As soon as the four of them entered a small office in the back area of the bar, Clay closed the door for privacy and waved a hand at one of the two chairs in the room.
“Make yourself comfortable.” Clay’s tone was business-like as he rounded an old, scarred wooden desk and settled himself into a worn leather chair.
Lowering himself to one of the armchairs, Jackson made himself as comfortable as possible considering he felt as though he were facing a firing squad. Levi sat to his right in the other vacant seat, while Mason had brought in a wooden chair from the bar to sit in. He turned it around, straddled the seat, and rested his arms across the top, a frown on his face.
There was nothing fancy about the cramped, windowless room they were in, not compared to Jackson’s luxurious private office in downtown Chicago, complete with a million-dollar view of Lake Michigan. Everything about these three men spoke of hard-working, blue-collar roots, and he suddenly felt very out of place in his tailored suit, designer tie, and shiny Ferragamo loafers.
Shit. Maybe he should have changed from his work clothes into something more casual before coming to the bar. Too late now, and judging by the way Mason was eyeing him up and down through his narrowed gaze, the other guy had already sized him up and come to his own conclusions about Jackson.
“What proof do you have that you’re our brother?” Mason asked abruptly, confirming that despite Jackson’s identical looks to Clay, this other sibling wasn’t going to make anything easy on him. “And what the fuck do you want with us?”
“Jesus Christ, Mason,” Clay barked out in a sharp, reprimanding tone. “Cool it with the interrogation, will you? You’re looking at irrefutable proof that he’s my twin.”
Mason glared at his brother, then turned that hard stare back to Jackson that was steeped with distrust and suspicion. “I want to know why he’s here and what he wants.”
“I don’t want anything from any of you,” Jackson said, his own voice brusque. “I’m here because I thought maybe you’d like to know that you had another brother.”
Levi sighed, as if they were used to dealing with Mason’s hotheaded behavior. “Look, I know we all have a lot of questions, and I’m sure Jackson will answer them, but how about we have this discussion in a civilized manner?” he said, deliberately directing the words toward his testy sibling.
“Then by all means, Mr. Calm and Rational Cop,” Mason said, sarcasm lacing his voice, “since you’re the expert, why don’t you lead the interview?”
Oh, yeah, definitely a smartass.
Levi smirked and gave a whatever kind of shrug before glancing back at Jackson. “How long have you known about us?” he asked, his question much more logical, and far less confrontational, than his brother’s.
“Not long. It’s only been a couple weeks since I found out I was illegally adopted and where I came from.”
“Illegally adopted?” Clay echoed his words as he sat up straighter in his chair, his dark brows pulled into a confused frown. “How?”
Jackson definitely had everyone’s attention. Three pairs of eyes were trained on him, waiting to hear the details. “My Aunt Becca, on my mother’s side of the family and who I’m very close to, told me about the adoption. My mother passed away from breast cancer when I was ten, and she made my aunt promise to never tell me the truth, but Becca felt I had the right to know about my past.”
He didn’t need to explain why it had taken his aunt so long to tell him the truth or how guilt had eaten away at her until she couldn’t keep it a secret any longer. None of those details mattered right now, and they were personal and private to him, anyway.
He glanced across the desk to Clay, the brother he’d never known, and met his gaze. “Two weeks after I was born, our birth mother sold me to Leila, the woman who raised me as my mom, for three grand.”
Clay’s jaw dropped open. “She fucking sold you?” he asked incredulously. “For three fucking grand? Jesus Christ.”
“Probably for drug money,” Levi said quietly, but there was no concealing the bitterness in his tone. “I can’t say I’m all that surprised.”
Mason nodded in agreement, his lips stretched into a grim line. It was the only emotion he showed to indicate that their mother’s heartless actions actually affected him in any way. “If you don’t already know, our mother—and I use the term very lightly—was a crack whore in every sense of the word.”
Jackson nodded. His aunt had told him as much, not that it made him feel any better. He should have been grateful that he’d been spared a junkie as a mother, yet there was no denying that he resented the fact that he’d never known his real brothers, one of whom was his twin. Instead, he had a sibling who was just as much of an asshole as the man who’d unwillingly raised Jackson and a father figure who’d never wanted him to begin with and made sure Jackson didn’t go a day without making sure he knew he wasn’t wanted.
“What about a birth certificate?” Clay asked, clearly trying to make sense of it all.
“My mother had one forged that I’ve used all my life, but my aunt gave me my original and legal birth certificate when she told me everything a few weeks ago.” Withdrawing the document he’d brought with him, Jackson unfolded the piece of paper and handed it to Mason first. “Here’s the proof that you wanted to see.”
The other man didn’t bother to look ashamed or apologetic. Instead, Mason gave Jackson a cocky smirk before glancing at the birth certificate to verify the information before passing it on to Clay.
“How did your mother get away with an illegal adoption?” Clay asked once he’d gotten the chance to look over the official record of his birth. “Didn’t anyone question the fact that she brought a baby home out of the blue?”
“My aunt said my mother told everyone that I’d been adopted through the system, and nobody questioned her. It was completely believable, so why would they doubt her claim? Soon after, my parents moved to a new city, and my so-called adoption was never brought up again and remained a secret until a couple weeks ago.”
Jackson’s gut churned when he remembered his conversation with his Aunt Becca and how she’d told him that Paul Stone hadn’t known about his wife’s unethical plan to buy a baby on the black market until Leila had brought Jackson home. By then, Paul felt trapped and as though he’d had no choice but to go along with the ruse or have his wife arrested for kidnapping or worse.
“There’s no way of ever knowing how our real mother got away with selling her newborn without being caught or what lies she concocted to cover up her corrupt actions,” Levi said, his voice as hard as his expression. “She’s dead.”
Jackson hadn’t asked the PI for anything more than the information he’d received on his brothers, and even though he’d never met his birth mother, the news of her death, delivered so callously, was a shock to his system. “I’m sorry,” he said automatically.
“We’re not,” Mason replied bluntly. “Did you miss the part where I said our mother was a crack whore? If she wasn’t out getting high, she was fucking some random stranger for drug money while her kids were alone and starving at home or being abused by some prick she’d left to take care of us.” Those criticizing eyes raked over Jackson once again. “Be grateful that you didn’t have a shitty childhood like we did.”
Jackson bit his tongue to keep from snapping back a reply. These men didn’t know him or what he’d lived through. Mason was judging him based on his outer appearance alone, which irritated the hell out of Jackson because the suit he was wearing told them nothing about the man he was or what his own childhood had been like. True, he hadn’t been subjected to a drug-addicted mother or physical abuse, but the mental and emotional torment his father had inflicted had been equally fucked up.
The room grew quiet, uncomfortably so. When none of the brothers asked any other questions, Jackson took that as his cue that they were done.
“I know this is a lot for you guys to digest, while I’ve had time to process everything, so I’m going to go for now.” Nobody stopped him when he stood, so he withdrew a business card from his wallet and set it on Clay’s desk. “Here’s my contact information. Feel free to call me if you have any other questions.” Or if you just want to get to know your long-lost brother better, he thought, but kept the latter part to himself.
Again, no one said a word, and it left him with an empty feeling deep inside, as though he was an outsider looking in, once again, like a stranger who didn’t belong. It was an emotion he hated but was all too familiar with.
He inclined his head to Clay, then the other two men. “It was good to meet all three of you,” he said, then walked out of the office.
The ball was now in their court, and the next move was up to one of them.
* * *
Tara kept one eye on the hallway leading to Clay’s office while filling drink orders for the few customers who’d come into the bar. She was dying to know what was going on behind that closed door. How Clay, Mason, and Levi were reacting to the news of a brother they hadn’t known existed, and she was curious to find out how things were going for Jackson, too.
When it came to the Kincaid brothers, three against one weren’t great odds, especially when they perceived something, or someone, as a threat. And they’d been through enough in their lifetime to justify their wariness, even toward a man who looked identical to Clay and left no doubt in anyone’s mind that they were twins.
Grabbing a bottle of rum, she poured two shots into a tall glass and filled the rest with cola, then added a lime before setting it on the serving pad for Amanda to pick up and deliver to a table. Tara had only met Jackson less than an hour ago and had talked to him for a mere thirty minutes, but she sensed he had good intentions as far as the brothers were concerned. It remained to be seen if those three men would give him any kind of chance or decide that he was someone they could trust. For Jackson’s sake, she hoped the Kincaid brothers came around. She’d sensed that he wanted more than just to let them know about their long-lost brother. It was as if Jackson needed them in his life.
Fifteen short minutes after disappearing into the back room, Jackson returned by himself. Her gaze met his as he headed straight toward where she was standing behind the bar, but she couldn’t get a read on his emotions. He looked like a man who knew all about control, including keeping any adverse reaction to himself.
As he neared, her traitorous body was quick to acknowledge him as a man, as it had when he’d sat at the bar earlier. A gorgeous, sexy, captivating man with a seductive mouth made for sinning and a lean, powerful body defined by the cut of his expensive suit. Even the way he walked was both sensual and assertive—and a very naughty part of her wondered if he was equally demanding in the bedroom with a woman’s pleasure.
The thought alone had her panties feeling damp.
She shifted on her feet as awareness fluttered in her belly, and her heart even raced a bit faster, too. It seemed like it had been forever since she’d felt this level of temptation, this irrepressible attraction, and that was saying something considering all the men who came into the bar and hit on her on a nightly basis. She’d gone out with a few, but none of them had gotten past a date or two. And none had ever sparked the kind of burning desire she was feeling right now, without being physically touched at all.
Her response to Jackson should have felt weird, considering he was Clay’s twin and she’d once had a tiny crush on her boss before he’d met and married Samantha. But while the two brothers were similar in looks, she already knew that their personalities were vastly different. This man who’d just stopped in front of her with only the counter separating them was dynamic and sophisticated, more worldly and enigmatic compared to Clay’s more casual persona and the simple way he chose to live.
And he was way out of Tara’s league. She considered herself an ordinary, average woman who poured drinks and managed a bar in a low- to middle-class neighborhood. And she carried around way too much baggage of guilt and regrets that sometimes felt like a hundred-pound weight on her conscience. Undoubtedly, Jackson was used to beautiful, exquisite females who were elegant and refined. Women who came from respectable families and didn’t have a past crammed full of shameful secrets. There was nothing about Tara or her life that was remotely close to being cultured in any way, and there never would be.
He cocked his head to the side, his blue eyes flicking across her face before meeting her gaze again. “Warm in here?” he asked.
His odd question caught her off guard. It was the last thing she’d expected him to say after leaving Clay’s office. “Umm, no. Why?”
A hint of a teasing smile tipped the corner of his mouth. “Your skin, mostly your cheeks, looks a little flushed.”
Because she’d just been thinking about his prowess in the bedroom before her thoughts had veered off course. Suddenly feeling as though he’d read her mind somehow, that he knew exactly the kind of effect he had on her senses, she resisted the impulse to raise her palms to her flushed face.
She asked a more important question of her own instead. “How did it go in there?”
“As well as can be expected, I suppose.” He shrugged nonchalantly, though she didn’t miss the quick flash of disappointment that passed through his eyes before he replaced it with a wry grin. “They’re a tough crowd. Mason especially.”
She’d known that the brothers would be wary, standoffish, even. And she couldn’t blame them considering they’d had no opportunity to process the fact that they had another sibling. “Just give them time, and I’m sure they’ll come around.”
He looked doubtful but didn’t comment as he withdrew his wallet, pulled out a twenty, and pushed it across the counter toward her.
She eyed the money in confusion. “What’s this for?”
“It’s for the Bushmills I had earlier.”
She quickly shook her head. “You don’t have to pay for your drink—”
“Yes, I do,” he countered adamantly. “I’m a paying customer just like anyone else in here. The last thing I want is to have my own brothers press charges against me for running out on my tab.”
He said the words with a light amount of humor, but the underlying message in his comment made her chest tighten . . . Jackson knew the three men back in the office didn’t trust him, nor had they welcomed him as family. He was still a stranger, and yeah, a paying customer.
Reluctantly, she picked up the cash, hating that she felt so torn between feeling compassion toward a man she’d just met and remaining loyal to the three brothers who were the closest thing she had to a family. She truly understood both sides of this situation and wished that the meeting had gone better for Jackson.
“Let me get your change,” she said softly.
“No need,” he replied before she could move toward the register. “Thanks for the conversation earlier. I enjoyed it.” His voice vibrated with sincerity, and he gave her a playful wink.
She smiled at him as a sensual warmth slid through her. “I hope I see you again.” And her reasons for that were partly selfish and had everything to do with him, personally, and the attraction that she had no business even thinking about, let alone acting upon.
“That all depends on those three men back in the office and whether or not they want me around.” He sounded resigned to the latter. “Have a good evening, Tara.”
“You, too, Jackson.” She watched him go, ignoring the odd pang of disappointment inside of her in favor of ogling him one last time before he was gone. With his broad shoulders, lean hips, and confident stride, the man’s backside was just as hot and mouthwatering as the rest of him.
Amanda walked up to the service area, her head turned toward Jackson’s retreat, too. “Damn, he is so fine. I want to strip him naked and lick him from head to toe.”
“Not if I do it first.” Tara’s eyes widened as she jerked her gaze to Amanda, shocked that she’d spoken her wicked thoughts out loud.
“Oh, my God, Tara,” the other woman chastised with a laugh. “Did those words really just come out of your mouth?”
“Maybe,” she murmured, then tried to distract the bar waitress. “What do you need?”
“I need an apple martini and a Sam’s, and you obviously need to get laid.” Amusement danced in Amanda’s eyes. “You’ve never asserted a claim on any guy who’s come into this bar, and you’re starting with Clay’s twin? I’m impressed.”
That same flush of heat that Jackson had called her on less than five minutes ago suffused her cheeks once more. “I’m not claiming anyone,” she insisted as she grabbed a chilled bottle of beer, popped the top, and set it on Amanda’s tray before starting in on the fruity cocktail.
“It’s okay. I won’t tell anyone,” the other woman promised in a low, conspiratorial voice. “Just remember the ‘I licked it first, therefore it’s mine’ rule. You’d better do it before someone else does.”
This time, Tara laughed. “As much as I might want to lick him, it’s not going to happen.”
“Why the hell not?”
“For a number of reasons.” She poured the vodka and sour apple pucker into the metal shaker with bits of ice and shook the ingredients together until the alcohol was cold and slightly frothy. “For one, I have no idea if he’s available, and for another, I really don’t think I’m his type. Did you happen to notice that really nice suit he was wearing that probably cost a small fortune?” she asked sarcastically.
Amanda dropped a cherry into the apple martini before setting it next to the beer on her tray, then smirked at Tara. “I was too wrapped up in my own fantasy of getting him naked and licking him to notice what he was wearing. Stop getting caught up in the trivial things or you’ll never have any fun.”
Tara just rolled her eyes, but there was a more important detail to the equation . . . and that was the distinct possibility that she might not ever see Jackson again. There was no telling if he’d be back or not. The answer to that subject was in the hands of the three Kincaid brothers, and she suddenly wanted to know how they were dealing with the news that they had a sibling they hadn’t even known about.
“Hey, Amanda,” Tara said as the other woman was about to leave the counter. “After you deliver those drinks, are your tables good for a while?”
“Yep. Do you need me to cover for you so you can run to the little girls’ room?”
Amanda split her time between cocktail waitressing and bartending at Kincaid’s, depending on what was needed for the night. Wednesdays were the slowest evenings of the week, so Amanda took the waitress shift. “Actually, I’d like to go talk to Clay and it might be more than a few minutes.”
“Sure, fine. I can handle the bar and Gina can cover the floor for a while,” she said of the other bar waitress and part-time bartender who was also working for the night. “Give me a sec to take care of these drinks, and I’ll be back.”
A few minutes later, Tara was heading toward Clay’s office. Deep, masculine voices drifted out into the hallway, and when she reached the door, it was open a few inches. She knocked lightly to announce her presence, then poked her head inside.
“You guys okay?” she asked as she slipped into the office.
“No, we’re not fucking okay.” Mason jammed his hands through his hair as he paced back and forth in the small space, his agitation coming through loud and clear. “We have a goddamn brother we knew nothing about, not to mention finding out our mother sold Clay’s twin for fucking drug money.”
She sucked in a startled breath. “Is that what Jackson told you?”
“Yeah.” Mason’s jaw hardened even more, and Levi and Clay remained quiet while their brother continued to rant. “I wouldn’t believe it if it weren’t for the fact that selling a kid is exactly something our sorry excuse for a mother would do. That bitch had no conscience.”
Her head spun as Mason’s words eventually sunk in, and she couldn’t imagine how Jackson had felt hearing that devastating news for the first time. And she was doing it again . . . feeling empathy for a man she’d just met.
“Then he comes in here with his flashy, high-dollar suit, and oh, hey, look, he’s a goddamn architect at some big fucking firm in Chicago,” Mason went on cynically while flicking his finger over the glossy business card he held in his hand. “Jesus, he looks as though he grew up with a silver spoon in his mouth, while we barely scraped by every single day.”
“You don’t know what his childhood was like, and just because he might have money and a respectable job, it doesn’t make him a bad person.” She didn’t bother to point out that Clay had over a million dollars tucked away, a tidy sum of money, along with the bar he’d inherited from the old man who’d owned the place before he’d passed away. And no one was judging him based on his wealth and what he’d been given.
Mason crossed his tattooed arms over his wide chest, his stance defensive. “I don’t trust him.” And for a man who’d had very little reason to let other people into the Kincaid inner circle, it was as simple as that.
“I’ll see what I can find out about Jackson,” Levi finally said, his voice even and practical. “I have someone at the station who owes me a favor, and I’ll get them to run a thorough background check on the guy to see if he has anything glaring in his past. Or any kind of record or issues that we should be concerned about.”
“That’s kind of invasive, don’t you think?” Tara asked, the comment escaping her before she realized just how biased her question sounded.
“We have no idea who he is.” Clay was still sitting behind his desk, and he leaned back in his chair as his gaze met Tara’s. “Not really.”
“Or what he wants,” Mason piped in once more.
She laughed, but the sound lacked any real humor. “What if he just wants to get to know the three brothers that he was separated from at birth?”
Clay frowned at her. “Why are you defending him?”
The room grew quiet as three pairs of eyes studied her way too intently. “I’m not defending him.”
“Yeah, you are,” Mason said, his voice gruff as his suspicious gaze narrowed even further. “Did Jackson get inside your head before we got here? Is that why you’re on his side?”
“What?” She gaped at Mason, unable to believe that he’d just accused Jackson of brainwashing her. Exasperation and frustration made her voice rise a few notches. “Oh, my God. No, he didn’t get inside my head. He asked about you guys. He was genuinely interested in knowing about all three of you.”
“And what did you tell him?” Levi asked.
“Just general stuff that he could find out on his own if he wanted to.” That was the truth. She hadn’t revealed anything personal or private.
Clay scrubbed a hand along his unshaven jaw and sighed heavily. “If Jackson comes around again, stay away from him until Levi finds out more about who he is.”
She was used to Clay being protective, and normally she appreciated his concern, but there was nothing that Jackson had said or done during his short time in the bar that had led her to believe he was dangerous in any way. “He doesn’t seem like a serial killer to me,” she said.
“You don’t know that,” Mason said, bickering with her as if she were a sibling.
She gave him a barely tolerable look. “You’re impossible, you know that? How does Katrina put up with you on a daily basis?” When he smirked, she held up her hand to cut him off, knowing he was about to spout off something inappropriate and crass. “Never mind. Don’t answer that.”
Her imploring gaze sought out Clay’s instead, because out of the three brothers, she knew he was the least likely person in this room to make assumptions about a person’s character based on outward appearance and one fifteen-minute conversation. She knew this because Clay had taken a chance on her when she’d had nothing and no one. When she’d been so lost and alone and needed just one person to believe in her. He’d given her that faith.
“Don’t be so quick to cast judgment against Jackson before you get to know him. That’s not what you do or who you are, Clay.” There was a reason he’d been nicknamed Saint Clay, and she appealed to that kindness and altruistic side of his personality now. “You’ve always seen the good in people, and you’ve always given them a chance to prove themselves and their integrity. Jackson is your twin brother, and he deserves that chance.”
Clay nodded in understanding but didn’t soften completely. “He’s a stranger, and I’m just trying to protect my family,” he said quietly.
“And I respect that.” She truly did, especially after all that they’d been through. “I just don’t want the three of you to have any regrets later on.”
Knowing she’d said enough, she decided it was time for her to leave the office. “I need to get back to the bar,” she said, and turned to go.
“Tara?”
At the sound of Clay calling her name, she faced him again, wondering if she’d said too much or had gone too far. “Yes?”
“Next Saturday, schedule yourself off for the day and night,” Clay said. “Amanda can handle things for the evening.”
Not what she’d expected at all. As the manager of Kincaid’s—a position Clay had promoted her to when she’d finally finished her college courses a few weeks ago and could devote more time to the business side of the bar—she always worked weekends. Amanda was trained to close the bar with the help of a few other employees, but she found Clay’s request an odd one.
She tipped her head curiously. “Okay. Mind if I ask why?”
A fond smile curved his lips, all traces of their more serious conversation about Jackson gone. “Because Samantha, Katrina, and Sarah decided that’s when we’re having a barbeque at our place to celebrate you graduating from college and getting your business degree. Did you really think we were going to let something huge like that go by without recognition?”
She swallowed back the swell of emotion that rose in her throat, but there was nothing she could do about the warmth she could feel sweeping across her cheeks. “You don’t have to do that. It’s not a big deal.”
“It’s a huge fucking deal,” Mason said affectionately. “We’re proud of you. Between school and exams and being at the bar, you worked your ass off. Besides, it’s a great excuse to drink, party, and get wild and crazy.”
“Of course it is,” she said on a laugh. “It sounds like fun. Thank you.”
Leave it to the Kincaid brothers to surprise her with something so sweet. Which just made her feel a little guilty for backing Jackson and pushing for them to give him the benefit of the doubt. She told herself she’d done it for them, and she had. But she couldn’t deny the part of her that wanted to see Jackson Stone again.
