Jackson (The Love Family Series Book 8)
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Authors: Kate Allenton
JACKSON
Kate Allenton
Copyright © 2016 Kate Allenton
All rights reserved.
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This book is a work of fiction. Names, character, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or use fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locals or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
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Published by Coastal Escape Publishing
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TABLE OF CONTENTS
Scarlett Denton’s eyes darted to each stranger she passed, her body strung tight with nerves as she quickened her pace. Salvatore was a wanted criminal, and she had offered herself up like a porterhouse steak to a starving man. Her skin prickled with that odd sensation of being watched. The hovering mist clung to her arms and cloaked the moon in the night sky. It was a perfect night to dump a body or two.
This wasn’t her first mob boss, but he’d be her last. Serial killers and drug kings would have to find a new voice for their audacities. This was her final hurrah, and thanks to Salvatore, her one-way ticket to the best sellers list. Getting a criminal to talk, who wasn’t already behind bars, was nearly impossible in her line of work. Fifteen more minutes until she had her proof.
Scarlett ducked inside the dark little club and came face to chest with the seven-foot wall of muscles and tattoos that always greeted her at the door. Just-Call-Me-Johnny and his permanent scowl stood waiting.
“You’re late.”
“Do you ever get the feeling you are being watched?” Scarlett grabbed a napkin from the bar and ran it down her arms, taking a two-second reprieve to compose herself. Cigar smoke drifted through the room along with the smell of…chicken. And not the chicken from her fear. It was the scent of food being cooked nearby.
“Were you followed?” Johnny stormed to the front window.
Scarlett shrugged. “How the hell would I know? I doubled back, per your instructions, but couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was watching my every move. I’m probably just being paranoid. It’s not every day I’m summoned to meet someone like your boss.”
Johnny grunted and grabbed her elbow, escorting Scarlett directly through the lions’ den toward where the biggest, most deadly predator waited behind closed doors. The fluorescent lights flickered, and her chest tightened, making it difficult to breathe. Five men in suits sat around the table with shots of whiskey, exchanging cash. Were they taking bets about how long she’d last, or if she’d make it out alive?
Johnny rapped his knuckles on the closed door before opening it and stepping out of the way. He ushered her in and slammed the door behind her. She cringed. She either had balls of steel or was stupid as shit for agreeing to this arrangement. When, and if, she walked out alive, she’d have her answer.
The office was dark. The only illumination came from a lamp on the desk. It made sense. Scary things hid in the dark.
“Ms. Denton. Please come in and have a seat.”
A shiver skirted down her spine, twisting her stomach into knots. Scarlett plastered on a tight-lipped smile and eased into the chair closest to the door. “You need a better maintenance crew to fix your lights.”
Salvatore chuckled and retook his seat. “Scarlett. Our deals are done in the dark for a reason.”
“As long as they don’t include shooting me and dumping my body, then your secrets are safe with me.”
Scarlett scooted to the edge of the chair, a few inches closer to a quick escape. Her satchel sat next to her feet, within quick reaching distance. She clutched the notepad in one hand and had her pen hovering above the blank page. “Are you ready to tell me your story?”
Writing true crime was a dangerous business. Untangling the web of a criminal’s mind gave her a mental high that was slowly losing its appeal. Like a druggie needing a quick fix, each criminal and story aged her; her innocence had been destroyed and beaten like the roach she’d squashed that morning.
Salvatore steepled his fingers. His stylish hair was combed back with gel. He was a good-looking man, if deadly crazy men were her thing. They weren’t. His dark gaze held hers. His silence was deafening. “You weren’t my first choice for writing this story.”
Was this guy for real? The jackass had contacted her and baited her with praise of her previous books. He’d cast his net and she’d gone willingly into the trap.
“If I’m not your first choice, then why did you ask me here?” Scarlett’s voice squeaked. Not the tone she’d been going for. She shoved the notepad into her satchel and rose. Her heart thumped like a battering ram against a steel door. Her hour of playing Cagney and Lacey, by trying not to be followed, was wasted.
“Sit.”
What did he think she was? A dog? Uh-uh, no way. Showing up was a mistake. Putting her life on the line was just pure stupid. Getting out while she still could? Now that plan made sense. His reluctance was a blessing in disguise. Scarlett crossed her arms over her chest and lifted her chin. “You told me you’d give me a story. If you’re not, then there’s no reason for me to stay, so I’ll just be on my way.”
Salvatore’s lips twisted at the corners. Her body froze. That smirk scared her, more than the gun sitting on his desk. He reached into his top drawer.
Scarlett held her breath and braced herself for anything.
He pulled out a file and slid it across the mahogany surface. “Please, sit, and I’ll explain.”
Her gaze zoned in on the manila file. The secrets inside taunted her curiosity. Were her answers inside? Had he made notes for her? Scarlett sat, grabbed the file, and flipped it open.
A single picture stared up at her, making her grip tighten. Her eyes narrowed, unlike those of her younger self, so bright, shining, and so naive in the family photo. The problem was, it didn’t show her family. She’d been included in the photo taken of the family of her best friend, Alexis Love.
“We had to know we could trust you.” Salvatore rose. “Judging from your relationship with those in the picture, I understand that you’re good at keeping secrets.”
Fire licked through Scarlett’s veins, heating her from the inside out. Salvatore might be a drug lord, but he was screwing with the wrong person, and with the people she loved. What was this asshole’s end game, and what the hell did he know about the Loves’ secrets?
“Where did you get this picture, and what does it have to do with whether or not you can trust me?” she demanded, her voice strong and sure.
Salvatore grinned. “You don’t get to where I am without being able to find out secrets. You’re here to write a story, only it’s not my story you’ll be writing.”
“No?” She held his gaze, unwilling to back down.
“No. The story you’ll be writing is much more delicate and intriguing than mine.”
“Not possible.” She crossed her arms, the picture still in her grasp. No way she was leaving it behind.
“I assure you it is.”
“Whose story is it?”
“It’s mine,” a soft female voice announced from the corner of the room that was covered in darkness.
Scarlett jumped from her seat and spun in the direction of the voice. A petite woman stepped into the light.
“Forgive our deceit. We had to make sure you weren’t compromised by the feds.”
“How do you know I’m not?” Crap. She might as well have painted a big sign that read
Kill me now
on her chest. Annoyance stirred in her belly as she looked the eavesdropping intruder over. Quickly dismissing her, she turned back to the condescending prick that had ruined her plans. Scarlett tightened the grip on her notepad.
“We’ve….He’s...had his men tailing you and monitoring your phones to make sure that you’re not. Obviously, he trusts you.”
Scarlett’s mouth parted. His actions were wrong on so many levels plus freakin’ illegal. Luckily, for her, her genius roommate was smarter than the average crook, and she should be. She had Salvatore’s genes. They were on to his surveillance but not this new turn. “You’ve been watching me?”
Salvatore laced his fingers and cocked his brow. “It was a necessary evil.”
Her stomach knotted like a ball of rubber bands on the verge of exploding. “And what if I’d said I wouldn’t write your book?”
“You’re inquisitive, Ms. Denton. You wouldn’t have said no.”
Did anyone ever tell this guy no? Regardless of the outcome, she was about to be the first. Scarlett pressed her lips together, slipped her notepad into her satchel, and picked it up. “I guess we’re done here.” She gave a nod to Salvatore. “You may lie and deceive people, but I’m not your pawn. I don’t even know this lady.” She glanced toward the woman. “No offense, but you’re a stranger to me.”
“I wasn’t?” Salvatore asked.
Scarlett smirked. Salvatore needed a taste of his own medicine. She’d promised not to bring up what Megan and she had found. But every second that passed deemed it impossible. Megan could forgive her. Maybe? His kink in her plans changed more than the playing field. It changed the entire game. “Like you,”—she gestured toward the family picture—“I did a little digging of my own.” Scarlett slipped a postcard from the side pocket of her satchel and handed it to him.
Salvatore’s brows dipped, and his nostrils flared.
Eat that
.
The postcard was a replica of a famous image that Megan had painted. “Your daughter says hello and asked that you keep your merry band of thugs out of our apartment.” Scarlett pulled out the listening bugs they’d found stashed around the apartment and tossed them onto his desk. “I’m not naïve, Salvatore. I agreed to meet with you, but I’d be stupid not to have a backup plan in the event I had an unexplainable…accident.”
The tension in the air grew thick and choking. His raised brow and twitching li
p
surprised her. “My girl is smart. I had no idea she’d figured out that I’m her father.”
“Smart is an understatement, and in the event I go missing, she’ll tell the cops exactly where I was last.”
The woman from the shadows stepped between them. “Ms. Denton, you aren’t writing Salvatore’s story. Aren’t you the least bit curious about who I am and what I have to say?”
Scarlett’s grip on the satchel tightened, holding it in front of her as if it would shield her from whatever they threw in her direction. She met the woman’s gaze. Her blonde hair was coifed to perfection. Her black designer dress suit was crisp and wrinkle free. She wore a smidgen of makeup, but this woman didn’t need it. Did Scarlett really care what her story entailed? A relationship gone wrong? Misguided trust? Been there, done that. Those stories were overused and overplayed. Yet something about the worry lines around this woman’s eyes begged for an answer. “Sorry, I currently only write true crime.”
“My story contains true crime, only I’m not the criminal, and I’m giving you the option of exposing the bad guy.”
Now that sounded like something she could work with. If this lady could deliver, Scarlett might get exactly what she’d come for and more. “Okay, I’ll bite. Who are you, and why is your story important?”
The woman slipped out an identification wallet and handed it to Scarlett. She recognized the type instantly. Scarlett ran her fingers over the old leather indented in the shape of a badge. Jackson had shown her an identical one when he started working with the FBI. Scarlett flipped the wallet open and stared down at the silver badge and FBI identification. “Special Agent Rosie McIntire?”
“Jackson Love and I trained together at the Bureau, and he’s the reason I chose you.”
This woman had dated intel. Scarlett hadn’t seen or heard from Jackson in three years. “What does Jackson have to do with this?”
“You’re good at keeping secrets. I’m hoping I can trust you with mine.”
“I’m afraid to tell you, but if you want me to write the book, everyone will find out your secret.”
Rosie blushed. “I didn’t think anyone but you would believe what I have to say. So I stole the proof, and I’m willing to give it to you.”
An FBI agent turned thief. Now they were getting somewhere.
The door creaked open behind them, and Just-Call-Me-Johnny Johnny poked his head inside. “Boss…we have a problem.”
Salvatore strode to the door. “Excuse me, ladies; you can proceed without me. I already know Rosie’s story.” He closed the door behind him, leaving them alone.
The urge to follow him to get a look at the problem kept Scarlett eyeing the door.
Scarlett handed the badge back to Rosie. “You still haven’t told me how your story is any more intriguing than his.”
Rosie slipped her ID back into her pocket. Scarlett spotted the silver glint of the gun hidden beneath her coat. “I have to admit that what I have to tell you will most likely put you in danger. I won't blame you if you change your mind after hearing what I have to say.”
Just being here puts me in danger.
Scarlett remained silent.
“Salvatore and I go way back. We’re old childhood friends. I had reservations about coming to him. I work for an organization that would like to see him rot in jail, but he was the only one that I trusted to help me.”
Rogue thief FBI agent consorting with the enemy? This just kept getting better. “Help you what? You still haven’t told me.”
“My story starts with a missing person case. Two men abducted a man in broad daylight from his apartment. My job entailed finding him.”
“And did you?”
“Not at first. The case went cold, but eventually, I did, and I discovered something more disturbing than anything I could have imagined.”
Voices shouted from the other room. Rosie quit talking and pulled out her gun.
What was this? A drug raid? Had Rosie double-crossed Salvatore? Butterflies swarmed like a wasps having their nest poked at by a bored teen. “Who’s here?”
“Shh.” Rosie grabbed Scarlett’s arm and pulled her behind Salvatore’s desk. She pushed a button on the computer screen, and it flickered to life.
A security feed of the front room filled the screen. Five new men stood in the club. All the players had guns pointed at each other in a standoff. Scarlett covered her mouth with her hand. Her blood turned cold and her body froze.
“Is this for real?”
Rosie hit a button beneath the desk.
“What are you doing?”
“Getting us out of here.” A bookcase slid to the side, revealing a secret hallway. Impressive. The mobster was thinking ahead, but she was more surprised that the FBI agent knew the secret.
Rosie ushered Scarlett to the opening. “Yeah, okay, you’ve got my attention.”
“We’re just here for the girl,” an unfamiliar voice demanded from the other side of the door. “Send her out and no one gets hurt.”
Which girl? Scarlett’s breath hitched. The hair on her arms and neck prickled.
Gunfire erupted, and the last thread holding the ball of rubber bands together snapped.
“Run.” Rosie grabbed Scarlett’s hand and pulled her into the dimly lit hallway at a full-out run. Scarlett glanced over her shoulder and stumbled. The voices grew louder and closer. Rosie stopped at the exit and tried to push it open, jiggling the locked door.
Open, open, open
. It didn’t budge. “Crap.”
I’m not dying here.
Scarlett frantically helped Rosie open the other doors. One finally opened, and Rosie grabbed Scarlett and ushered her through. Scarlett’s mouth felt like sandpaper as she tried to swallow and digest where they had entered.
They’d come out the other side in a restaurant’s kitchen. Kitchen utensils clanked on the floor as the cooks stared at them. Rosie busted out of the kitchen door, knocking a waiter over. His tray of dirty dishes crashed to the floor. All eyes in the restaurant turned in their direction. At least if Scarlett died now, someone might ID her.
“Act casual, and not like we’re running from killers.”
As if that were possible. A scream bubbled in her throat to warn these people about the men down the hall. The same trigger-happy men chasing them. Rosie gripped Scarlett’s elbow. Her fingernails dug a rut into her bare skin.
“I forgot my satchel.” Scarlett’s mind raced to remember if anything inside the bag could lead the shooters back to her.
Rosie and Scarlett hit the street. Their pace quickened as they entered the side alley between the buildings. “You’ve got your purse.” Rosie gestured to the purse sliding off Scarlett’s shoulder. “Do you have cash?”
“Yeah.”
“Good, you’re going to need it to lie low.” Rosie pulled out a key and handed it to Scarlett. “Five nineteen. If anything happens to me, everything you need to know is in 519.”
Scarlett slipped the key into her bra. “Who the hell were those guys and what is 519?”
“A locker number. I’ll explain the rest when we’re safe,” Rosie whispered as she slowed at the end of the alley, approaching the adjacent street behind the building. She glanced both ways. The fog had dissipated while she’d been meeting with Salvatore. Any hope for Mother Nature providing cover had diminished. People walked by hand in hand. Music from a nearby club drifted to her ears as lights from the traffic shined in her eyes. Rosie gestured toward a parking garage across the street. “My car is over there.”
Rosie’s body jolted forward. Her hand went to her chest. She lifted her bloody fingers to her face. “It’s too late.” Rosie shoved Scarlett out into the street before she fell to her knees. “Run.”
Scarlett ran without looking back, trying to dodge the oncoming lights. Her chest heaved as a car passed. She’d almost cleared another lane when a new set of headlights blinded her.
A horn blared as metal crashed into her legs, sending her body crashing into a windshield. Her head smashed against the car’s frame. Every bone in her body hurt as her vision blurred. No, no, no. This wasn’t happening, not here, not yet. The wind whipped through her hair as she tried to push herself up. Pain shot through her back.
Tires squealed, and Scarlett’s body flew through the air, crashing hard to land on the pavement.
Someone yelled, his words a garbled mess thanks to the ringing in her ears. This was a crappy way to die. Scarlett’s eyes fluttered closed.