Page 49 of Jameson’s Salvation

“Good news is, it’s an easy fix. But we’re not doing it tonight. After I fix the line, someone needs to come and refill the refrigerant. We’ll head to the store now and get your mom a window unit so she doesn’t sweat her ass off tonight.”

I nodded, the side of my face rubbing against his solid chest. It didn’t take a genius to know he was angry. His body was stiff—almost vibrating with it.

“I’m glad you’re here.”

“I am, too.” He kissed the top of my head and pulled me back so he could look at me. “We’re gonna nail Reggie. In the meantime, we’re gonna keep you and your mom safe. But I think you should consider telling her what’s going on.” I started to protest but Jameson leaned down, silencing me with a quick, hard kiss before he continued. “Not right now, but just think about it. I know you don’t want her worried, but, babe, she needs to know so she can stay vigilant.”

“I hate Reggie Coleman.”

“Know that, too.”

* * *

An hour later we were back at my mom’s with two new window units. Jameson had insisted on getting one for her bedroom and one for the living room. He’d also purchased locking devices to secure the windows so they couldn’t be opened farther once the air conditioner was in the window frame.

My mom was not happy at the unsightly—her word—condensers hanging outside her house. She reserved her complaints for me and praised Jameson for his hard work, thanking him over and over again.

When we were done, we wandered back into the kitchen to say goodbye to my mom. She was standing at the counter precariously balancing on her right leg and I ground my molars. She had a walker and a cane—neither of which she was using—and I knew she wouldn’t, not in front of Jameson. And if I called her out on it, I knew she’d tell me her physical therapist told her she needed to be up and moving. Which was true, but she was supposed to use the damn support cane to help her balance.

“Won’t you stay for a glass of iced tea? I just made a fresh pitcher.” My mom smiled brightly at Jameson.

“Love to. Thank you,” Jameson answered, and my eyes cut to him.

Memories of the first time I’d met Jameson, when I, too, had offered him iced tea, flooded my mind. He’d swiftly declined my offer and fled like the hounds of hell were nipping at his ass.

I huffed and started for the counter to help my mom, when I was hauled back into Jameson’s arms.

“Babe.” He chuckled and kissed me full on the mouth in front of my mother.

Oh, shit.

I didn’t have to turn and look at my mom to know she was beaming. It filled the room right along with her hope of a spring wedding.

15

Jameson

After calling three repairmen, Jameson had finally found one that would replace Lola’s line and refill the system for a reasonable price—and more importantly he could do it that afternoon. He could’ve replaced the line himself, but decided he’d rather use the time to investigate Reggie Coleman.

The man had decided a financial attack was the best way to get to Kennedy. He was draining her resources, forcing her into ruin so he could scoop up her land. It would also compel her to take whatever shitty deal he was offering.

Jameson tossed his phone on the conference room table and went back to his laptop when Nixon filled the door frame.

“You’re in early,” Nix noted.

Jameson glanced at the clock on the corner of his screen—ten after seven wasn’t all that early but he sensed his friend had a point to make so he sat back and waited.

“How’s Kennedy?” Jameson remained quiet. Nixon’s question wasn’t really an inquiry, it was a lead-in. “You’ve been spending a lot of time with her.” There it was. But Nix had more to say so Jameson patiently waited. “You know her father was murdered.”

“I know,” Jameson finally spoke, not liking the direction of the conversation. “She told me.”

“She did?”

“Yeah, she did. She also told me she was there to witness it. And told me about her mother’s breakdown.” Jameson stopped to take a breath and held his friend’s gaze. Nixon had a point to make but so did Jameson. “She also told me about the night she got shitfaced and tried to get you to fuck her.”

Nixon’s brows hit his hairline and deep frown lines marred his face.

“She told you about that?” Nix scowled like he was remembering something dirty. “I never—”