Chapter Nineteen
023
Jackson was through the door the second he heard Nicky cry out, cursing himself for letting her stay outside so long. He’d gotten the call from the van five minutes ago. Everything had gone according to plan and Christian was already on his way to get Abby. There was no reason to leave Nicky alone with that waste of human flesh a second longer.
But he’d wanted to let her handle the situation, show her he believed she was strong enough to manage Derrick alone. After all, he was going to Miami in a few days. He wouldn’t be here to help her anymore. She’d have to stand on her own.
But she’ll have a restraining order by then, jackass.
He was a jackass, and now Nicky was going to have the bruises to prove it. Some dom he was, letting another man get his hands around his submissive’s throat.
Jackson charged toward where Derrick had Nicky backed against the brick wall of the club with his fist raised. He’d warned the bastard he’d make him bleed if he hurt Nick. Now he was going to prove he was a man of his word.
“Jackson, wait,” Nicky shouted as she shoved her ex-husband’s hands from her throat. Derrick slumped forward, collapsing against her. “I think he’s passed out or— Ohmygod.”
Derrick suddenly began to shake, his entire body jerking like he’d stuck his hand in a light socket. He fell to the ground, still convulsing, eyes rolling back in his head.
“What’s happening?” Nicky flattened herself against the wall, staring with wide eyes at the man at her feet.
Jackson reached over the twitching body and grabbed Nicky under the arms, lifting her over her ex. “Go, tell the woman at the desk to call 911.”
She nodded and turned to race toward the door, but not before Jackson saw the red swelling on her left cheek. The bastard had hit her. She’d have a bruise tomorrow at the very least, if not a full-on black eye. The knowledge would have been enough to make him knock Derrick out— if he hadn’t been out cold already.
“Piece of shit,” Jackson muttered as he knelt by the other man, who was finally lying still. A check of his pulse revealed he was still alive— unfortunately— though his heart was racing like he’d just run a marathon, not spent a few minutes slapping around his wife. The speeding pulse didn’t seem natural for a young man who looked to be in fairly good shape. Neither did the cold, clammy skin.
His suspicions were confirmed when he gently pried open Derrick’s eyes and found them bloodshot and his pupils widely dilated. He’d been on something, probably cocaine if Jackson had to guess. That would certainly explain the racing heart and the out-of-control temper.
“What happened? Is he dead?” A man in a suit whom Jackson had seen roaming the club earlier rushed out the door with Nicky close behind. “I’m Blake, the owner.”
“I told him we were. . . having an argument and he just started shaking and collapsed,” Nicky said, staying back a few paces as Blake came to stand just behind Jackson.
“I think he had a seizure, or maybe a stroke. Probably drug-induced. I’m a tattoo artist. By law we’re not supposed to work on anyone who’s been using, so I’ve learned to read the signs.” Jackson stood. “He’s still breathing and his pulse is strong, if a little accelerated. I don’t think there’s much we can do for him until the paramedics arrive.”
“Drugs?” Nicky asked. “Derrick’s been using drugs?”
“Son of a bitch. I thought he looked bad tonight, but I didn’t want to say anything.” Blake sighed and shook his head. “He usually keeps it at a respectable level, and he’s never brought anything into the club.”
“So Derrick has been on drugs before?”
“I’ve only known him a few months, but yeah, he seems to have a pretty decent coke habit,” Blake said.
“A habit. While he was supposed to be taking care of an eleven-month-old.” Nicky cursed, glaring at the man at her feet like she’d like to kick his prone body. “I’m going to kill him.”
“You may not have to,” the club owner said, as sirens sounded in the distance. “If he’s had a stroke. . . well, it will just depend on how severe it was. I had a friend of mine, old college football buddy, died of combination stroke and heart attack from an overdose a few years back.”
“Oh, my god,” Nicky said, her voice soft as her hand flew to her mouth. “I didn’t— I don’t really want. . .”
“Of course you don’t,” Jackson said, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her close as an ambulance pulled into the parking lot. “And he might be fine. He could still live to take his beating for hitting you.”
“You saw that?” Nicky asked, the face she tilted up to his washed red from the flashing lights.
“Nope, but I saw this.” He brushed his knuckles softly over her cheek, feeling his guts twist when she winced slightly. “It made me want to kill him myself.”
“It doesn’t hurt that bad. I’ll be fine.” She lowered her voice even though Blake had already left to meet the EMTs as they jumped from the ambulance. “Is Christian on his way to get Abby?”
“He left over ten minutes ago. I should be getting a call soon. You’d better tell them what happened.” Jackson urged her to go and then watched Nicky fill in the paramedics, his mind racing.
Derrick’s unexpected collapse could either work for them or against them. If the nanny reported the baby missing the night after her employer overdosed at the same party his wife had been attending, there was a chance the police might come around, asking Nicky a bunch of unnecessary questions.
But if Christian hadn’t taken Abby yet, there might still be a way for this to end even better than they’d hoped.
His cell was out of his pocket a second later. Thankfully, Christian answered on the second ring. “Hey, do you have Abby yet?”
“Not yet,” he whispered, “but I’m on the property, so can this little conversation wait?”
“No, it can’t. Get out and go wait in your car. I’ll give you a call in a few minutes. We’ve had an unexpected development.”
“All right, you’re running this show.”
Jackson snapped the phone shut and then open again. He waited until Derrick was loaded into the ambulance and the owner vanished back into the club before he put the phone in Nicky’s hand. “Here, call the nanny. Tell her what happened and that you’re on your way to pick up Abby.”
“Christian didn’t—”
“I called him and told him the plan had changed. This will work out much better.”
“Right, of course.” Nicky shook her head as if to clear it. “I didn’t even think, but. . . this will make my case, won’t it? Even without the threats, a judge isn’t going to give custody to a man with a documented drug habit.”
“And I’d say a hospitalization for overdose is pretty good documentation.”
Nicky smiled, a weary stretch of her lips. “I wouldn’t have wished this on Derrick, but I can’t deny it feels good to know I’m not going to lose Abby again. God, when I think of what could have happened. . .” She sucked in a shaky breath. “What if she’d found drugs in the house? She sticks everything in her mouth, and it wouldn’t take much cocaine to kill a twenty-four-pound baby. I just—”
“Don’t think about it. Just make that call, then we’ll get on the road.” Jackson squeezed her hand. “You’ll be holding Abby in thirty minutes or less.”
This time, Nicky’s smile was bright enough to light the entire parking lot. It made Jackson wish he was going to be around to see that grin a hell of a lot more. He was going to miss Nicky, more than he’d thought possible, but his leaving was for the best. The events of tonight had only proved how dangerous a failed dom-sub relationship could become. Nicky would be safer without a controlling man in her life.
He was going to do his best to convince her of that on their way to pick up her daughter. If there was ever a time to bring Nicky back to the straight side of the fence, this was it.
Jackson wished the thought didn’t make him sad, but it did. Which just went to show how bad he would be for her. A man more concerned with the loss of the most complex and challenging submissive he’d ever known than with the safety of that submissive and her baby was a man with serious issues.
“Okay, we’re good to go. She said she’d have Abby’s things packed by the time we get there.” Nicky squealed and threw her arms around his neck. “She’s coming home with us, Jackson. Right now!”
“Speaking of the hotel,” Jackson said, hugging Nicky for only the briefest second before pulling away, “why don’t we run by and grab some more appropriate clothes on the way. I think it would be better if we didn’t show up in club gear.”
“Right, of course. Let’s go, then.” There was a hurt look in her eyes as she turned toward his truck, but Jackson did his best to ignore it. They both knew this had to end, no sense in pretending otherwise.
Tomorrow, he’d help Nicky and Abby get settled in Nicky’s apartment and start the necessary legal paperwork, and by the day after tomorrow he’d be on a plane on his way to Miami. Once he was there, he’d throw himself into getting the new parlor ready to open and do his best to forget he’d ever seen Nicky, let alone lost his heart to her a second time.
It wasn’t going to be easy, but he was used to living with a gaping hole in his chest. He’d been doing it for years, ever since sixteen-year-old Nicky had left Carson City.
Jackson popped the locks on the Expedition and climbed behind the wheel, tempted for a brief second to ask Nicky why she’d left all those years ago, why she’d run.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, meeting his eyes with a troubled look of her own.
“Nothing. Nothing at all.” He forced a smile and started the car. There was no sense digging into the past. Their past didn’t matter any more than their future. It was time to grow up and move on, and finally put all those old dreams behind him.