breath. "It's

fine. I am fine. You don't have to be here monitoring me. I know he

told you to, but I am going to stay in my room and read a book or

something." He shrugged. "I am fine."

Millicent rose and could swear that she was

feeling every inch of her sixty-five years. She just stopped herself

from going to him and embracing him. He looked so defeated and she

could not stop the anger and frustration rising up inside her.

Jack refused to even entertain a discussion

with her regarding his own son. He was inaccessible, remote and cold.

And she could not blame him. His own life had been hell. His father

had put him through the wringer, and she had done nothing to stop it

from happening.

As a result, Jack had retreated behind an

armor that could not be pierced, and she had tried. And failed.

Forcing a smile, she turned towards the

door.

"I will send up something for you to

eat. You barely touched your supper."

Jason hunched his shoulders and shoved his

hands into the pockets of his faded denims. "I'm not hungry."

"You're a growing boy and you need to

eat." She stopped at the door, turning to look at him, an ache

rising up inside her.

There was no doubt that he was a Hadley. He

had the same clear-cut features, stubborn chin with the slight

indentation, somber gray eyes and thick brown hair, threaded through

with gold. And he had inherited the lofty height. Even at fourteen

years of age, he was tall and gangly, all angles and bones.

He was his father's son and that had been

evident as soon as that heartless woman had showed up at their

doorstep with the three-week-old baby, demanding her share of the

"fortune," as she termed it then.

Jack had been prepared to fight it, had

called his lawyers to deal with the situation, but it had been clear

to see that the child was his. A Hadley, through and through. And she

had taken on the responsibilities of bringing the child up and he had

let her.

She had been the one to hire a nanny and

supervised his upbringing. Jack stayed out of it and out of the

child's way, unless there was a discipline problem. He did not have a

bond with his son and that saddened her as she realized that history

was repeating itself. And she was helpless to stop it from happening.

Stepping out, she closed the doors behind

her and stood with her hands clasped in front of her. She had no idea

what to do.

*****

He buried himself in work. That was the

solution, had always been a panacea to him. When things were out of

his realm, he worked. He had a hell of a lot of responsibilities, and

he was damned good at what he does. What he was not good at, not even

adequate, was being a father. He had a lousy example and Jason—his

son had not been planned.

Now they were stuck with each other and the

boy was good at pissing him off.

"He's trying to get your attention."

His mother had told him quietly. Well, he was damned well getting it.

The idea had entered his mind to ship him off to an exclusive

boarding school, but the very

mention of it had sent his mother into a panic and tears.

Shoving the contract aside, he lunged to

his feet and walked swiftly over to the recessed cabinet. Touching

the button, he grabbed a bottle of Irish whiskey and poured a

generous amount. Taking it with him, he stood at the floor to ceiling

window to stare out at the immaculate grounds.

He had issued his ultimatum, made his

ruling and that was bloody that. The boy would pull his socks up and

stay in line or the consequences would be dire. He did not have time

for this. The new shopping mall in the heart of thriving downtown was

taking up his time. The apartment building in the same area geared

towards the young, hip young people was stalled for inspections by

the county. That was losing his company money. And on top of it all,

he had to deal with a rebellious teenager.

Dammit! He tossed back the drink and wanted

to toss the heavy glass straight into the fireplace. But he did not

tolerate exhibitions and was known for his cold temperament. He did

not believe in giving into tantrums. That had been drummed into him

by a man who had ice water running through his veins. His father had

been a cold son of a bitch and had passed that—hell, had

drummed it into his head.

"Emotions make you weak boy. And

vulnerable."

Finishing the drink, he strode over to his

desk. He had work to do. When the school had called, he had been in

the middle of some negotiations and it had pissed him off royally to

have to leave to deal with this nonsense.

Well, enough was enough. One more fall from

bloody grace and it was boarding school for the boy. Just one more.

*****

Jason sat on the edge of the bed and

refused to allow the tears from falling. He secretly loved his father

and feared him. Jack Hadley was a stranger to him, even after all

these years. The longing to have a relationship with the man consumed

him and was the propellant to do something to gain his attention, but

it always backfired.

The man did not rail at him. He never gets

physical, never puts his hands on him, but then again, he did not

have to. His tone alone could slice like a knife, cutting through

bones and touching the nerves. Sometimes he wondered if his father

had blood running through his veins. He had never seen him smile.

He was up early in the mornings and home

late at nights. They rarely had supper together. It was always him

and his grandmother.

He never asked about his schoolwork, never

came to a game. And conversely because of it, Jason did his best to

excel. He was an A student and was very good in sports—all of

it, because he was trying to impress someone who did not give a damn.

He had tried to find his mother this past

year and when he did, he had called her. She had not even known who

he was and as soon as he told her, she had told him that she had

signed an agreement never to be in touch. Or the agreed upon

settlement would be revoked.

It had horrified him that his own mother

had sold him without a qualm. It was then he had decided that he did

not care either. To hell with them. He would do as he damn well

please.

But alone in his sumptuous gold and blue

bedroom, he felt the loneliness and tears crowding him. He wanted his

father to love him. Would do anything for that to happen. He wanted

to be strong like him. And respected and feared. Was longing to hear

his father give him a hug.

He sniffed at the damn tears and rose. The

food had been sent up and not touched. He wasn't hungry. He was

pissed and mad at the world. He wanted to run away, but it would

break his grandmother's heart, and he had a sinking feeling that it

would not matter to the old man anyway.

So, he was stuck in this frigging palace.

And grounded. Prowling the length of the room, his feet sinking to

the ankles in the expensive and lush Aubusson carpet, he plotted and

schemed. He was going to find a way to make his old man sit up and

notice him, he vowed.