Chapter Eleven
015
Nicky indulged in a full body stretch, luxuriating in the softness of Jackson’s featherbed. Her body ached in all sorts of forgotten places, but it was the soreness along her jaw muscles that shocked her the most. When was the last time she’d smiled so much it made her face hurt? Had that ever happened?
But then why shouldn’t she be smiling?
A few feet away, a gorgeous man who had made her come twice in the shower and two more times once they’d stumbled into his bedroom was digging through his suitcase and making noises about cooking tortellini for dinner. Every once in a while, he turned around to smile at her as he plucked jeans and a tight brown sweater from the neatly folded clothes in his bag and pulled them on, the look in his eyes leaving no doubt that he loved her.
He loved her. Jackson still loved her, and wanted them to have a future together.
The thought was exhilarating. . . and completely terrifying. Despite the fact that she felt the same way about him and he seemed to be everything she’d ever wanted in a partner, there was still that shred of doubt.
What would he do when he found out the mess she’d gotten herself into with her ex? No matter how much he loved her, she was betting it would be hard for Jackson to respect her knowing she’d willingly turned her entire life over to a man she’d barely known for six months before they were married. He would think she was a complete fool. Hell, she thought she was a fool, so she couldn’t really blame him.
And even if he could look past her poor decisions, what would Jackson do when he found out she wasn’t flying solo anymore? That she came with extra baggage in the form of a nearly one-year-old little girl?
Would he still want her when he found out the truth? And even if he did, would he be able to really love another man’s child? Nicky couldn’t imagine living with and loving a man who couldn’t love her little girl as much as she did. And if that meant she was destined to be alone for the rest of her life, so be it. When she finally got her daughter back, she was going to make whatever sacrifices were necessary to ensure Abby had the happy, healthy, idealistic childhood she and Jackson hadn’t.
Even if that meant giving up her second chance with the man of her dreams.
“I’m going down to start supper,” Jackson said, turning back to her with a pile of clothes in his large hands. Nicky hurried to force a smile back to her face, not wanting him to see the direction her thoughts had been taking. “I brought you jeans, a sweater, and a long-sleeve T-shirt for underneath. In case the sweater’s itchy. Size two on the jeans and small on everything else. Is that about right?”
“That’s perfect.” She took the clothes from his hands, marveling at the softness of the pale blue sweater. It was obviously very expensive, which made her a little sad. She’d been with Derrick for years and he’d never spent money on clothes for her. Pricey lingerie, yes, but those had been more for his pleasure than her own.
“Just about perfect.” Jackson reached out and tucked a piece of hair behind her ear with a smile. “A little skinny, but I think I can remedy that. I’m a pretty decent cook if I do say so myself.”
“You’re an amazing cook, but you can’t fatten me up until I get some modeling work first. I’ve got bills to pay, my friend, and people prefer their models bony.”
“What people? I think most men would like to see a little more meat on a woman’s bones. Especially a lingerie model’s.” He smiled and moved toward the stairs. “Besides, I’ve got enough money to take care of your bills. Don’t worry about it.”
“Jackson,” Nicky said, waiting until he stopped and turned back to her before continuing. “I don’t want you to pay my bills. I care about you and I love submitting to you, but I’ve learned there are aspects of my life that I need to be in control of myself.”
He nodded. “Understood. But just know I’d love to help you if you decide to take me up on the offer,” he said, the matter clearly dismissed. “Now hurry up and get dressed. I’m going to put you to work chopping vegetables— can’t have you thinking you’ll be waited on every meal.”
“Yes, sir.” Nicky smiled and made a show of leaping out of the bed and scrambling into her jeans, making Jackson laugh before he headed down the stairs.
As soon as he was gone, however, she felt her spirits deflate and sank back down onto the bed.
The fact that he’d so easily understood what had been a huge point of contention early in her marriage to Derrick just made her more anxious. Jackson really was the man she’d been dreaming about, the type of dom who understood that being in control of a submissive didn’t have to mean taking charge of absolutely every aspect of her life. She just knew he’d never try to make her sign the kind of contract Derrick had, the one that gave the dominant partner complete control over his submissive’s finances as well as everything else. Men like Jackson didn’t need that kind of stranglehold on another person to feel in control.
“Right, and how stupid is he going to think you are for agreeing to sign something like that in the first place?” Nicky dropped her face into her hands with a sigh. When had this weekend become so complicated? She had a gift for getting herself in impossible situations.
This isn’t impossible, just impractical and crazy and probably doomed from the start.
Damned inner voice. No sense in sitting around listening to it prophesy certain disaster.
Nicky stood and shrugged on the long-sleeved tee and sweater— which was one hundred percent angora from Neiman Marcus, so her expensive vibes had been right on the money— and headed to the bathroom to try to do something with her hair.
She worked a little of Jackson’s gel through the still-damp curls and then dug through her purse for some lipstick and mascara, determined to look as good as possible considering she had few of her usual weapons of beautification. She wanted to look pretty for Jackson, to just relax and enjoy the rest of their time at the cabin together, but she knew she had to take more aggressive action.
There was no point in stressing out about what he would think of her stupider decisions, or foretelling the end of their relationship before they’d even really begun. She was just going to have to talk to him, tell him everything, and let him make his own decisions about what he could or couldn’t deal with in a woman he was dating.
Dating. It was a strange word to think of in conjunction with her and Jackson.
They weren’t the dating kind. Their relationship was already far too intense for such a casual term. After only a day, she felt she couldn’t breathe as well when he wasn’t in the room. Jackson could quickly become a person she depended on, someone she needed as much as she needed anything else in the world.
Dangerous, scary thoughts there, Nicky.
“Well, life can be scary. And not everything worth having is easy,” she said to her reflection as she coated her lashes with dark brown mascara.
That’s what you said about Derrick. Look how that turned out.
“Oh, shut up. Just shut up.” Nicky threw her gloss back into her purse.
Great, now she was yelling at the voices in her head. She had to nip this insanity in the bud.
Before she could talk herself out of it, Nicky turned toward the stairs. She would go down to the kitchen and tell Jackson everything. Right now. Before they ate tortellini, before she fell any more head over heels for him than she was already. Even if telling the truth meant she would lose him, at least she’d know how this was going to end. She couldn’t handle any more suspense.
Suspense was one of her least favorite things. . . unless it was of the sexual variety.
She was nearly to the bottom of the stairs when she heard Jackson talking and froze in place. For a second she thought someone else must have arrived at the cabin, but after a few seconds it became clear he was on the phone. She hadn’t seen a landline in the any of the rooms, so it must be his cell. Which made her wonder if her own cell was getting reception.
Some smarty-pants she was. And here she’d thought that stellar grade on her GED and the A’s in the classes she’d taken at the community college had meant something. Checking her cell reception should have been the first thing she did as soon as she was alone if she’d really been focused on getting out of here and away from her captor.
Of course, that was the problem right there. She hadn’t wanted to get away, not really. Not even when she’d run from Jackson when they’d parked on the side of the road. Even as she’d run like hell for the headlights coming around the corner, she’d wanted him to catch her.
“Yeah, I need a complete background check. I want to see what she’s been up to,” Jackson said to the person at the other end of the line.
Background check? On her? Dear god, what did he think she’d been doing for the past eight years that required a background check? He was the one who had turned into a kidnapper.
“See if there’s any criminal record, and if so, what she was charged with.”
Oh. My. God. He thought she was a criminal, and was making sure she wasn’t dangerous before he took things any further in their relationship. The lack of trust implied by that action was. . . staggering. She’d trusted him not to hurt her and submitted to him without question, even after he’d told her he intended to permanently mark her body without her permission. And still he was the one who felt the need to do a background check.
It didn’t just hurt her feelings— it made her angry. Really angry. With Jackson, but more important, with herself.
She should have known better. After years in a horrible dom-sub relationship, she’d been ready to jump right back into another one in less than a day. It didn’t matter that Jackson wasn’t a stranger, he was still a person she’d had no contact with for the past eight years. She should have insisted on moving forward slowly if they were going to move forward at all. Going to bed with your kidnapper mere hours after getting into his car and professing your love for him twenty-four hours later was insane. She obviously needed some kind of intensive anti-sub therapy.
Which she was going to make sure to get, as soon as she got the hell away from here.
 
 
 
Jackson went ahead and chopped the tomatoes, garlic, and fresh basil himself. Nicky was taking forever upstairs, but he didn’t want to rush her. She’d said something about wanting to fix her hair and makeup before dinner and he knew how long those girlish things could take. And even though he thought she was just as beautiful without makeup on and her hair in crazy curls, knowing she wanted to dress up just for him made him smile.
A lot. Smiling and humming a little tune, he put the tortellini on to boil and fetched the pine nuts, fresh mozzarella, and baby green beans from the fridge.
Everything was working out perfectly. This weekend was turning out to be one of the best of his entire life. He felt so comfortable with Nick. Spending time with her was like going home, to a real home. To that place of warmth and love and happiness neither one of them had ever known.
And the sex was. . . indescribable. He hadn’t known he could come so hard, so often. She made him wild with a single look, the slightest touch. He could fuck her every day for the rest of his life and never get tired of feeling her body pressed against him. She was everything he’d ever dreamed of and everything he’d ever need.
He knew he was crazy, but he was already thinking rings, wondering how long he’d have to wait before it would be at least somewhat rational to pop the question.
Jackson’s phone buzzed in his pocket, interrupting his stream of insanity. It was Christian calling him back. It hadn’t been more than fifteen minutes since they hung up the first time, but then, his partner did have some excellent sources. Christian’s ability to get the dirt on just about anyone had often made Jackson a little suspicious.
Despite the fact that he used to be a police officer before he quit to do the tattoo artist thing full-time, sometimes it seemed a little too easy for Chris to find out the intensely personal details of other people’s lives. Even police officers had to work to get access to things like juvenile arrests and medical records. Especially medical records.
But when Christian had discovered a girl Jackson was casually dating was HIV-positive and hiding it from her lovers in order to convince them to indulge her passion for blood play without reluctance, Jackson hadn’t asked questions. He hadn’t cared how Christian had gotten the information, he’d just been glad to learn the truth before he’d put himself at risk.
The same was true now. Before he got in any deeper with Nicky, he had to know what she was hiding and whether he could help her out of whatever trouble she was in. If not, he didn’t know if he could handle getting any closer to the woman upstairs. If she’d gotten herself into a bad situation beyond his control to remedy, it would drive him insane to see her suffer and not be able to keep her safe.
“What did you find out?” Jackson asked, keeping his voice low in case Nicky made a sudden appearance. Surely she was nearly ready by now and could be headed down the stairs any second.
“Nothing much. It’s like the woman just dropped out of her life two years ago,” Christian said. “I found a couple of pictures from her wedding to this Derrick Sack of Potatoes guy, but—”
“What?”
“Sakapatatis. No wonder Nicky didn’t change her name. That has to be one of the least sexy last names I’ve ever heard. It would have been lingerie model suicide.”
Jackson sighed and rolled his eyes. “So that’s it? Her ex has a lame last name? That’s all you found out?”
“No, that’s not all I found out. This is me you’re talking to.” Christian sniffed, clearly offended. “She has a clean criminal record. Never even had an unpaid parking ticket, which probably wasn’t too hard considering she didn’t have a driver’s license until about two months ago.”
“No driver’s license?”
“Not in California, and the Nevada license expired when she turned twenty.”
“That’s strange.” Nicky had always loved to drive his car and had been at the DMV the morning of her sixteenth birthday ready to test for her license.
“And it gets stranger, my friend. According to her and the Sack of Potatoes guy’s tax records, she reported no income from the time she quit modeling until she started working at the bar. Absolutely nothing.”
“Maybe he didn’t want her to work. He sounds like the type from what I’ve heard.”
“Maybe. But he didn’t want her to spend, either. She didn’t have her name on any of his four bank accounts or have an account of her own. Hell, she didn’t even have a credit card. There’s no credit history on the chick for the past two years.”
Jackson grunted, putting the pieces together before Christian spoke again.
“Which probably means she’s flat-ass broke unless she’s been stashing cash under her mattress or something.”
“What about the money she earned modeling?” Jackson asked. “What happened to that? She must have had an account before she was married.”
“She did, but she closed it out before she hooked up with her husband. She’s broke, man.”
“So what?” Jackson snapped.
“So nothing. Don’t shoot the messenger. It’s no big deal, as long as you don’t mind being her sugar daddy. But. . . there is something else.”
“And what is that?” Jackson asked, trying to keep the frustration out of his voice as he turned off the burner on the stove and poured the tortellini into the colander to drain. “I don’t have a lot of time right now, Christian.”
“Fine, I’ll cut right to it. She’s got a kid.”
“What?” Jackson dropped the pot into the sink with a clatter, feeling his stomach bottom out. If Nicky had a kid, who was taking care of him or her while she was up here?
“A baby girl about eleven months old, Abigail Diana Sakapatatis. From what I can find, it seems like the kid is still living with the husband.”
“But that guy’s bad news. He was abusive to Nicky— I’m almost certain of it.”
“Yeah, well, maybe she had to get out of the situation, but couldn’t take the kid with her. If she has no money, she wouldn’t be very well equipped to—”
“No way. She would never leave her child with someone who would hurt her. She wouldn’t do that, Christian.”
“Listen, don’t freak out on me. I’m just telling you what I learned.” Christian sighed, and Jackson could tell he wasn’t going to like the next words out of his partner’s mouth. “And I’ll tell you something else: I think you’re crazy. You don’t know this woman anymore. She is not the same sweet little girl you fell in love with.”
“You don’t know anything about her.”
“No, but I do know a thing or two about you. And I know that, beneath that big bad act, you’re a softie, man. You’re a prime target for a woman like her.”
“Choose your next words very carefully,” Jackson said, hoping Christian heard the warning in his tone.
“I’m not saying anything bad about your precious Nicky. I’m just saying she’s a woman who is obviously in some sort of trouble. Financial trouble for certain and probably more if this soon-to-be ex is as bad as you think.”
“Again I have to say, so what?”
“So help her if you want to help her, but don’t let yourself think you two are headed for happily ever after or something. She’s obviously not in a place where she can be loving anyone.”
“I’m going to hang up now.” Jackson could barely force the words out, his jaw was clenched so tightly. Christian didn’t know what the hell he was talking about. He’d never dated the same woman for more than a month at a time. What the fuck did he know about love?
“Fine, but when she uses you and then leaves your ass a second time, don’t say I didn’t warn—”
Jackson snapped the phone closed and threw it on the counter. He shouldn’t have brought the damned thing. He hadn’t wanted any distractions when he came to the mountains. That’s why he hadn’t had a landline installed in the first place.
The last thing he’d needed was a dose of reality via Christian, the biggest cynic in his personal acquaintance. Jackson was the one whose mother had dumped him on his dad’s porch before he could even walk and never come back. Then his dad, the only adult who had ever made Jackson feel safe and cared for, had kicked it when he was ten and he’d been shuffled from shitty foster home to shit-tier foster home until he was eighteen. Still, Christian was the one who acted like life had betrayed him. Jackson had never met the other man’s family, but they must be some pieces of work to make Christian distrust people even more than he did.
“Nicky? Are you about ready?” Jackson shouted to be heard upstairs as he fished the wok out from the cupboard and dumped the tortellini and vegetables inside. “We’re about two minutes from estimated pasta arrival.”
Silence. Not so much as the sound of footsteps crossing the floor or water running in the bathroom. “Nick?” he called again.
Still nothing, the kind of nothing that made the hairs stand up on his arms and his throat grow tight. Jackson set the wok on the stove, but didn’t turn on the burner. Instead, he headed for the stairs, wiping his damp hands on his jeans as he went.
There had to be a logical explanation for this. Maybe she had found the iPod in his suitcase and was checking out his favorite playlists. Nicky had always loved to play her music loud and he doubted becoming a mom had changed that.
A mom. Nicky was a mom.
A mom who had left her little girl with a potentially dangerous man. The knowledge all but killed the spark of pleasure the idea of meeting Nicky’s daughter had inspired.
What could have driven her to make that kind of decision? Was she so traumatized by her marriage she wanted out any way she could, even if that meant leaving her daughter behind? Maybe she’d wanted to take her baby with her, but hadn’t had the money, as Christian had suggested.
Or maybe she just hadn’t taken to being a parent the way he’d always thought she would.
They’d never really talked about kids in-depth, but even as a teenager Nicky had seemed like the kind of woman who would grow up to be a great mother. The way she’d taken care of the younger foster kids in Phil’s house had always impressed him. She hadn’t just made sure they had something to eat or helped them with homework, she’d done her best to make them smile, to lessen the negative impact of living with Phil in her own small way.
Could that have really changed so much in eight years?
Jackson knew he was going to find out. She’d probably be pissed that he snooped around behind her back, but—
“Nicky?” He said her name one last time, even though the open window next to Nicky’s bed assured him she wouldn’t be answering his call. She was gone.