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So, instead, he gave her the truth.
“My parents have been married for fifty-five years. My dad is an eternal optimist; my mother is not. Some people say opposites attract, and that’s true in my parent’s case. My mom struggles with depression, made worse since my brother’s death. My father is a saint. He deals with a lot, but he’s there for her every minute of every day. That’s partnership if I ever saw it.”
Becky’s eyes softened. “What happened to your brother?”
He met her gaze. “Overdose. Heroin.”
Her face fell. “I’m so sorry. I’ve seen more of that than I’ve ever wanted. It’s no secret that Sloan’s hosts a tough crowd, but my dad was so strict with us—I have three brothers too. They are all in finance, two live in Boston and one in Manhattan. My dad grew up without much, but he made sure all of his kids were educated and got out of this town. If we were at Sloan’s, we were working. We were never permitted to hang out here.”
“I like your father,” Jackson said as his eyes lifted to the man himself. Damon carried two plates toward them and Jackson salivated at the sight, but Damon’s demeanor was not as tempting. Damon didn’t need to speak a word; this dinner was not one he approved of.
Jackson ignored it. He wasn’t here to cause trouble—at least not for Becky—and if his hunch was correct, he’d eventually be helping Damon, though the man would definitely lose some patrons.
“Becky, you’ve got a call at the bar,” he said.
Her eyebrows threaded together. “Really?” she asked, but she stood when her father tilted his head toward the bar.
Damon slid into her seat as she walked away.
“I don’t know what you’re doing here. If you think I don’t recognize you from your altercation with Diaz a few nights ago, you’re wrong. I’ve spent my life memorizing faces, and I remember yours.”
“I’m not here to cause trouble,” Jackson said, meeting his eyes.
Damon studied him for a long moment. “Eat your dinner and leave before nine, whenhecomes in.”
Jackson nodded and appreciated the heads-up. “You have my word.”
Damon looked at him another moment, his expression unreadable. He got up and left without another word.
Becky returned a moment later. “Sorry about that.” She didn’t offer an explanation, and he didn’t ask for one.
He took a bite of his juicy burger, his stomach singing with delight. “Your chef needs a raise,” he said appreciatively.
“The chef is my mother. I’ll pass on your feedback,” she said with a soft smile.
“Any more family members here tonight?” he joked. “So, you grew up with three brothers, huh? That’s why you’re tough.”
Her eyes sparkled. She leaned forward. “I’m tough, I’m smart... and most men seem intimidated by that. But not you.”
“Why should I be?” he asked coyly. “I’m my father’s son. I like partnership and I want a strong woman to play with.”
Her eyes locked on his. “Is that so?” she asked, biting her lip.
“It is,” he said, holding her gaze. In any other circumstance, he would’ve given Becky his number—she was truly the kind of woman he liked to date.
A pang of guilt twisted in his stomach. He was using her to glean information, and he felt a tiny bit bad about it.
But not bad enough to stop.
ANNA
“What is he doing?” she asked.
“Dining my daughter,” Damon answered. “Who is this guy, Anna?”
“A guy I met a few weeks ago. He’s persistent, I’ll give him that,” she said, the words like soap on her tongue. Everything she’d said was true, but she’d omitted the part Damon really needed to know: he was a federal agent.
But telling Damon that would only put him in danger. In their world, the less you knew the better.
