CHAPTER FOUR
CASH
Jackie’s block made Cash’s skin itch.
He had seen worse shit in North Philly. Still, the shit pissed him off.
That she lived here, that Max lived here.
That someone like Jackie, who had pulled elegance and magic out of thin air tonight, had to come home to a dilapidated row house on a trap block riddled with fiends.
Sure, the inside of her place was cozy and thoughtful, nothing like the block it sat on.
But the house was old and clearly needed repairs.
And even though she had people on the block who looked out for her, this was no place for a family.
Let alone a single mother and her son. Cassius knew Jackie could handle herself but that wasn’t the point.
The point was she shouldn’t have had to.
Half the block consisted of boarded-up rowhomes where fiends and dealers gathered.
Jackie lived on the end where people still occupied the houses, but even that side wasn’t much better.
The streetlights barely worked. The pavement was cracked.
Trash piled along the curb. Seeing it all made Cash angry.
He thought about Max and hated that he had to breathe this air—or sleep in a room where gunshots were not rare background noise.
The Amin-Rashid family-owned hundreds of residential properties throughout Philadelphia.
Cash had his own portfolio too. Moving Jackie somewhere safer would be nothing.
But knowing Jackie, she’d rather die than accept help she didn’t earn.
Cash glanced into the back seat. Max was still out cold, mouth open, chest rising steady.
His once-white button-down was now a road map of stains.
That boy had the whole party on his shirt, and maybe even a little mac and cheese near the collar.
The kid looked like he’d had the time of his life.
Jackie was spent though, she had knocked out before he even hit Broad Street.
Now she was leaned against the window, lips parted in sleep.
Peaceful. Her shoes were kicked off somewhere under the seat, her fingers curled loosely in her lap.
Her lashes looked too soft for someone who carried so much weight behind her eyes when she was awake.
Cash exhaled slowly. He thought about what she told him outside the venue.
About how he judged her without knowing the full story.
That stuck with him and got under his skin because that wasn’t him.
Cash was always strategic, disciplined, and intentional.
But when it came to Jackie? Everything that governed him slipped and for the first time in twenty-nine years, he felt out of control.
Cash knew all the reasons he shouldn’t want her.
He knew what she came with, and by definition Jackie Brown should’ve been off-limits.
Yet, he wanted her anyway. The Wraith eased to a stop in front of her house.
He let her sleep a moment longer, watching her, and committing the image to memory.
Eventually, he reached over and brushed her shoulder.
“Jack,” he said quietly, the nickname softer than he intended.
“Gimme the keys.” She stirred, eyes fluttering open. “Huh?”
“Your keys, mama. I gotta get y’all inside.” She didn’t argue. Just handed them over like muscle memory. Cash stepped out, moving around to the back first. He lifted Max easily, carrying him inside without waking him. He knew exactly where to go—what door, what room. He laid him down gently.
Max shifted, curled tighter, and kept snoring. When Cash finally returned, Jackie was knocked out for real this time. She wasn’t snoring, but her eyes were closed, and she was clearly rocked.
He opened the door, bent down, and slid one arm under her legs and lifted her smoothly.
She stirred, voice thick with sleep when she finally spoke, “Cassius… I can walk.” Cash liked the way his name sounded in her mouth.
She made it sound dangerous and warm at the same time.
“Go back to sleep,” he murmured. This time she didn’t fight him or question it.
Instead, she let him carry her inside like it was natural.
He set her down gently on the couch, careful not to wake her fully. But her eyes opened anyway.
“Thank you,” she whispered. Cash stood there, not ready to leave.
“You know I know somebody with a few houses for rent,” he said finally, voice low.
“If you looking.” Jackie sat up slowly, pulling pins from her hair, letting it fall around her shoulders. “How much?” she asked. “Cheap. Real cheap. Damn near free.” Jackie reached for her ashtray, lit the end of a half-joint, and took a slow pull. The faintest of a smile touched her lips.
“Would the owner happen to be a tall Muslim brother with braids—about six-four, maybe two hundred solid—with eyes too pretty for his own good?”
“Maybe,” he said unable to hide his grin. She exhaled smoke, gaze sharp now.
“You don’t like my house or something, Cassius?”
“I don’t like the block, Jackie. It’s a trap block and its not safe.”
“I don’t let my baby out there without me,” she said, defensive.
“It’s not safe for you either—”
“There you go,” she cut in. “Judging me.”
“Her voice stayed calm, but the weight behind it pressed against his chest.
“My house ain’t perfect,” she said softly. “Neither is my block. But right now, it’s home. At least the only home I have.” Cash stared at her before he spoke again.
“I’m not trying to change you, Jack. I just want y’all somewhere safe.”
“I get that,” she said as he just stood there watching her.
Smoke curled between them, slow and soft, but the air felt heavy with everything they weren’t saying.
Jackie leaned back on the couch, crossing one leg over the other, displaying more ease than before.
She took another pull of her joint but kept her eyes fixed on him.
“You gonna stand there all night?” she asked, her voice softer than it had been all night.
Cash’s jaw flexed because he should’ve been on the road by now.
Instead, his eyes drifted over her—bare feet on the hardwood, hair loose around her shoulders, that stubborn fire glowing under her exhaustion. “You look tired,” he said quietly. “I am,” Jackie admitted. “But it’s a good tired.” She smiled faintly. He nodded once but still didn’t move.
“Go on, Cassius,” she said again, quieter now, voice rough.
“You keep staring at me like that, I’m gonna forget you a married man.
” With that, their eyes held, and a single tear slid down her cheek, hot and uninvited.
Cash’s chest pulled at the sight. He tore his gaze away before clearing his throat.
“Come lock this door behind me,” he said, voice low.
He couldn’t look at her again because if he did, he might’ve done something reckless.
Jackie rose anyway, padding across the hardwood barefoot, following him to the door.
His hand was on the knob when something in him snapped.
Cash turned suddenly and closed the space between them in two strides.
His hands gripped her waist, pulling her to him, and before she could breathe, his mouth was on hers.
The kiss was hard and urgent, everything he’d been holding back spilling out at once.
Jackie melted into him, fists twisting in his shirt, the taste of smoke, salt, and need hitting him all at once.
It was rough, desperate, and over too quickly.
Cash pulled back, breath unsteady, eyes dark with everything he couldn’t say.
For a moment, neither of them moved. Their breaths tangled in the silence.
Then he spoke, voice low and ragged. “I’m not married yet.”
The words hung between them, heavier than the kiss.
Before she could answer, he turned away, jaw tight, and stepped into the night.
The door clicked shut behind him, leaving Cash on the outside with his back pressed to the wood, heart racing, chest heaving, and the shadow of her kiss still burning on his mouth.