CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
I KNEW IT was coming, but my body flinched at the sound of the gunshot. My tense body pressed backward into Nate. Rosie’s final yelp resonated, breaking my heart. Nate twisted the blade so the flat end was against my skin. He pressed it into my throat before slowly dragged it away. He suddenly released me, shoving me forward. I fell, my knees hitting the hard stone path.
Jackson stood frozen with horror, the smoking gun still raised in his hands. His body swayed, and I could hear his rapid breathing as he stared at Rosie’s body. His arms faltered, and his hands dropped to his sides. Nate strode past, pushing me over. I fell onto my side.
I planted my hand against the ground and started to push myself up. The breath caught in my chest, and it hurt to breathe. Rosie was dead. Nate forced Jackson to murder a harmless animal. I looked up and Jackson. He was so dejected, so ashamed of himself. He still hadn’t moved from where he had been standing. He turned, his mouth was slightly open in shock, and his brown eyes were misty.
Nate laughed, flipping the switchblade opened and closed. He walked over to Jackson and took the gun from his hands.
“Get back to work,” he snarled.
Jackson blinked and snapped his hand back, recoiling from Nate’s touch. Suddenly Jackson’s demeanor went from despondent to angry. Very angry. Nate’s smug face went blank. His eyes widened when Jackson pushed past him.
“Jackson!” Nate snapped. But Jackson didn’t listen. He rushed to me, dropping to his knees. With tears in my eyes I turned my head up to him.
“Addie,” he whispered, his voice trembling. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
I opened my mouth to tell him it wasn’t his fault, but my words twisted into a sob, and I pitched forward. Jackson put his hand on my arm, gently pushing me upright. Without even thinking about it, I threw my arms around him. His body stiffened, and he put his arms out by his sides, unsure of what to do. Cautiously, he bent his elbows and placed his palms on my back.
I buried my head into his shoulder, crying. He tightened his embrace. His arms around me were so comforting, so reassuring, so needed.
“I told you to get back to work!” Nate growled and stormed over. He grabbed a tangle of Jackson’s hair and yanked. Not balanced, Jackson tumbled back off of his knees. I went with him and awkwardly landed on top of him. Nate reached down and grabbed my shoulders. He shoved me back.
It took a great amount of energy to pull myself to my feet. I turned and faced Nate. “You’re a monster,” I said through clenched teeth. As if he didn’t even hear me, Nate walked back to the porch. He put his hand on the keypad, punched in the combination, and walked into the house.
“I’m really sorry, Addie,” Jackson said again as he stood, unable to meet my eyes.
I wiped tears from my face. “It’s not your fault,” I sniffled. “Don’t apologize.” I shot a look at the house. I picked dry leaves from my hair and blotted my nose with the sleeve of the jacket. I took in a shaky breath. The cold air rushed through me, stinging my broken heart. I couldn’t bring myself to look at the spot where Rosie lay.
Jackson took off his jacket and covered the dog. Then he picked up his shovel and walked to the side of the porch.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
“I’m going to bury her.”
I nodded, blinking away the tears that were still coming, and picked up my shovel. Together, we silently dug a hole just deep enough to hold Rosie’s body. I turned away when Jackson scooped her up.
“I’ll finish it, Addie,” he said gently. I didn’t want to make him do all the work, but I couldn’t turn around.
“It’s done,” he said when he had piled the dirt back into the hole. I turned around. Pain stabbed me when I looked at the fresh grave.
“Thank you,” I said through chattering teeth.
“Are you cold?” he asked.
“I think so.” I was sure I had to be cold. I was just too numb to be able to tell anything at that moment. “You have to be too.” His coat was still on the ground.
“Digging warmed me up.”
I nodded. “Should we finish?” I waved my hand at the bushes.
“Yeah. You don’t have to. I’ll do it.”
No, I told myself and picked up the shovel. I rammed it into the hard ground, pretending it was Nate’s abdomen. I wasn’t going to give up and fall apart. I was going to escape and turn Nate in. I had to. I needed to.
Jackson let his shovel fall and bent over. He grabbed the bush and pulled. I snapped out of my dark reverie and moved over. Channeling my rage, I hacked at the roots, and the bush broke free. Jackson stumbled back, not expecting it to come loose so easily. He tossed the bush aside and picked up his shovel again.
The front door opened again. Nate stepped out. He was wearing a different outfit and looked just as well put together as before in a pristinely pressed black and gray suit with a satin blue tie. “Inside,” he ordered and slammed the door shut.
Jackson took the shovel from me. I followed him around the house and into the shed, not speaking. I stepped aside and watched him lock the shed doors, then walked close to his side as we went back around the house.
We went into the garage and stomped the mud off of our boots. Jackson turned to me. Our eyes met, and suddenly I wanted him to wrap his arms around me in another comforting embrace. My heart sped up. He opened his mouth to say something else when a car pulled into the driveway, the bright lights illuminating the interior of the garage.
“Zane,” he mumbled and punched in the code. He opened the door and held out his arm, signaling me to enter first. I hurried into the house, removing the gloves and jacket. Jackson followed me to the basement door.
“I’ll bring food down later,” he told me.
I nodded and looked into his eyes. I didn’t want to go downstairs. I didn’t want to be away from Jackson. The garage door slammed shut, reminding me that Zane was back. I didn’t want to see him, either.
I walked down the stairs and collapsed onto my cot. I cried for a while before rolling over, thinking about the comfort Jackson’s embrace had brought. I held onto the memory, remembering the warmth of his arms. I began to feel sleepy when the basement door opened. I sat up, expecting Jackson.
Instead, I saw one of the last things I expected: Rochelle coming down the stairs with three full shopping bags in each hand. The sound of female voices echoed down the stairs.
“I’ll be right up!” Rochelle shouted over her shoulder. She bustled past me and threw the bags onto the card table.
“Who is that?” I asked, my eyes lingering on the stairwell.
“Friends,” she said casually.
“You have friends?” I blurted.
She raised her eyebrows. “Of course I have friends,” she snapped.
I pressed my lips together and nodded. Rochelle rubbed the red marks the heavy shopping bags had left on her arms and hurried back up the stairs. The basement door clicked shut. I waited for the locks to slide into place. When they didn’t, I got up and crept up the stairs. I put my hand on the doorknob and twisted.
It was locked, but the deadbolts weren’t. Had Rochelle forgotten, or did she not want her ‘friends’ seeing her lock the door? I shook my head and went back down the stairs. I moved to the card table and investigated the shopping bags. I picked up a white bag with black handles, recognizing the logo right away. Two expensive sweaters were neatly folded on top of a pair of jeans that cost as much as the two sweaters combined. I peered inside a brown bag next, which was full of t-shirts and tank tops. A small, black bag had pretty multicolored gemstone necklaces wrapped in white and gold tissue paper, and the other three bags housed shoes.
I opened a pink shoebox and held up a neon green stiletto. I was about to drop it back into the box when I noticed it was a size five. None of us, not even petite Phoebe, wore shoes that small. I turned and looked at the stairs. Was this stuff bought for the girls Rochelle called her friends?
“Why?” I asked aloud. I set the shoes down and went back to my cot. I wrapped my arms around myself and wished Phoebe was here. I pulled the quilt around my shoulders and lay down. I drifted into a light sleep. I dreamed that Jackson took me around the farmhouse to the shed, saying he had a surprise for me. When he opened the shed doors, I was looking at my house.
“Addie,” he said in the dream. I turned to look at him. “Addie,” he repeated.
I startled awake and heard my name again, that time for real.
“Sorry,” Jackson said and looked down. “Did I wake you?”
“Yeah,” I said, seeing no sense in lying.
“Oh, sorry,” he mumbled. “I hope you weren’t having a good dream.”
“Of course not,” I said, lying that time. I knew Jackson would feel bad if I told him the truth. I sat up and ran my hands over my messy hair, pushing it out of my face. “Who are those girls upstairs?”
Jackson frowned. “Zane’s newest recruits.”
“Recruits?” I asked.
Jackson nodded and sat on the cot next to mine. “Every once in a while he goes out, usually to the mall, and sweet talks a few girls into working for him.”
I shook my head. “Why would anyone fall for that?”
Jackson looked down. “Zane has a way with people. He’s good at getting inside your head, making you feel special. He’s so manipulative it’s almost … almost animalistic. In the end, you want to do things for him.”
“I’m sorry, but I don’t care how sweet someone is to me. I would never agree to have sex for money that I can’t even keep!”
“It doesn’t work like that, Addie,” he explained. “Zane picks out girls who already have issues, family, self esteem … that kind of thing. He builds them up and makes sure they depend on him. Then he’ll start asking for favors, but they’re small at first. He makes these girls think that he loves them … ” Jackson trailed off, shaking his head. “And a lot of them are young. They believe what he tells them. And they keep the money at first. He buys them stuff.” He sighed, looking at the card table. “Plus, if you haven’t noticed, Zane exceeds the definition of ‘attractive.' You girls eat that shit up.”
I gently kicked his foot. “Don’t group me with ‘those girls,'” I told him with a small smile.
“Sorry,” he said, his eyes smiling back at me. “But you know what I mean.”
“I do,” I said and shook my head. I thought of Arianna and how impressionable she was. I didn’t want to admit it, but I knew she could easily be lured to a party with alcohol, and even drugs. I hoped she was smart enough to see the red flag in Zane’s ‘favors.' I knew many females, not just young teenagers, were willing to turn a blind eye for a guy that showed them even minimal affection.
“What’s going to happen to them?” I asked.
Jackson shook his head. “I don’t really know. Not yet, at least. A lot of them end up running away from home. Zane takes them in and …” he trailed off. “You know the rest.”
I shivered and turned to the milk carton next to the cot. Jackson had placed my plate of food on it. I leaned over and picked up the peanut butter sandwich.
“What if I was allergic to peanuts?” I asked and then felt a little embarrassed at the dumb question.
“It happened before,” he said, knowing exactly what I had meant. “Her name was Jackie. She didn’t even eat it. Just being around peanuts made her throat swell up.”
“What happened to her?”
“She went to the ER and got shots or something. I don’t really know.”
“Nate will let us go to the ER?” I asked.
Jackson tipped his head to the side. “Some girls. It depends on who, and they always use fake names.”
“Oh,” I said and felt a little sick. “So, Zane and Nate.”
“What about them?”
“Nate seems to like Zane.”
Jackson nodded. “Yeah, he does. I have no idea how that relationship started,” he stated, answering my next question. “I always thought Nate liked Zane from the start because he had the looks to bring girls in. Now he has the personality too.”
I moved my head up and down as I took another bite of the sandwich. Jackson yawned, and I noticed the dark circles under his eyes. They were covered up with a fading bruise. “What exactly do you do?”
“Work,” he answered with no hesitation. “I clean, cook, do yard work, drop off and pick up girls, bartend at the club sometimes, work in the restaurant if someone calls off.”
“And you never get paid?”
Jackson let out a snort of laughter. “Oh, sorry. You’re serious?” he asked when he saw my face. “No. Never. That’s not even an option.” He sighed. “Basically, I do whatever Nate tells me to do.”
“Like with Rosie,” I said carefully, knowing that Nate forced Jackson to do things far more unpleasant than housework.
His eyes darted to the ground. “Yeah,” he said quickly and changed the subject. “What kind of dogs do you have?”
“German shepherds,” I answered, and thought of my two over-sized lap dogs.
“What are their names?”
“Scarlet and Rhett.”
Jackson smiled. “You like Gone with the Wind?”
“Oh my god!” I exclaimed. “You’re one of the very few people my own age who knows who Scarlet and Rhett are! I love that movie.”
“I’ve never seen the movie,” Jackson admitted. “Just read the book more than once.”
“I haven’t even read the book,” I said and looked at Jackson with admiration. His eyes lit up. “Is it good?”
He nodded. “It’s long.”
“Do you like to read?” I asked and took another bite.
“I do. That’s what I do whenever I’m not working.”
“That’s how I used to be. I always had a book with me.”
He smiled at me. “I like the way books smell. Is that weird?”
“Not at all.” I leaned forward. “I have like a million books on my e-reader that I really want to read, but I keep going for my hard copies first. I have a serious addiction to buying books. You should see my bookshelf. It’s overflowing. Literally. Books won’t even stay on it anymore.”
“I would love that. You can never have too many books, right?”
“You are reading my mind.”
The floor creaked above us, and the sound of laughter floated through the air vent. Jackson flicked his eyes to the ceiling. “I should go,” he sighed but made no attempt at getting up. I looked into his eyes and wished he could stay with me.
“Where do you sleep?” I asked, the thought suddenly occurring to me.
“I have a room upstairs,” he said. “I used to stay down here, but Zane thought some of the girls looked at me.” He raised an eyebrow and shook his head as if he couldn’t believe anyone would ever look at him the same way they looked at Zane. “There’s not much—” he cut off and quickly turned his head to look at the stairs.
“What?” I asked, nerves prickling.
“Someone’s in the kitchen.”
I stood and waved my hands. “Go! Before you get in trouble!” I walked with him to the stairs. He turned, our eyes meeting again. He gave me one more small smile and jogged up the stairs.