Page 93 of Kiss Marry Kill
“Jackson,” she exhaled. He was being completely unreasonable and overbearing and not even trying to listen, but it all made sense to her at that moment. He was pushing her away because he was scared. He’d never admit it, but he was scared that if his heart was on the line and she was hurt . . .
“You once told me only to do things that made me happy. You said that would put everything into perspective. And except for the last few days, you make me happy, regardless of all the shit going on around us. So I’ve chosen happy. I choose to take that risk with you. I’ve made it clear, I’ve made my choice. Now you need to stop and decide if I make you happy.”
He let out a breath and tossed his phone on the bed. “C’mere, Megan.” He pulled her to him by the wrist. “I’m going to explain this one time, then I’m going back to work. I have a meeting with the hotel security in five minutes and then when I get back we need to talk and you’re going to listen.”
“I’m not some soldier you can bark orders at.” Megan’s voice was calm. “And nothing that happened with Ryan was your fault, if that’s why you dumped me. Stop blaming yourself and stop pushing me away and answer my question. Do I make you happy?”
“I’m trying to do my job. Stop being difficult and talking about us when what we need to be talking about is your safety.”
“I’m not being difficult!” Now she was getting frustrated. He’d put her through hell the last couple of days and she wanted an explanation. “I know what’s going through your mind and you need to stop.”
He glowered at her, his eyes murderous. It was the first time she actually realized how big and imposing he was. “I don’t think you do know. Because if you fucking knew you’d give me some goddamn slack to do my fucking job.”
“Ryan is in jail in Miami. There’s no threat here. What happened happened. It’s all over now.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about! The reason I’m back is because he isn’t acting alone.”
She stopped cold and grabbed on to the table next to her. “What?”
“The prints we took, they don’t match the one on the box with the dead mouse.”
“Oh my god . . .” she exhaled. She closed her eyes and counted to ten and reopened them. “But none of this is your fault. And it’s something that Jason and Ben can handle, right? Maybe the fingerprints were wrong. Either way, it’s not your problem anymore.”
He inched forward, and she took a step back. “Are you fucking outta your goddamn mind? We were kissing and not one damn minute later a crazy fucker abducted you while I was standing right next to you. Right the fuck next to you. That fucker’s hand on your neck with a knife—it’s ingrained in my brain!” he yelled, poking roughly at his head. “I see it every time I close my eyes, every time I look at you. I see his hand gripping your hair and dragging you out of the car!”
“Jax, it’s not . . .”
“Stop it, Megan! I lost my entire platoon in Iraq. Seven men that I considered brothers. Loved them and I’m still dealing with that loss. Served with them on two tours, hung out while on dwell time, got to know their families. They were my friends, my family. I’m just now, over a year later, coming to terms with their death, which took a lot of fucking therapy, by the way. But if you—if you, Megan, if you were killed . . . I would die. I would not survive that. I won’t. I would lose my goddamn mind. So I’m not going to calm down. Every single fucking person is a suspect as far as I’m concerned. I love you, but I love you alive and if that means being a dick, so be it. I have a meeting with the hotel’s security. Do not, for the love of God, open the door for anyone. Not anyone.” With that he was gone, slamming the door behind him.
He loves me?
Megan paced around the room. She wanted to go after him and kiss him—or punch him, she wasn’t sure. She had a lot of things running through her mind and didn’t know where to start, so she decided to give him space. He needed to cool down and she needed to process what he’d just told her. And she also needed a shower to get all the gunk off her hair and face.
Megan startled when she heard the front door opening and closing an hour later. Jumping off the bed in her pajamas, she walked out to see Jax tossing his wallet and keycard on the table. His hair was sticking up all over the place and there were dark circles under his eyes. “We have access to the service entrance and exits as well as the service elevators. There’s guards all over. Luckily, it wasn’t difficult to reinstate the original plan.”
“Jackson—”
“I called the office and Joey’s sending two other guys we’ve used before. They only work for us when we need a hand and they weren’t busy.”
“Jackson—”
“Do not give me shit about adding more people to the team,” he said, running his hand through his hair. “I got a bad fucking feeling and I’m not going to explain shit again.”
“Would you stop!” she yelled and tugged on his beard. “I’m trying to talk. Stop cutting me off and listen, damn it!”
He had his arms crossed over his chest and an eyebrow arched up. “Sit,” she said, pointing to the nearby sofa. Two angry people wouldn’t resolve a thing, so she made the decision to soften a little. It didn’t mean she wasn’t still hurt or upset at the way he handled things, but she needed him to know the way she felt. “Please, honey. Sit.”
He let out a breath and followed her to the sofa. She pulled out her phone, swiped to the track she wanted, and held the phone out to him. “Listen to this.”
“Megan, I’ve heard your music before. I don’t have ti—”
“Just listen. This is one I wrote. The first one I wrote. Listen to it. Really listen.”
Leaning forward, looking as stressed out as anyone could look, he held the phone in his hand, his forearms resting on his thighs.
Promise me you’ll always sing.
Promise me you’ll always laugh.
