Page 26 of Jameson’s Salvation

“Fuck. I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important.”

“All right. I’m going in.”

“See you in a few minutes.”

I tossed my phone in my purse and wandered around the store, staying as far away from the front counter as I could. I was more than a little upset that Jonas Brown had terminated our agreement, and a little hurt, too. I’d thought we were friends, but I guess not when the man wouldn’t even explain why. I was browsing the essential oil selection, pissed because I needed to stock up on a few bottles but I’d be damned if I purchased them from Jonas.

Suddenly Jameson was at my side, his eyes angry and head going from side to side scanning the small grocery store.

“What’s wrong?”

“Come on.”

He grabbed my hand, laced our fingers together and tugged me out the door, and didn’t stop until we were at his truck, which was illegally double-parked. He opened the passenger door, hoisted me in, jogged around the front, and got in behind the wheel.

He was pulling away when he told me. “Someone broke into your house.”

“What?”

“As soon as Weston saw someone was on your porch, he went straight over…”

I could no longer hear what Jameson was saying because all that I could concentrate on was that someone was in my house. The word echoed in my head and I couldn’t believe it. No one would break into my house. I didn’t live in a community where people stole from each other.

“Babe? Are you listening to me?”

“No.”

“Hopefully they’re still in there when Weston gets there.”

“Hopefully? That’s dangerous. He could get hurt.”

I was looking at Jameson in profile but I saw his jaw clench, obviously displeased.

“Don’t worry about him, he’s a big boy, he can handle himself.”

“I’m sure he can. But I don’t want anyone getting hurt on my account.”

“Anyone, or just him?”

“What?”

“Never mind. We’re headed to the office to wait for his call. When we have the all-clear I’ll take you over there. Or if you prefer, Weston can come and get you and take you himself.”

“What does that mean?”

“Exactly what I said.”

“Why are we talking about Weston when you just told me my house is being robbed?”

“We’re not talking about Weston, we’re talking about how you want to handle the situation.”

“And why would you think I’d want Weston to take me home? Or better question is, why would you care?”

He didn’t answer. Instead, he parked in front of Fountain Park and cut the engine. He remained silent when he got out and made his way to my side of the truck. And further he didn’t say a word when he helped me down and grabbed my hand again and yanked me to follow.

I would’ve protested all of this if I wasn’t shocked someone broke into my house, and confused by his odd behavior. He unlocked a door between the distillery that had recently opened and a clothing store that had opened before I was born. We were halfway up the steep staircase when I pulled him to a stop.

“Am I in danger?”