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Ivy
My mind was in a fog.
All I knew was that we were alive because Jameson’s partner had made the ultimate sacrifice.
Twelve hours ago, if one single thing had gone the opposite direction, I would either be dead or on my way to God-knows-where to be someone’s sex slave and Jameson never would’ve known that the mole was the one person he trusted above everyone else.
Talk about dazed and confused…
Sex was our therapy. The need to feel something aside from the turmoil twisting our emotions in knots was a welcome respite.
Even if we both knew it was just a Band-Aid for a wound that later festered.
We wound around each other like twisted branches, seeking solace in the pleasure.
In all the world, I’d never known what pleasure was until Jameson barreled into my life with all the grace of a wrecking ball.
He smashed everything I’d ever known, obliterated any preconceived ideas of what sex would be like, and then rebuilt my future expectations with each powerful thrust into my willing body.
And somewhere along the way, I’d fallen in love with the hulking brute.
But I didn’t know what Jameson was thinking because he’d been mostly silent.
All I knew was Jameson was struggling.
He wasn’t his usual self — which, in light of how he was usually gruff, private and prone to mood swings, should’ve been an improvement but I missed the man who’d changed my life.
Not because I loved when he was an asshole, but because I didn’t know how to react to this new version of Jameson.
We were both processing.
The only difference — we were locked in each other’s arms as if the world was about to end.
“I should’ve known.”
Jameson broke the silence between us, his voice soft in the darkness of my bedroom.
“How could you? Are you psychic?”
“Of course not,” he growled but he tightened his hold on me as if he were afraid I might disappear into thin air. “But going undercover with someone…you become each other’s life line. How could I have missed something so big as my partner being on the take?”
“It’s not like he wore a badge on his forehead announcing that fact,” I pointed out, trying to soothe his guilt. I hated seeing him so torn up over this when it wasn’t his fault.
When did I become so wrapped up in Jameson’s feelings? How had things changed so dramatically?
“Still…there would’ve been signs…”
“People who are determined to keep a secret, generally put a lot of energy into making sure their secret is kept. But for what it’s worth, I think your partner was trying to protect you. He was crammed between a rock and a hard place.”
Jameson nodded, surprising me when he agreed. “I just wish he would’ve trust me to help him out of his jam. I would’ve done whatever I could.”
And I knew that to be true. While Jameson may have seemed shady when we first met — and certainly hadn’t acted like a good guy — deep down, he was all about being there for the ones he cared about.
Even if he was private about it.
“So what happens next?” I asked, curious.
Jameson sighed and pulled away to roll to his back. “There will be an investigation. Everything will be out in the open. Fuck, it’s going to be a bloodbath in the press.”
I ached for Jameson. “Is there any way to keep the details of Hank’s suicide out of the report?”
Jameson didn’t answer but I knew he was thinking.
“I mean, let’s get real, I’m sure there is plenty that is left out of the reports when you go undercover,” I said. “What does it matter as long as the bad guy was caught?”
“Forensics will show that he clearly blew his brains out,” Jameson said with a frown.
“True, but what if…the circumstances in which Hank died, were not entirely what happened?” I suggested, unable to believe I was encouraging Jameson to bend the truth but I could see how the details were unnecessarily cruel to Hank’s family.
“Such as?” he prompted, curious.
“Well, what if, there was a struggle…and Hank got shot when Terano rushed him?”
Jameson shook his head. “That won’t work. Forensics will show that Hank shot Terano first.”
My hopes sank. “Damn,” I murmured. “Forensics are hard to circumvent.”
“Yeah, tell me about it,” he said wryly.
I was out of ideas. I snuggled up to his big body and held him, our heartbeats syncing as one.
Then, something came to me that I knew was probably a long shot but…I had to try.
“Tell your captain the truth.”
“That’s already the plan,” he said as if my suggestion wasn’t very helpful. “What choice do I have?”
I rose up on my elbows. “But maybe appeal to your captain’s sense of fair play. Why does Hank’s suicide have to be part of the report? He got killed in the line of duty. End of story. No one else has to know.”
“I don’t think that’s a risk my captain wants to take. It could blow up in his face.”
“All he can say is no. If he says, forget it, then at least you tried.”
“Yeah, and ruin my credibility with my captain? If I walk in there and ask for him to leave out details, he’s going to wonder if I’ve done that with other cases. It could fuck my undercover career.”
Personally, I didn’t think Jameson ending his undercover career was a bad thing. But I know that was selfish thinking so I kept it to myself.
“Look, it’s my problem, don’t worry about it,” he said, his frustration coming out in a clipped tone that hurt my feelings.
I bit my lip. “Jameson…”
But he wasn’t in the mood to listen any longer. Jameson flung the covers back and climbed from the bed, his nude body cutting a muscular silhouette against the moonlight.
“Where are you going?” I asked.
“I should go,” he said abruptly. “I need to clear my head.”
He was running away. I had enough experience with people in my life bailing when things got tough that I recognized the signs.
It shouldn’t have hurt so much but it did.
“Fine.”
Jameson scooped up his clothes and dressed. Within moments he was gone.
At least he didn’t toss some obligatory bullshit like, I’ll call you, when I knew he probably wouldn’t.
I fell back on the pillows and fought the burn of tears. Well, the asshole has returned. I was trying to help.
Everything was crazy inside my head.
The horror of everything was crowding my brain and I sensed a panic attack coming but I pushed it back.
I wasn’t going to crumble.
If I could get through everything that’d gone down in the last week, I could handle whatever was coming.
Even if what was coming was the biggest heartbreak of my life.
Fuck you, Jameson.
How the hell did you manage to get your claws into my soul?
Jameson
I had to get away from Ivy.
It felt too comforting to be in her bed, holding her as if I had the right.
She wasn’t mine.
She deserved far better than me.
I never should’ve dragged her into my mess.
My selfishness was choking me right now.
I’d been hyper-focused on catching Terano, I missed so many signs that could’ve gotten everyone killed, including Ivy.
My faith was shaken.
A crisis of the soul, I guess.
As if my soul wasn’t already blackened and shriveled.
The night air kissed my stubbled skin, reminding me of the warm bed I’d left behind.
Memories of Ivy’s battered face, knowing how close she came to being sold off or killed…it was more than I could handle.
What was I feeling? The tight band across my chest squeezed until I couldn’t breathe.
I pulled into the parking lot of my place and walked into the house. A disconnect followed.
Why didn’t I feel comfortable in my own space?
