Jackson knew he was right, guilt piling on top of fury. “I fucked up, but I’m here to unfuck it. I’ll tell you everything. It’s cards-on-the-table time.”
The chief eyed him speculatively. “Sounds sensible. Neither you nor your father have broken the law by borrowing from a loan shark. There’s help available.”
“That’s where this begins to get muddy,” Jackson muttered, running his hands through hair already rumpled multiple times in the car. “And I’m going to need that help.”
“Then I think we’d better take this inside,” Martinez suggested.
“You screwed with Addlestone-Black’s supply chain, just like you screwed with ours.”
Jackson pushed past his dad as soon as he opened their front door. The drive from Pine Springs to Oak Brook had given him the focus he needed for this confrontation.
“Shouldn’t you be checking over the final details for the auction?” His father followed him through to the kitchen, where his mother sat in a sharp stream of sunlight with her laptop, browsing holiday listings. Jackson marveled at her obliviousness, seething anew at the layers of his dad’s deception.
“I spoke with Max Addlestone-Black this morning.” He watched for a reaction and found it in the slight narrowing of his dad’s eyes, the twitch of his mom’s lips. “No wonder you wanted my attention away from sales and scheduling. You needed control of that yourself. You manipulated my orders, disrupted my rosters, so you could sweep in and play God, knowing you’d made me doubt myself enough to step back. I’d have noticed you fucking with Addlestone-Black if I was still dealing with the suppliers.”
Jackson remembered the hours he’d spent at his desk, combing through paperwork, again and again, beating himself up for mistakes that were never his. And the betrayal burned at the lining of his lungs.
“Corporate games are all about being five steps ahead of the competition, Jackson. Everyone’s playing them but some people are better at it. You should know that.” Alistair straightened a small pile of mail on the table.
“Not everyone is calling on fake investors to waste time and screw with the funding on the projects of their main rival, though, are they? Not everyone is taking that warfare to an insane level for no reason. And not everyone is turning those mind games on their own fucking son just to come out on top.”
“Your father made Hale Evolution what it is today. I’m sure he knows best.” His mother’s eyes swung between them, eyebrows furrowed.
“You think so?” Jackson had no more patience for her blind cluelessness. “Ask him to tell you about Landon Peake and the loan he took out then. The insurance policy he cancelled. The reason for your smashed windows. Ask him to tell you why I’ve sold my condo. Why my car will be next. Ask him why the fuck he’s let me do that while he’s played me for a fool.” His hands gripped the chairback in front of him, his knuckles white. His mother’s mouth flapped like a ventriloquist’s dummy. “Ask him if he would have felt any kind of responsibility if Amity Court had burned to the ground last night with Leah inside.”
His dad slumped heavily against the kitchen counter, his cheeks draining of color. “Was it Peake?”
“Of course it was Peake,” Jackson spat.
“But the house is OK?”
A swell of murderous rage lit Jackson up from the inside. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” he hissed. “The house is just a building. Leah was inside!”
His father cleared his throat. “Let’s not get hysterical, Jackson. I’m not an animal. I presume you’d have told us immediately if Miss Raven had been injured.”
“She is alright, isn’t she?” his mother asked, her hands wringing in her lap.
Jackson nodded, not trusting his voice as he relived his frantic nighttime drive to Amity Court. He could barely bring himself to look at his father. “I want out, Dad. I won’t be your fall guy anymore. And I can’t work with you after this.”
There was so much relief in finally saying the words.
“Dammit—you’re just like Dominic.” His father spat it out like an accusation. There was a fine layer of sweat on his upper lip. “He never understood the need for ruthlessness in business either.”
The comparison floored Jackson in a way his dad hadn’t intended. Dom’s smile flooded his memory. Dom’s kind steadiness. His happy-go-lucky support. His innate goodness.
“I think,” he said hoarsely, “that’s the nicest thing you’ve said to me. I’ve only ever had our differences hammered home but I can’t think of anyone I’d rather be likened to.” His voice was choked, his resolve as steady as it had ever been. “You can take this as my two weeks’ notice. I’m heading over to the venue now. I want to make sure everything runs smoothly tonight. For Dom.”
Chapter 48
Leah
Leah trusted Florence’s taste and knowledge of what might pass for sophisticated elegance way more than she did her own. She wanted to look like someone completely different for a night. Someone who would be comfortable in the smart surroundings, and confident in a room full of strangers. She wanted to do Esther proud and knock Jackson’s socks off while she did it.
Florence arrived within the hour, clutching an armful of evening dresses she’d raided from the closets of two friends closest in size and shape to Leah. Fortunately, both girls proved to have exquisite taste. The dress they finally settled on was made from a black, whisper-weight material which hugged Leah’s curves and yet let her breathe. Designed with an eye-catching mermaid hem and a daring cutout detail beneath halter-neck spaghetti straps, it was a floor-length miracle of a dress; it did everything she wanted and more.
And what the dress didn’t do on its own, Florence did to her hair. With sleight of hand and a ridiculous number of pins, Leah’s wayward curls were teased into the most elegant of updos, just messy enough to add a little edge to her flawless appearance.
“Don’t fiddle with it and it’ll hold,” Florence instructed, batting away Leah’s hand when it crept up to play nervously with a loose strand by one ear. She only hoped she’d remember to follow the instruction.
