“That’s my ride to the rental place,” Jason said, waving to the driver as she hopped out. “Just a minute.”
The young blonde nodded and opened the passenger door before averting her gaze.
“You travel in style,” Emma teased, avoiding the dread creeping through her at the thought of letting him go.
He shrugged and gave her a half smile. “Perk of being one of the bosses now, I guess.”
Her lungs constricted. Would she ever see him again?
He cut off her thoughts with a bone-melting kiss that quickened her pulse and made her knees wobbly. “I’ll see you later,” he said firmly, following her earlier directive about goodbyes to the letter before wrapping her in a tight hug.
Before she could muster a response, he released her and slid into the backseat of the car, never looking back once as it drove away.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
TWELVE DAYS AFTER Jason said goodbye to Emma in Lucerne, he stood at his parents’ kitchen counter in his childhood home in Walnut Creek sipping his third heavily sugared coffee of the day while his family silently imploded.
His mom was currently stress-cleaning the counters and shooing away all of his offers to help with the lunch mess. She’d left her hair natural today, and the dark coils formed a fluffy cloud around her pretty face. If it weren’t summer, she would’ve taken BART through the tunnel this morning to Berkeley, where she’d been a high school chemistry teacher for most of his life.
Mom’s mother, Grandma Jackson—who now lived with his parents in Byron’s old bedroom—sat out back on the patio smoking a Lucky Strike, and Jason’s dad had gone for a run.
His halmuhni, who required more care than his parents could provide, lived in a nursing home. Stubborn as always, once she learned about Byron’s involvement with Renfro Warner, she had refused all visitors, even after Jason drove to neighboring Concord earlier in the day to see her.
He and his parents had only been back in the US since yesterday afternoon, and the tension in their home was enough to choke him. Byron had survived his injuries and was now under house arrest in Hardy Beach while he finished recovering from his wounds. He’d spent the previous week being interviewed by the FBI while his and Warner’s exploits were mentioned on every news show and in every paper. Not top of the hour or above the fold—he hadn’t been as famous as Harvey Weinstein or Prince Andrew—but still unavoidable.
For better or worse, Emma and FPP had made that happen, though she hadn’t avoided attracting a small spotlight herself. For that matter, neither had Jason. His part in the takedown, along with his old Hot Stuff campaign, was all over social media and the tabloid news channels, more fodder for sensation seekers who didn’t know anything real or important about him.
He’d quit looking at the news altogether, silenced unknown callers, and was letting Tyler sift through his voicemails for anything important. The jury was still out on whether Jason’s involvement with the Warner case would have an impact on Steele—good or bad—but that was the least of his concerns right now.
After Tyler had somehow gotten a new iPhone overnighted to the hotel in Lucerne, Jason had discovered a full voicemail box and messages from dozens of people. He’d only had eyes for contact from Emma.
He missed her. The beautiful smile she hadn’t had enough occasions to use lately. Her cool under pressure. Her intellect. The crescent-shaped cluster of freckles at the top of her right thigh…
They’d shared a few short phone calls and some brief text exchanges, but they’d both been busy. After she went to Paris, Jason had stayed in Switzerland another ten days, until Byron was cleared by his doctor to fly to the US with an air marshal escort.
Jason had come home with his parents after his brother returned to Hardy Beach—with a nurse and his bodyguards—to recover while under house arrest, but he felt superfluous here, and so many days without seeing Emma left him feeling queasy.
The atmosphere in his parents’ house didn’t help.
His mom’s new daily ritual hadn’t stopped when they left Switzerland. Before Jason had even had coffee this morning, she’d erupted into tears. Then she’d chastised him for his role in Byron’s downfall, his lack of loyalty. She’d railed at an imaginary Byron for bringing shame to the family and turning away from the values they’d taught him. She’d blamed herself and Dad for not somehow recognizing what their oldest son had become.
She even went after Byron’s wife—also in absentia, since Mallory and the kids had fled to her family’s home in Georgia. “That social climber always cared more about being able to rub shoulders with the right folks than she did about Byron. Putting on airs, and spending money they didn’t have on fancy dresses and luxury cars. No wonder he was desperate—” His mom’s face crumpled then, her tears acknowledging that there was no excuse for what Byron had done.
Her description of Mallory had made Jason think of Lauren, and so many others from his past, who’d only wanted him for what he could do for them, not for the man he was.
Maybe he and Byron weren’t so different after all. A scary thought.
“Mom, how can I help?” he asked now, feeling useless and unwelcome.
She scowled and scrubbed hard enough to take the shine off the old, uneven ceramic tiles. “Unless you have a time machine so we can go back and fix this, I think you’ve done enough.” Then, she burst into tears again.
“Mom—” He started to round the counter, but stopped when his dad entered the room, his straight black hair stuck to his forehead and his shirt mostly soaked through with sweat.
“Enough, Iris,” Gerard Chin said softly, giving Jason an apologetic head tilt as he tugged the distraught woman into his arms. “This isn’t JJ’s fault.”
“I know,” she sobbed, her voice muffled against his chest as her shoulders shuddered. “I’m sorry, honey.”
Jason held in a sigh. “It’s okay, Mom.”
