I wake up alarmed—mostly because the space next to me lacks Jaxson.

He’s supposed to be there but isn’t, and though he has left my place early before, panic hits me like a ton of bricks.

I keep thinking one of these days will be the last time he decides to share my bed and he’ll carry on at work as normal, his use for me outside of the office expired while I’m left dealing with the emotional fallout.

I’ve tried to stop myself from falling deeper by keeping him at arm’s length physically at times, but it’s no use. Whether he’s with me or not, the results are the same—I yearn to get closer and closer to him. 

I want him in every possible way, and that might be what he’s been waiting for before dumping me, regardless of what else he’s told me or shown me.

I don’t doubt he still cares for me, but I’m not foolish enough to think he’s done with taunting me with what could have been.

* * *

It’s loan payment day so I’m expecting an interruption any minute, but I’m happily grocery-shopping for now, going over the label of the package I picked up in the canned food aisle.

I don’t care to use Jaxson’s shopper all the time—I like being out every now and then these days.

A slight bump in my side suddenly grabs my attention.

“ ‘Scuse me,” a man says with a half-grin—one whose voice I don’t recognize, but whose manner strikes me as familiar.

“You moved,” he says casually, looking down at a can of peas he picked up, and my heart sinks.

Here it is.

They didn’t bother sending a text this time.

“The boss sends his regards,” the man says without looking back at me.

He puts the can back on the shelf and moves further down the aisle, appearing as if looking for something specific.

I know the new instructions are on the ‘shopping list’ he accidentally left behind with the can of peas.

By the time I pick up the slip of paper, he’s gone.

I wait until I’m in my car to read the note and then my mouth falls open, my hand sliding up to cover it.

It accuses me of being dishonest, and as a result of my dishonesty, the previously paused interest has accumulated and full payment is due immediately. Apparently, my new residence, my new car, and my new rich boyfriend let them know I’m perfectly capable of complying with the new terms, and to make sure I don’t waste any more of their time, they have decided on collateral. Finally, I must check the phone at six p.m. for details of the drop-off.

The thought of them actually expecting me to come up with the full amount today is so ridiculous, I almost laugh, but I’m too concerned with what they’ve decided to hold as collateral.

I have nothing—besides Jaxson, of course.

The thought of anything happening to him nearly kills me, a sharp searing pain slicing its way diagonally through my chest.

I need to let him know more—everything that I know so he’s fully prepared.

When my phone rings, it takes me a moment to move to answer it, and while part of me always hopes it’s Jaxson, I didn’t really expect it to be him since he promised to call later.

I certainly didn’t expect the word ‘Mom’ to come up on the caller ID.

“Hello?” I answer, the disbelief in my voice clear.

“Have you heard from your sister lately?” my mother answers.

My stomach drops.

“What do you mean? It’s been a while since I heard from any of you.”

“Well, she was supposed to be back from a sleepover at her best friend’s this afternoon and she never showed. She never called or anything either, which is quite unlike her. I’m concerned.”

I’m so conflicted right now, trapped between concern and anger, fighting back biting replies.

I’m tempted to mention the contents of the note, but something tells me that’s probably the worst idea—my mother would definitely involve the police immediately, and who knows what the lowlifes will do to my sister then? Actually, I have some idea.

I focus on keeping my voice sounding calm.

“I’m sure she’ll show up. She’s, what, almost eighteen now? She might have been the perfect little girl and teenager, but a young adult like that is built to rebel against something at some point. Maybe she’s taking a personal break. Are you guys forcing her to marry someone she doesn’t want to?”

“I knew it would be useless calling you.”

I hang up, my heart pounding a little harder against my chest—furious and frightened all at once.

I need to call Jaxson immediately.

* * *

I tell Jaxson everything I can remember about Charles and John and the debt collectors, fighting hard against frustrated tears and losing slowly, gathered moisture starting to fall from the corners of my eyes.

“Maybe I should just let my parents handle it,” I say. “They have the means. But once they agree to pay, they’ll probably get stuck forever—the terms will change and there’ll be no end in sight! I tried so hard not to get people I love involved, but it’s no use—they’ll never let me out now that they have her…”

“Calm down, baby…”

“...and I don’t know what they’ll do to her if I don’t deliver! They might sell her…”

“Candace…”

“...kill her and send us her body parts…”

“Candace…”

“...but I’m not supposed to go to the cops or anything because they’ll do something horrible right away…”

“Candace!”

Jaxson’s firm deep voice finally pierces my rising hysteria, and I stop babbling, my eyes focusing on his ridiculously handsome face, his oceanic eyes laser-focused on me.

“Yes?” I answer softly. 

And then it registers that he called me baby.

“Candace, listen to me—don’t panic; we’ll get your sister back in one piece and I promise you, these knuckleheads won’t bother you again.”

“How can you possibly promise that?”

His slow smile is humorless but genuine somehow, darkly sexy and answering me firmly before his words.

“Don’t let the suit fool you,“ he says in a deep rumble that sends shivers through me, culminating in a desperate pulse in my core. “Years ago, you met a very different Jaxson than the one standing before you, a Jaxson who grew up among con artists and crooks. A Jaxson that had to figure out a life without you. That Jaxson fought his way to the one you’re looking at now and did a lot of things you—then and now—wouldn’t approve of to get here. But old Jaxson’s still in there; he’ll always be a part of me. This Jaxson knows a whole other world, baby, one I’ll make sure you don’t have to worry about now or in our future.”

My heart leaps at his last words, but before I can say anything, he says, “Get me everything they’ve ever sent you, including the burner phones, the notes—everything.”

I quickly obey, dumping everything into a box and bringing it to him.

He starts heading toward the door.

“Where are you taking them?”

“I told you not to worry about anything. You definitely don’t need these shitty reminders around since you won’t have some lowly dirtbag hitting you up for money again.” He takes a short breath, his jaw working a bit. “Maybe I’ll tell you more once spousal privilege is in place.”

By the time the implications register, he’s gone—out the door with all of the evidence of my psychological torture over the past several months, leaving me alone with new emotional ones.

* * *

Jaxson returns about two hours later, empty-handed.

“Okay, listen to me—you’re going to go to the location as planned. I’ll pack a bag for you.”

“What?”

“I’m going to put a few things in place first—shouldn’t take long; I’ve been working on some of this before the latest development, so the parts should come together quite nicely.”

“Wait, what? How…?”

“I need to make a few calls. Before you’re set to go, a black bag will be delivered for you to take along with you—the final payoff. And listen to me, babe—don’t open it. I don’t care how curious you get because there won’t be any money in there, and I need for you to retain plausible deniability. Can I trust you to do that?”

I nod, unable to muster up words.

“Good.”

He brings his large hands to my upper arms, making me feel dwarfed and protected all at once as he holds on firmly but gently.

“Take a breath,” he says. “Everything will be fine. More than fine. We’ll get your sister back and you’ll never have to worry about any of this stuff again.”

I nod, looking away, but he slides a finger to my chin and tilts my head up.

“Look at me,” he says.

My eyes snap to his, and I start to get lost in the ocean blue.

“Do you trust me?” he says.

How could I not when he’s this close, and his eyes reflect such fierce emotion?

How could I say anything but yes when my heart is pumping as if trying to escape my chest?

“Yes, sir,” I squeeze past my tight throat, and he erupts in amused laughter then claims my lips before I realize the firm, possessive kiss is coming.

His tongue darts into my mouth, and I accept and mirror his exploration, feeling safe and complete.

Of course, I trust him. Even now, and after everything, I’d trust him with anything.

He slips from the suite while I’m still recovering from his passionate kiss.

* * *

I don’t know what to do with myself.

I’m worried for my sister, and I’m worried for Jaxson—even though he pretty much assured me he’s in familiar territory.

But what the hell does that even mean?

I want to know, but I don’t.

My whole life I’ve been spared concrete awareness of how less fortunate folks have to fight to survive.

Even after losing everything and ending up where I did, I never had to do things others feel they have no other choice but to do.

I still had padding from earlier advantages offered me: important connections, a college degree, a certain bearing that made people feel comfortable—all things I could spin into better opportunities.

My manner and the way I speak—I don’t think I’d make a convincing dirty-talking sex worker, for example. People want to hire me for white-collar work, sometimes even offering managerial positions without needing the usual qualifications.

I never had to con my way into anywhere.

Because of me, however, my sister is being held by members of society’s underbelly, and Jaxson has to dive back into a world I’d assumed he left far behind. 

They’re both in danger now because I made a terrible decision long ago—one I hope to stop paying for soon.

I was young and felt a duty to my parents; I didn’t have it in me then to stand up for what I believed in, what I wanted, needed.

But I do now.

I don’t know what I’ll do if anything happens to Jaxson; he’s a part of me in ways I can’t extricate. He has burrowed his way so deeply inside me, so definitively, that I’m not sure I’d be able to recover if things don’t work out the way he promised. 

I love him more than anything, and I didn’t even get to tell him before he jumped into harm’s way on my behalf. 

I need him to know how I feel, to tell him I never want to be away from him again. He means everything to me and I want to spend the rest of my life with him. 

I want to tell him I’d love to move in with him, marry him, raise this child I sense growing inside me.

God, I didn’t even get to mention that part.

I hope I get a chance to tell him everything.

No more running away from what we mean to each other, trying to avoid the inevitable.

I belong to him.

I briefly consider getting law enforcement involved so that he has some sort of backup, but I quickly realize it’s a stupid idea—I no longer have any evidence of what’s going on, and sometimes law enforcement is in on stuff like this.

Most of all, Jaxson asked me to trust him to handle it, so I will.

As I sit here rocking or stand pacing, trying to find some way to deal with Jaxson’s absence and the possibility of him getting hurt—the danger both he and my sister are in—I try to transmit the depth of my love to him.

“I love you, Jaxson,” I whisper. “Please come back to me so we can spend the rest of our lives together…”

* * *

Instead of the bag being dropped off in a way I expect, I get a text from Jaxson saying the bag had been delivered directly to my car trunk.

All I do is double-check it’s there once I get to my car, slamming the trunk down on the black canvas beginning to whisper to me to take a peek.

I head for the park bench and recognize who’s waiting for me this time—it’s the very first guy.

He gives me a crooked smile when he sees me, revealing his bum tooth.

I plop down next to him on the metallic green bench, placing the bag between us.

It’s bigger than usual—as he’d expect since they’d requested more money than before.

It’s also heavier than usual—heavier than I’d expect additional stacks of money to be.

I already had the heads up money wasn’t exactly in there, but what was?

I was suddenly grateful I had less time with it than expected; I didn’t have to ride down twenty elevator floors with it, shove it in my car myself.

Curiosity might have gotten the better of me.

All I had to do was pluck it from the trunk and head straight for the stated location, no time to fight further temptation—especially since time-wise, I was cutting it close.

I wondered if Jaxson had planned that too—to deliver it just at the moment I started freaking out that if I didn’t leave soon, I’d be late.

“Beautiful day today, isn’t it?” Bum Tooth says.

I bite back a “fuck you.”

“The sky’s a clear blue, the sun’s bright but not too hot, and look at all these fucking butterflies. It’s quiet but vibrant—full of life. Just perfect. You know what I’m sayin’?”

I keep fighting back nasty retorts, just glaring at him while my mouth is, no doubt, pulled into a line from the effort.

Can we just get this over with?

Whatever’s in that bag supposedly takes care of my remaining debt, and I’d like to be done with this whole thing as soon as possible.

Shit, that last bit actually came out of my mouth, I realize as he gives me another crooked grin.

“Impatient, I see. Not a good quality in a woman.”

Is he trying to get me to punch him in the throat?

He grabs the bag and takes a peek, and that stupid pleased expression quickly disappears as his eyebrows come together.

“What the fuck is this?” he says as he unzips further.

I do my best not to panic, unsure what’s going to happen now that he’s clearly not happy with the contents of the bag.

His eyes snap to mine.

Seemingly out of nowhere, a man slinks into the space next to him, gently resting a hand on his lap as if it’s the most natural thing in the world.

Bum Tooth turns aggressively to confront the intruder but doesn’t get a chance.

“Hammerhead sends his regards,” the older stranger says calmly.

Bum Tooth blanches.

“Oh, and I have a message for your boss,” the stranger continues. “Tell him the debt is settled; he is never to bother this woman again.” He pats Bum Tooth’s lap before standing. “Don’t forget that,” he says with a nod toward the bag. “Let him gaze upon The Hammer’s generosity.”

Bum Tooth grabs the bag and gets out of there fast, leaving me alone with the mysterious stranger.

He doesn’t say a word to me—he only tips his hat then turns and walks away, leaving my brain fighting to process what just happened and what the heck I’m supposed to do next.

I don’t have to wait long.

My phone buzzes with a text, and I’m relieved to follow the next set of instructions.