JACKSON

 

THE GIRL TIED to my chair is a mystery.  And when she refuses to answer my previous question, I pull the remnants of the bacon away and tell her, "Fine.  No more bacon for you," in my best impression of the Soup Nazi from Seinfeld.  Fuck, I love that episode.

It's a shame to deprive her really, because it brought me a lot of pleasure seeing how much she enjoyed eating.  Especially bacon.  And let's face it, bacon is fucking awesome.  Given her thin frame, I suspect she's not used to the finer things in life — like bacon and doughnuts.

Damn it, now I'm hungry for doughnuts too.  But room service only brought up some sort of berry croissant.

Fuck, why am I even thinking about doughnuts and croissants right now?  I need to get my head in the damn game.

Shaking my head, I grab a full glass of orange juice.  "Thirsty?" I ask.  "Fresh squeezed," I remark with a grin.  I take a healthy swig of the juice and moan in delight.  "Delicious."

Her eyes meet mine, and she quirks a blonde brow at me as if silently questioning, Are you seriously torturing me with food right now?

Okay.  So it's no surprise that I'm not good at this torture thing, but I know how I get when I'm hangry — hungry and angry — and that's almost as bad as torture.  So if she's as hangry as I am right now, maybe food is the right method to get her to talk.

She stares at the juice in my hand as I bring it closer to her.  And when she licks her lips, I know I have her right where I want her.

"Just answer my question, and you can have as much as you want," I tell her.

She narrows her eyes at me and then says with a huff, "Fine."  I wait for her answer with bated breath, and I don't even have time to prepare myself when she answers with, "He was my husband."

Her husband?

I am so floored by her response that it takes a few moments just to process that fact in my overactive brain.  Talk about being shocked.  I would have been less surprised if she would have told me she was a fucking astronaut…or hell, the leader of a secret underwater city filled with mermaids.

Even though I have all of her information laid out in front of me, I feel like I'm missing a big piece of the puzzle here.

Her name is Katerina Fedorov.  She was born in Russia and is twenty-six years old, a few years younger than me.

And she apparently just murdered her husband.

But why?  There has to be a motive behind it.  There are, of course, the obvious reasons — he was old enough to be her grandfather and, let's face it, he didn't exactly try to keep up in the looks department.

But she must have loved him at some point if she married the guy.  So what gives?

True to my word, I lean over and bring the glass of juice to her full lips.  I pour the liquid into her mouth slowly, and I can't help but allow my gaze to linger over her delicate, slender neck as she swallows.

I should be terrified of this pretty, little murderer; but for some reason, she doesn't scare me at all.  Maybe it's because of the fact I have her tied up right now, but I like to think that deep down she wouldn't hurt me.

There's an overwhelming sadness behind her blue eyes that I just can't shake.  This girl has been through a lot.  And like some sort of glass puzzle, I just want to break her open and put her back together again to get the whole picture.

Katerina's scent wafts over me, and I inhale it greedily.  She smells like flowers and, like, fucking sunshine…if that even has a scent.  I don't know how the hell else to describe it, but she smells incredible.

After a few seconds, I take the now empty glass away and sit back in my seat again.

"What's your name?" she asks.

"Jackson."

"So, Jackson, what are you going to do with me?" she questions me.

I shrug and take a bite of toast, chewing quietly.  "Not sure yet," I answer her honestly.  "I need to talk to my cousin about that."  I'd been so caught up with this Katerina business that I haven't even so much as texted Lucien since our conversation last night on the phone.  I heard my phone ringing earlier this morning, but I was too fucking tired to even answer.  I smile when I think about Lucien's reaction to me not picking up.  I bet it's driving him fucking insane right about now.

Offering her a bite of eggs, she takes it carefully.  After chewing and swallowing, she inquires, "Your cousin?"

I nod.

"Who is your cousin?" she asks, but it sounds like a demand.

"No one you would know, but he's powerful.  Can make things happen.  Can give you a new identity and make you disappear," I tell her.  "If you want," I add quickly.

"I don't want to disappear," she tells me quickly.

I stare at her in confusion.  "You just shot your husband, and you weren't going to run?"

Sighing, she bites into her plump lower lip and shakes her head.  "It's complicated," she whispers.

"Sounds like it."  As her teeth release her lip, I stare at the marks left behind before wiping my own mouth with a linen napkin and standing.  I reach into my blazer on the back of my chair and retrieve my cell phone.  "Speaking of my cousin, I need to check in with him.  He's probably going apeshit since I haven't responded to him all morning," I say with a grin.  Driving my cousin crazy is so damn easy…and fun.

Katerina tracks my movements as I stride across the room.  I click the wake button of my iPhone and check my notifications on the screen.

And my entire world comes to a screeching standstill.

At first the messages from Lucien are his typical shit…what are you doing…where are you…why aren't you picking up your cell, you fucking dickhead…send me some fucking girly emojis or something…anything…

But then…the messages turn into something else entirely.  Lucien's not one to kid around, so I know he's fucking serious when he's telling me that he's in trouble.  "Oh, fuck!" I hiss, swallowing hard around the lump forming in my throat.

I unlock the phone and punch a few buttons to dial Lucien's number before bringing the cell to my ear.  After a few seconds of continuous ringing before it goes to his voicemail, I lower the phone.

My heartbeat picks up double pace…triple pace…and it feels like it's going to beat right the fuck out of my chest.

Lucien sent out an SOS message about an hour ago.  The fucking island had been breached, and there's no doubt in my mind that they were coming for him and Adeline.

Adeline.

My gut churns in protest, and I feel like I'm gonna vomit the remnants of my breakfast all over the goddamn floor.

"What?  What's wrong?" Katerina asks, her voice trembling.

My eyes snap over to the girl that has distracted me for the past twelve hours.  She's the reason I didn't go back to the island.  But I can't really blame her.  It was my own damn fault that I didn't keep my phone on me…that I wanted to piss off Lucien because deep down I was feeling a certain way about him and Adeline getting engaged…

Shit, this is all my fault.

Shaking my head, I refuse to think the worst until I see it for my own eyes.  "Change of plans.  We gotta go.  Now," I tell her, rushing to repack my things into my suitcase.

"We?" she squeaks.

I nod, frantically zipping shut my luggage and going for my medical bag.  I need to get us on the plane without any more incidents…no more distractions…no more delays.  I already fucked up.  I can't fuck up again.

I hate to sedate Katerina again, but it's the only way.  She won't come willingly.  She's already proved that point.  And I can't risk letting her go right now until I know the truth behind why she did what she did.

I prepare a new syringe with a tranquilizer that should keep her out for a while and grab an alcohol wipe.

"Are you a doctor?" she asks with wide eyes as I approach her.

I swab her restrained arm with the wipe and tell her, "Yes."  She visibly relaxes as I inject her with the sedative.  "Well…technically," I add as I stand up and stare down at her.

"Wait…what?" she asks groggily, weakly struggling against her bonds.

"I'm sorry.  It's the only way," I tell her with sincere honesty before her head lolls to the side and the sedative pulls her under.