Jackson pulled the car to a stop outside his father’s trailer.
He barely felt the bruises and cuts from the night before. The fight had been a tough one, but he hadn’t come close to losing.
Even though it had been a difficult win, he’d swap being back in that cage in a heartbeat if it meant not being here.
Fuck, he hated this trailer park. There were too many shitty memories from his childhood. The constant smell of alcohol. The empty bottles. The fucking loneliness.
Being alone beat the hell out of when he wasn’t, though. Being alone had meant he was safe from the fists that always ended with more bruises scattered across his body.
“You sure you want to do this?” Declan asked.
It was close to six in the morning. He’d stayed at the inn with Dec last night instead of returning to River, trusting Cole to protect her. Needing some space to think.
He also hadn’t been sure if his father was going to rat him out for stepping into that room last night. He’d almost expected Elijah’s guys to storm into the inn.
“He has the answers,” Jackson said quietly. “He knows exactly what happened to Ryker, and why.”
His own father. Involved in his best friend’s murder. It should surprise him. It didn’t. And wasn’t that the most messed-up part of all this?
Jackson shook his head, anger racing through his veins. “He saw what Ryker and his family did for me. It wasn’t enough that he had to be a shit father, he also had to have a hand in the death of my best friend.”
And over what? Money?
Declan looked like he wanted to say something, but then the door to his father’s trailer opened, and Brian stepped out, looking right at them. Like he was challenging Jackson to get out. Confront him.
Jackson swung his door open. He vaguely heard the loud exhale from Declan. His focus remained on his father. The man who’d made sure his childhood was a living hell.
Grabbing Brian by the shirt, Jackson shoved him against the metal trailer. “What the fuck is going on at that club?”
There was no expression on his father’s face at all. “Don’t tell me you haven’t figured it out already, son?”
That three-letter word at the end…it almost broke the thin grasp he had on his self-restraint. “Don’t fucking call me that. You’ve never been a father to me.”
For a moment, Jackson almost thought he saw a flash of remorse on the guy’s face. But it couldn’t be. The man didn’t have a scrap of humanity in him. “Because I’m not fucking father material. Your whore of a mother knew that and she still left me with your dumb ass.”
Jackson didn’t think. He just swung. Crashing his fist into the side of his father’s face.
The older man almost crumpled, but Jackson grabbed him, shoving him against the trailer again.
“I’m not here to talk about why my mother left me with a sad excuse for a father, or why you couldn’t clean your ass up and be a better goddamn person. I already know the answer. Some people are incapable of making decisions that benefit others. Some people are incapable of love.” He’d let the pain of that truth go a long time ago. “Tell me about Ryker’s involvement at the club.”
His father spat a mouthful of blood onto the ground. “You should have listened to me when I told you to leave.”
“Why? Because they’re going to kill me like they killed Ryker?”
“Yes. What he’s got going is too fucking lucrative to let anyone get in the way. I didn’t tell him about you walking into that room last night because I didn’t have to. You’re digging your own grave. If you care about that little girlfriend of yours at all, you’ll stop.”
Jackson pulled the guy forward before slamming him into the trailer again. “Tell me what’s going on right the hell now or I’ll break every fucking bone in your body one by one.”
The guy remained silent. Fine. Jackson lifted his leg and brought his boot down hard on Brian’s foot, knowing he snapped at least one bone.
His father cried out and tried to pull away, but Jackson held him firm.
“I’ll start with the smallest bones and work my way up,” he said quietly. “Now, tell me what I want to hear before I break your hand.”
His father remained silent, his breaths heavy. When Jackson reached for his wrist, he finally spoke.
“Firearms trafficking,” Brian growled. “Elijah’s the leader. He traffics a high volume of guns in and out of the country.”
Declan stepped forward. “Where do they go?”
Brian tried to pull out of his hold again but got nowhere. “Canada.”
“And Ryker found out.”
It was a question. But it wasn’t.
“Yeah. And things don’t end well for people who find out when they’re not supposed to.” There was a sneer on his face. “So what do you think’s going to happen to you?”
A slow smile replaced the sneer. “Go on. Hit me again for not protecting Ryker. You know you want to. I know you want to. I can see it in your eyes. It’s the same look I see in the goddamn mirror.”
The muscles in Jackson’s body tensed. “I’m nothing like you.”
“No? So you don’t feel the sweet release every time you throw a punch? You don’t step into that ring to appease your demons?”
Jackson lowered his head, quietening his voice. “Maybe I do. The difference is, I know when and where to throw the punch. And I know how to stop. It’s called being a fucking adult.”
His father actually laughed. “It’s called violence, kid. It runs in your blood as freely as it runs in mine.”
River crept out of her bedroom. It was midmorning. She’d only just woken up, and she could hear the hum of voices from the other room.
The birds were chirping and the sun was up. She should be in a good mood. She wasn’t.
“Cole, I know you’re trying to help, but it’s really not necessary.”
River stepped into the kitchen and stopped at the sight of Michele trying to wrestle a pan from Cole’s hand.
Cole lifted a brow. “You know, when people offer to help, the polite thing to do is just say thank you.”
Michele huffed, her fingers looking like steel wrapped around that pan. “Guess I’m not too polite then, am I?”
“Where is he?” River asked.
Both sets of eyes swung her way.
Michele’s brows rose. “You’re up.”
“I am.” River shot her gaze to Cole. “Where’s Jackson?”
Because he certainly hadn’t been in bed with her when she’d woken. In fact, his side of the bed had been cold and still made, meaning he hadn’t returned last night at all. And there had been no text. No call. Nothing.
Cole let go of the pan and moved toward her. “Jackson finished late at the club, so he decided not to come back in case he woke you.”
And he hadn’t thought to let her know he was okay? “So where is he?”
“He stayed with Dec at the inn.”
She moved further into the room. “But he won his fight?”
For a split second, Cole paused. Then he gave a quick nod. “Yes.”
“Why’d you hesitate?”
Michele ducked her head and turned toward the stove.
“I didn’t hesitate.”
“You kinda did,” Michele said quietly.
“You definitely did.” Another step. “Is he okay?”
“He just sent me a text to say he’s at the gym with Dec, so he must be.”
River’s mouth slipped open. “He sent you a text to say he’s at the gym?”
The man said he loved her the other night but couldn’t update her on his well-being after going to a dangerous club and fighting a man who could have killed him?
Cole’s mouth opened, as if he’d said the wrong thing but wasn’t sure what the right thing was.
“And he’s fine enough to go to the gym this morning,” she said, more to herself than anyone else, “but he can’t send me a text to say that he’s, I don’t know…alive?”
Now she was just hurt.
When Cole remained silent, River turned on the balls of her feet and marched toward the bedroom.
“Where are you going?” Michele called.
“I’m getting changed to go see Jackson.”
River took the quickest shower of her life before throwing on some jeans and a T-shirt. Then she grabbed her keys, not surprised to see Cole and Michele already by the door.
Michele gave her a quick hug. “Let me know how it goes.”
“I will.”
Michele walked to her car as River and Cole went to hers. They both remained silent until River was just pulling onto the street.
“Are you angry at him?” he asked.
“A little. Also frustrated. Confused. I don’t think a quick text or phone call to let me know he’s okay is too much to ask, considering what’s been going on.”
Cole gave a short nod. “Fair enough.”
“I mean, it wasn’t just the fight that I was scared about. The man’s going to a club that led to my brother’s supposed death. He could have easily never walked out again.”
“True.”
“And the only reason I didn’t text him last night was because I didn’t want to distract him. I didn’t want to be the reason he couldn’t concentrate around Mickey or Elijah or that guy he fought in the ring.” She shook her head. “Even a simple ‘Hey Rae, just letting you know I wasn’t killed in the ring last night’ text would have been nice.”
“I agree.”
River parked the car on the street outside the gym. “I texted him before I jumped into the shower. And you know what I received back?”
“I could venture a guess.”
“Nothing. Radio silence. Diddly squat.”
She climbed out of the car, moving toward the door. Cole trailed inside behind her, and the first thing she saw was Declan lifting a bag over his shoulders.
He frowned. “What are you guys doing here? Jackson’s in the locker room, and then we were leaving.”
Her gaze shot to the empty containers of food from the Penguin Café. The rational side of her brain knew Jackson needed to eat. It was late morning, so of course, he’d gotten food. But for some reason, the sight of the containers had another part of her feeling even more annoyed. Maybe because he’d prioritized takeaway over her.
“We’re here to yell at Jackson,” Cole said calmly, folding his arms over his chest.
River flashed a look at Cole. “I never said yell.”
Declan didn’t even look surprised. He tilted his head toward the locker room. “He’s showering.”
She gave a quick nod and moved forward. “Thanks.”
“We’ll leave you to it then,” Cole called.
River waved her hand distractedly before stepping into the bathroom.
Steam fogged the space. There were four shower cubicles. Jackson was in the third. He was turned to the side so she could only see part of him, and his eyes were closed, chin on his chest as water pummeled his back.
For a moment, she was pulled out of her frustration and confusion to just…look at the man. At his powerful, thick arms and legs. At the tightly packed muscles on his chest and stomach.
Her mouth went dry. He was, and always had been, the most beautiful man she’d ever seen. And now he was just more…everything.
She moved toward the shower. “Are you okay?”
Jackson’s eyes opened and his head turned. She almost gasped at the bruise on his left cheekbone. And not just his cheekbone. Now that he was straight and facing her, she saw the dark bruises on his side, like someone had repeatedly kicked him. Also, one on his shoulder.
“What are you doing here, River?” he asked quietly.
She swallowed. “You didn’t come home last night.” Yes, she was referring to her house as his home, and she didn’t even care. “Why haven’t you texted? And where have you been all morning?”
For a moment, he was silent, a frown marring his brows. And then she saw something else.
Pain. It seemed to be tearing at his soul, torturing him.
“Jackson—”
“Come here.”
She stepped forward without hesitation. The second she was within reaching distance, his arm snaked around her waist, tugging her against his body and under the spray. A gasp had barely left her lips when his mouth crashed onto hers. Like he couldn’t go another second without kissing her.
For a moment, she was still, so surprised, that every muscle in her body froze. Then his tongue slipped between her lips, and his hands roamed along her body, firm and unyielding, yet oddly gentle. He tugged her hips against his, making her ridiculously aware of the hardness that pressed against her belly.
She leaned into him, groaning deep in her throat as she held his face, surrendering herself to the man she loved.
