Page 65 of Kiss Marry Kill
He needed answers and no one was giving them. How in the ever-loving fuck did a civilian get into a fucking mansion with a gate, cameras all around the perimeter, a state-of-the-art alarm system and damn security constantly conducting surveillance?
“I want fucking answers,” he roared, and slammed his fist on the table, scattering the blueprints they had laid out.
“Jax . . .” Megan whispered, but Joey cut her off.
“Megan, Jax,” he said, with a chin nod. “Let’s go talk outside.”
“Not until I get answers,” Jax said with heated eyes.
“I said outside, now.” Joey, who was by no means a small man, immediately got Jax’s attention with his no-nonsense tone. Megan was visibly shaken and Jax was worried that whatever Joey would say was going to freak her out more. He was trying and failing to control his anger over the fuckup. “Sweetheart, why don’t you stay inside? I’ll go talk to Joey.”
“No. I want to know what’s going on. I need to know.”
“Let me worry about it,” he said, tucking a wisp of hair behind her ear.
She pushed his hand away, “No, Jax. You’re being condescending, I’m a grown-ass woman and this is my house. I need to know.” She followed Joey outside, and so did Jax.
“What’s going on, Joey?” she asked, impatiently.
“Cops just left. Filed a report, they took the mouse and the box but we had already checked for prints. We think Ryan jumped the front gate because the motion sensors didn’t go off by the water out back, and we tested them and they’re working just fine. That only leaves the front gate.”
“What’s the plan?” Jax asked.
“We’re pulling the tapes from the cameras and we’re going to tighten shit up out front and out back.” Joey said.
“Call Dawson. I want the latest shit he has on the market. I told you that when we first got here and you vetoed it. Now I’m saying it’s gotta be done. I should’ve done that from day one.” Dawson was a genius on state-of-the-art security systems. Sure, Dawson would be overkill, but they needed overkill—they needed panic rooms, bulletproof windows, iris recognition scanners in all the major entryways, and whatever the hell else he had up his sleeve. “In fact, I’ll call him myself. I want him as consultant on this. Why did I listen to you? Security is my gig. You’re IT.”
Joey glared at Jax, who stood there completely unfazed like he did when they argued.
Fight back, motherfucker.
A good brawl would help him release some of his rage, even though he didn’t necessarily want to direct it toward Joey.
“Stop it, guys,” Megan began, but Joey cut her off.
“Fuck you very much, Jackson! I may be better at IT than you but that doesn’t mean I don’t know security. And just because you’re a fucking meathead who thinks the answer to everything is running your fist through someone’s face, doesn’t mean you know security more than I do. You’re off, Jax, and you know it. You’re not thinking straight. Dawson is overkill. You’ll have to endure a month of construction.”
“There’s a decapitated mouse on her fucking bed. I want overkill!” he barked.
“Fine. I don’t agree, but if that’s what you want, I’ll call him.” He turned to Megan. “Megan, honey, this is your house and you’re the client, is this what you want?”
She looked back and forth between the two men. “If Jax thinks it’s necessary . . .”
“Okay, I’ll call him,” Joey said.
Noise from inside the house had them all turning around in confusion. One of his employees came out. “Hey boss, there’s a Ms. Sloan here for Ms. Cruz.”
* * *
“Taylor?” Megan jumped up and down happily, apparently forgetting her problems for the moment. “It’s Taylor! Let her in! Oh my god, Taylor’s here.”
“I take it Taylor is an approved visitor?” Joey asked.
“She’s one of the Ts in TNT,” Jax said, following Megan inside the house, feeling a little bit less furious—and more just plain irritated.
“Nelly is the ‘N,’ I already know about her. Who’s the other T?” Joey asked.
“Some chick named Tamara who’s outta the picture. Works at the mall. Checked her out and ruled her out already,” Jax said, just as Megan was about to answer.
