18. Los Angeles #2
The white noise of traffic above us added a buffer to help conceal our private conversation from the one the other couple returned to.
“But I still don’t understand why your parents are to blame.
” Except for, well, the obvious. Their decision not to mention the other children they left behind while saving their son.
Still, I couldn’t beat a dead dog by mentioning that again.
“You don’t get it, Jordyn. I blame them for always trying to make me forget. One of them succeeded! Made me forget you. I’m sure of it. So, while I’ve forgiven them, I want nothing to do with them.”
The way he spoke, I didn’t believe he had forgiven his family. If I knew my mom … that she’d sold me, and she came to me with tears in her eyes. Apologized. How would I approach the situation? I couldn’t answer that. “I’m sorry, Jamie, but I don’t believe you forgave them.”
“Okay, full disclosure: I’m starting the process over again.”
“Why?”
“The hit on my life! Those cops. Walsh tried to shoot me in the back.” Though he held Rebel closely, the comfort I suspected she usually gave as an emotional support animal didn’t penetrate. “Walsh wasn’t on the take from Aleksandr Chelomey. My mention of Chelomey elicited only shock from him.”
“Then who?”
“My father. He engages in illegal activities and has corrupt cops in his pocket. Plenty of them. So, I’m certain that beat cop felt comfortable lying about me having a weapon.”
I shook my head. This made zero sense. “You think your dad would try to kill us? Kill you”—at the rollercoaster of emotions and volume of my voice, I glanced across the fire and whispered—“his own son?”
Doubt threaded Jamie’s brows. He rested his elbows on his muscular thighs and dropped his head into his hands. “Jordyn, while I don’t level accusations, the facts point to him. My father doesn’t allow his emotions to reign, not like my mom.”
I could tell he struggled with the titles while his knee jittered.
“I broke her heart on Independence Day … before I rescued you. Probably broke it in the seven years I hadn’t said a word to them. Anyway, they found me. Initiated some sort of intervention. They thought I was still codependent on my medication. I dunno what they thought.”
“You ghosted them for years. When they finally caught up with you and reached out, you destroyed her last shred of hope?
“Yep. She couldn’t stop crying, and I couldn’t turn around. Hug her. Or any of the sort. I broke her. Now Big Brody will break me.” He lifted a shoulder. “He’ll try.”
This man had cut off parents who wished to be part of his life. How did I pick a side when my loyalty belonged to the man who saved me? Should I console him now, and we discuss how ridiculous he sounded later?
I could only console him in one way. A way he’d already rejected.
He doesn’t want me. Sure, the kisses we shared were to die for. But there was a line I’d jump over; he wouldn’t.
My hands scrubbed through my hair. What a stupid thought? An invasive thought. A lie. It contradicted every action Jamie had taken to get me out of sexual bondage. Let’s face it . I still equate love with sex.
Before I could speak, Jamie’s cell phone rang. Contrary to my expectations of him ignoring it, he rose to his feet and answered. “Mack.”
A sigh ran through me as I exited the city bus. Bone tired. We were in south Los Angeles. Dominguez Hills. Still hadn’t made it to Long Beach. I wilted against the bench at the bus stop.
“No. We gotta keep moving.”
“Nobody’s chasing us. We don’t have to hide inside a nasty fast-food place while waiting for the next bus to come.
” I’d thrown away my clothes after taking a birdbath in a graffiti sink.
Now, I was down to three sweatsuits. “It’s late.
If the bus doesn’t see us or have a drop-off, it might not stop. ”
“Jordyn, it’s just a short walk.” Jamie stood behind a stroller that we’d bought at a swap meet. Rebel lay hidden beneath a baby blanket, snoring softly.
“This isn’t Long Beach. Who’s gonna help us if not your parents?”
“We’ll help ourselves,” he grumbled. I sensed his frustration that I’d given his family a pass. If he could go back in time, see the conviction on his face when saying Clan MacKenzie would save us.
Well, he just needed to believe me. Heck, I believed him. I knew we’d get saved. They loved him. They wouldn’t have left me …
Then why didn’t I remember my innocence? Most girls remembered when they gave away their virginity—or when someone stripped it away from them. Why had I experienced my first period in captivity? Why hadn’t I graduated from high school?
Okay, so maybe his behavior resulted from the following: his family would save him. And another girl. Another little white girl. Ugh . That sounded so racist. Still, it made sense. Six-year-old Jamie might’ve told them about me, my color, and they didn’t care?
Jamie shouldered his backpack. “Get up. Now. Please.”
Alright . At least my backpack fit beneath the stroller seat, so I slunk after him down the street. In no time, we stopped in front of a fenced-off area. The entire block appeared occupied by some sort of distribution center. “Are we stealing a truck?”
“Something like that.”
“Okay?” I lengthened the word, questioningly.
Jamie strode toward a sign and flicked his wrist. Stiff and annoyed. Yep. He was big mad. I read the sign. MacKenzie Freight .
He chuckled softly.
“What’s so funny?”
“When my niece Mia—Leith’s daughter—was three, my family had to speak in code words. Say we’re moving organic food after she overheard a conversation about Fruit Loops.”
“Your family has a contract with cereal? Sweet. Let’s eat. I’m more of an Aunt Jamima girl. Although, I liked to stare at the pancake box and imagine Jamima was my auntie. It burned me up inside when they changed the name, though.”
“No food contracts. Someone was speaking in code, said Fruit Loops . Big mistake. I’m surprised how much you like breakfast but hated that fast-food place we went to. Anyway, they move merchandise. The kind that kills.”
I nodded, following him to a keypad. “So back to little Mia. She overheard this talk of Fruit Loops and went Post-al. Get it.”
“I get it. Post cereal. If I’m weird, you’re cheesy.” He keyed in a code.
“Excuse me.” I folded my arms. “I didn’t call you cheesy for the Mission Impossible reference earlier today. Now get back to the story, soldier.”
“Okay, captain.” Jamie stepped ahead of me, the corners of his mouth tugged up like I amused him. He didn’t actually believe I outranked him—not in this world—but it was cute that he played along.
Cute. Dangerous. Torture.
He started talking again, always effortlessly casual.
“Mia begged for a field trip. Wanted to come here. Someone saved the day by saying the family business sells organic Fruit Loops. The toddler gagged, rolled her eyes, and left my older—the others to close the deal. Anyway, Mia is a freshman in college now. Graduated a year early.”
The others ? Not his brothers? Was this why he became Jamie Mack? To place more distance between him and his brothers?
Jamie’s expression shifted. Warmth drained from his eyes. His shoulders settled into that familiar tension like his very bones remembered things he hadn’t said aloud.
With a confident stride and eyes locked on him, I sauntered past. Slow.
Deliberate. Imagining myself in iconic, red-bottomed heels—like a woman who owned every room she entered.
In contrast, my eyes conveyed a different narrative.
What’s wrong, Jamie? Of course, I didn’t mind asking.
This mouth never shut. Even so, something about the set of his jaw told me he’d only share if I didn’t push. At least not directly.
Jamie lifted the stroller over the metal gate track, careful not to disturb Rebel as if the sleeping dog could muffle the storm building between us. I followed him along a small lane, on one side a bare gravel lot. The other side a cinderblock garage.
I couldn’t take it anymore. I had questions. “You don’t look comfortable here.”
Jamie didn’t respond at first. Just readjusted the backpack strap, which was confirmation enough.
“You said ‘the others.’ Not your brothers.” How’d I become fiercely loyal to strangers? Ride or die , say what ?
“Honest to God, I’m not comfortable here,” he said. “Let’s just get in. Grab a set of wheels. The sooner we’re in and get out, the sooner we can figure out how to deal with Chelomey.”
I sighed. So matter of fact. Always moving. Always mission-first. I wanted to scream. “You think Aleksandr’s still after us?” Yeah . Dumb question . I sighed. “After the day we had, it felt like our home burned down last summer. And I can’t believe he’s back after all this time.”
“I get what you mean.” Jamie approached a door and pulled his backpack from off his shoulder.
As he sifted through keys—man, he had a lot of keys—he groaned.
“Almost had Chelomey in my crosshairs in Tarzana Hills.” He turned a key into the lock, and it gave a deafening click.
“I’ve gotta neutralize that threat for good. Then we get to go home.”
As he held this door open for me, I stared at him. He reached inside and flicked on the lights as if he believed the darkness had prevented my movement. Sorrow laced into my tone. “Our home is gone, Jamie.”
He looked back at me—and I could’ve drowned in that look.
Not anger. Not annoyance at what I’d said.
Just understanding. And something deeper.
Jamie pushed the stroller inside and stepped forward, eliminating the distance between us.
All the tension and confusion melted away, leaving only one thing: hot-furious desire.
“You remember when I first told you we were going home? We’d just gotten reacquainted?” Jamie spoke. Smooth, deep, low, soft, as if he meant to heal me with his voice. “Of course, that Siberian Laika had scared you.” His arms came around me. And I leaned into him before I could stop myself.
Images from that night, a night of freedom from enslavement, danced in my head. His voice had sounded like a dream. His eyes held the same smolder while he now crushed me to his chest, telling me he remembered every detail. “Of course I remember,” I murmured. “Those dogs scared me half to death.”
He chuckled low, husky. “When I told you we were going home, Jordyn, I didn’t mean a place.” The vow in his tone carried every word he’d declared. Everything about him was a truth I could believe in.
“What did you mean?” I’d gone breathless in his powerful embrace as my cheek planted against his chest. A strong, steady heartbeat made me want my heartbeat to match his. Had to be crazy. This had to be crazy.
This had to be … love .
“Unfortunately, JorJor. I can only explain it in certain ways. Words don’t carry enough weight. Actions do.” Jamie dropped his lips on the crown of my head. He then captured my mouth with his own in a kiss that wasn’t hungry. Frantic. Or lustful.
But intentional. A kiss that told me he was right here. That he would always be. A kiss that claimed all my inhibitions and me right along with it. I lost myself in the feel of his powerful arms wrapped around me. This man had confronted darkness, face-to-face, and refused to bow.
Desire pulsed through my veins, and the taste of him left me dizzy. I rose onto my toes for more. And there it was again—that ache.
The want.
The way my body remembered being used and twisted that memory into craving something I didn’t even understand anymore. The pull in my gut whispered, You need more.
Jamie kissed me again. I opened for him. Let him in. But even as he held me like I was something sacred, I felt a war inside of me. Because he wasn’t chasing lust or feeding hunger.
He was steady.
Too steady.
And that terrified me.
Was this enough for him? Was I enough?
Or worse—was I too much because this wouldn’t always be … enough for me?
“I need you, Jamie,” I whispered. Having been used by men for their own selfish pleasure and hating the entire species since I could remember, I was confused as to why I craved Jamie both physically and emotionally .
But I couldn’t help myself.
My toes ached from trying to reach more of him even though his mouth was already on mine.
Beyond breathless, I told myself I was going to love this man even if it was the death of me.
But how? I didn’t understand Jamie’s sexuality.
I didn’t understand the confusion swirling through my mind.
And I didn’t understand how I could have Jamie because my heart shuddered every time I recalled that he was ace.
That simple fact terrified me more than anything Aleksandr Chelomey ever could because Jamie MacKenzie hadn’t let me go yet. In fact, he’d lifted me into his arms.