Whatever It Takes

Titles by JM Stewart

Risking It All

Whatever It Takes

Whatever It Takes

JM Stewart

InterMix Books, New York

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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

WHATEVER IT TAKES

An InterMix Book / published by arrangement with the author

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BLISHING HISTORY

InterMix eBook edition / December 2014

Copyright © 2014 by Joanne Stewart.

Excerpt from
Risking It All
copyright © 2014 by Joanne Stewart.

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Seated behind the wheel of his Mercedes, a cold flash of fear shot through Jackson Kade, tying his stomach in knots as he peered through the windshield. He’d arrived barely a minute ago expecting to have to argue—again—with his ex-wife, Becca, about why he’d forgotten to grab their daughter’s suitcase. When he’d turned down the familiar street they lived on, he’d expected quiet. It was a neighborhood of families, and being after six p.m., most would be indoors, sitting down to dinner.

What he’d found instead scared the hell out of him. Two fire trucks took up the entire street, walled in on both ends by police squad cars parked nose to nose. Their lights glowed against the darkness, flashing red and blue over the people, houses, and cars. Beyond them, firemen swarmed the area. Their muffled shouts mingled with the crackles and pops of the blaze engulfing a house at the end of the block. For mid-January on Washington State’s west coast, the usual thick cloud cover had cleared to reveal a black sky littered with twinkling stars. The gusts of wind blowing through the trees only served to fuel the fire. Flames danced up the sides, as if daring the men to try to tame them.

Parking just beyond the police barricade, Jackson slid from the car and set his shaking hands on the cool metal roof, peering through the crowd at the house. He didn’t have to ask to know whose house that was.

“Daddy, that’s our house.” His six-year-old daughter, Allie, called to him from where she sat in the backseat. Her voice trembled with fear, and the same emotion wrapped like a vise around his chest.

Watching the flames lick at the inky sky, his mind raced, filling with horrible possibilities. Had Becca been in the house when the fire started? A half hour had passed since he’d left her at the dojo. A blaze that size surely would have started long before then. Wouldn’t it?

“I know, sweet pea, I know.” He silently cursed the mess that had brought them here in the first place.

Becca and Allie had officially moved to this neighborhood a year ago. Exactly a month after he’d sent the signed divorce papers back to Becca’s lawyer. Watching the house burn, all his frustrations rose to the surface all over again. He should have insisted Becca take their house in the divorce and let
him
move out. He’d wanted her to have the house. He’d wanted her to have his Mercedes, too. She’d turned them both down. Maybe, if he’d fought a little harder, he’d at least know she was somewhere safe, instead of lost in this godforsaken mess.

He bent his head inside the driver’s-side window and forced a smile for his daughter’s sake, praying he looked calmer than he felt. “It’ll be all right. I promise.”

“Where’s Mommy?” Tears filled her big blue eyes, and her lower lip wobbled, her fear wrenching at his gut.

“I’ll find her, sweet pea, don’t you worry now. We probably just can’t see her because of the crowd.” Frustrated, he straightened and shoved a hand through his hair, holding his bangs back, out of his eyes. Jackson looked out over the roof of his car, heart hammering in his ribs as he scanned the people lining the streets.

When he’d left Becca’s dojo a half hour ago—their arranged meeting place for exchanging Allie—he’d been completely distracted, as usual. The sight of her always set him on edge, filling him with a deep regret he had yet to shake. He’d grabbed Allie’s hand and left, desperate to be anywhere but with the unbearable pain seated between them. He’d gotten all the way home before realizing he’d forgotten Allie’s weekend suitcase. He’d had to backtrack, only to discover Becca had already gone home. Her dojo had been locked, the lights out.

So, he’d come here. Most of the neighborhood residents appeared to be littering the sidewalks, some of them no doubt tossed from their homes by the firefighters desperately trying to keep the fire from spreading. Now he cursed the sea of people. If there weren’t so damn many, Becca might be easier to find. As it was, she was lost in this crowd.

“Do you see her, Daddy?”

He flashed a smile but couldn’t stop the panic from seizing his chest. “Not yet, sweet pea. She’s here, somewhere. Remember? We passed her car.”

“Jackson!”

He jerked his head toward the sound of his name. Emily Matthews, Becca’s elderly neighbor, headed his way, hobbling as fast as her legs could carry her and leaning heavily on her cane. By the time she reached him, she was breathless and stopped for a moment to press her hand to her chest.

“Have you seen Becca?” Her eyes were as round as Allie’s and filled with as much worry. “She hasn’t been home yet.”

Her news only tightened the vise around his chest.

“No. I’m afraid I haven’t seen her since I picked up Allie half an hour ago. I passed Becca’s car about a block down, so I know she’s here somewhere.” He opened the rear door of his sedan, then turned to touch the old woman’s shoulder. “If you’ll stay with Allie—”

Before he’d even finished his thought, the old woman was waving at him and moving around the door.

“Go, go. Please. I’ll never rest until I know she’s all right. I’ve found everybody else on the block but her.” She plopped unceremoniously onto the backseat with Allie and let out a huffing breath. “I’ll stay with Allie. You go.”

“Bless you.” He touched the old woman’s shoulder, then bent down to meet Allie’s gaze. “You stay here with Mrs. Matthews, sweet pea. I need to go find your momma, all right?”

Her bottom lip popped out, but she nodded. “Okay.”

“Good girl.” He moved around his car, stepping up to the police barricade. The uniformed officer standing guard shook his head. “Sorry, buddy, nobody past this point.”

Frustrated, Jackson waved a hand in the direction of the burning house. “That’s my ex-wife’s house.”

The officer shook his head again. “Sorry, pal, too dangerous.”

Jackson swore under his breath and turned, scanning another crowd of people. A flash of white from the corner of his eye snapped his attention to the tail end of an unmarked police car, parked just ahead of the blockade. A stubborn set of feminine shoulders, a blond ponytail waving in the slight breeze, brushing against a long, slender neck. The breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding whooshed from his lungs as relief flooded him. Becca!

She and her brother Kyle, a detective with the Puyallup Police Department, stood beside the car, watching the scene before them.

Jackson eyed the uniformed officer again and nodded, gesturing toward where Becca stood with Kyle. “That’s my ex-wife. Over there. With Detective Morgan.”

The officer turned, following Jackson’s gaze, then cupped a hand to his mouth. “Morgan!”

Kyle and Becca both pivoted. Jackson held his breath. She looked all right. The stark white of her uniform indicated she hadn’t been in the house when the fire started. She wasn’t alone, either, thank the good Lord.

The uniformed officer shouted over the noise, jerking his head in Jackson’s direction. “You know this guy?”

“Brother-in-law.” Kyle nodded, voice raised over the din, and held out a hand, making a “come-here” gesture with his fingers. “He’s good. Let him come.”

The officer beside Jackson met his gaze again and smiled. “Go ahead.”

Jackson breathed a sigh of relief and touched his shoulder. “Thank you.” Then he turned to the car and motioned for Allie to roll down her window. Once she did, he leaned inside, tossing a relieved smile between her and Mrs. Matthews. “I found her. I’ll be right back. I’m going to go get her.”

Big, fat tears filled Allie’s eyes, hovering in the corners. “I want to go, too. I want to see Mommy.”

He touched her cheek. “I know you do, sweetheart, but there’s too much going on out here. I don’t want to lose you in this crowd. I need to know you’re safe, too, all right?” He turned and pointed across the street. “You can see her over there. See the car with the police lights in the window?”

She sniffled and nodded. “That’s Uncle Kyle’s car.”

He stroked a hand over her head, then straightened. “That’s right. He’ll keep her safe. I promise, sweat pea, but I need you to stay here, all right?”

“’K.” She turned her head, aiming those big, wide eyes at him again. “Are we gonna live with you now, Daddy?”

If I have my way.
He hadn’t contested Becca in the divorce settlement. Too heartbroken and filled with an avalanche of regret, all he’d wanted to do was make her happy. He’d given her everything she wanted. In return, she’d agreed to joint custody. The thought of her living anywhere but with him, though, had felt flat-out wrong. If he had to fight her on it, he would, but Allie, at the very least would be coming home with him.

He offered Allie a gentle smile. “I don’t know, sweetheart. Depends on what your momma wants to do. Stay here.”

She nodded again, and he took off across the street at a jog. As he made his way toward her, Becca folded her arms, her shoulders stiffening.

Kyle inclined his head in greeting as he approached. “Hey, Jackson.”

“Hey.” He nodded in return, then turned his gaze to Becca. Close enough now to see all of her, he scanned her from head to toe. “You weren’t in there when it started, were you?”

Becca shook her head. “No.”

“So you’re all right?”

If at all possible, her back stiffened further. Her throat bobbed, though, and tears hovered at the edges of her lashes. In her left hand, tucked beneath her arm, she clutched several tattered tissues. “I’m fine. The fire department was already here when I arrived. Kyle was the one who alerted me to it. He called me at the dojo just after you left.”

Relief slammed into him, and the tension that had been holding him up since he arrived a few minutes ago finally eased. The divorce had been difficult, but little by little, he was coming to accept that their lives were going down separate paths now. A world without her in it at all, though, didn’t have any meaning. Her death wasn’t a concept he wanted to ponder.

Kyle tucked his hands in his pockets. “We were just discussing where she and Allie would live until she could find a new place. I told her they’d be more than welcome with me and Ceci. It’s a big house. There’s plenty of room.”

Kyle and his wife, Cecelia—Ceci, as they all called her—hadn’t even been married a year yet. Their daughter, Katie, was four months old. An adorable little bundle with quite a set of lungs on her.

“That’s a very generous offer, Kyle, but it won’t be necessary.” He turned his gaze to Becca and took a moment to carefully compose his words in his head before he said them. She wouldn’t like them. “My wife and daughter will be coming home with me.”

The very notion left him tied in knots. He’d only
just
gotten used to living alone again. Used to the silence echoing through the empty house. Now here he was, volunteering to bring her back, but damned if he’d let her stay anywhere else. Maybe she wasn’t his anymore, but the thought that he could’ve lost her had his heart tied in knots. He needed her and Allie where he knew they’d be safe.

Becca froze, so still even the soft rise and fall of her chest seemed to halt. He counted ten heartbeats before she moved again. She dropped her arms to her sides, and her hands curled into fists.

Oh, here it comes.
Jackson tried to prepare himself for the tongue-lashing sure to follow and squelched the desire to simply pick her up and cart her off. He was damn tempted. Hell, it would be a sight easier than arguing with her. But he knew better. If he so much as tried, he’d no doubt lose a vital part of his anatomy. As a third-degree black belt, she had the skills. Becca owned the dojo where Allie took lessons. She’d opened the place the same year they’d met, teaching others the skills she’d learned. He’d seen firsthand what she was capable of. So, he shoved his hands in his pockets.

Becca glared at him. “How very arrogant of you, Jackson. I’m your
ex
-wife, in case you’ve forgotten, and the last place I want to live is with you.”

His heart clenched. Oh, he hadn’t forgotten. He’d thought of little else since their divorce finalized. Determined not to let her put him off, he pulled a hand from his pocket and scratched the side of his head. He hated having to match wits with her. Hated arguing with her, period. If he didn’t play his cards right, though, Allie would be living somewhere else, and damn it, he wanted her home. Maybe it would only be for a short time, but Christ, he’d missed her. So, he’d play the only card he had. “I don’t see as y’all have much choice.”

“Wrong.” Her eyes narrowed to thin slits, all but spitting fire at him. “I have four options. Three brothers and a mother.”

“Really? Last I heard, your mother is living in a tiny one-bedroom apartment. Y’all’d be tripping over each other. Kyle and Ceci are not only newlyweds, but new parents as well. With Malia and Evan’s new little one, they now have six people livin’ in their tiny little house. Divorced or not, my job is to take care of you and our daughter.” And he would, whether she liked it or not. He’d failed them once. He’d been a lousy husband all around, and letting her go had been the worst mistake of his life, but he couldn’t change the past. He’d be damned if he’d fail them now.

She jerked her head off to the right, turning to scan the area. “What’re you doing here, anyway? Where’s Allie?”

He sighed and straightened, jerking a thumb over his left shoulder. “In the car across the street, where I know she’s—”

“You left her alone?” Right on cue, she drew her brows together, worry and disbelief dancing in her eyes. She lifted onto her toes and peered through the crowd in the direction he’d indicated.

His chest constricted. Why hadn’t he expected that? “Give me some credit, darlin’. Your neighbor, Mrs. Matthews, offered to watch her so I wouldn’t have to drag her through this mess. Your neighbor is very worried about you. Said she hasn’t seen you all day. Wave at your daughter. She’s scared out of her mind.”

Becca’s words had hit their intended target—his insecurities as a father. He hadn’t had the best role models growing up. He hadn’t been raised with the same loving hand Becca had. He grew up in Savannah, Georgia, brought up by parents who gave him wealth and privilege by the bucketsful, but who were too busy to bother with him. He was raised by the hired help. His parents, what little he saw of them, didn’t “do” displays of affection, physical or otherwise.