All at prime San Franciscan prices.
The location was more about the perception of power rather than actual power, but Jackson had managed to secure some truly reliable—and not criminal—investors in the last few years, ones that didn’t want to use his product to conduct corporate espionage or to unleash an army of bots to try and divide the American people online.
He’d gotten better at discerning, and his business had grown.
But old problems persisted.
Case in point, the man in front of him.
“It’s good to see you, Davis.”
“I wish I could say the same, Plantain,” he muttered, because apparently they were switching to last names. He strode through the door to his office, leaned back against his desk and tried to ignore the memory of doing the same on Molly’s desk . . . and what had happened after. “What are you doing here? Pretending to be in town to watch your sister play again?”
Dan’s sister was a goalie for the San Francisco Gold, the newest expansion team in the NHL.
But hockey didn’t run in the family.
Dan was part of a nameless government agency, a member of a team that had shown up about eight hours after Jackson had called the FBI to report the threats and the dirty investors in his company.
He was also part of the team that was supposed to have already taken down the investor and dismantled the criminal organization, a clan of the Russian mob called the Mikhailova, that had provided it.
“You’re clearly not a sports man,” Dan said. “It’s not even hockey season.”
Jackson sighed, didn’t take the bait. Truth was, he wasn’t much of a sports man. He was too busy saving the business he’d almost torpedoed and then doing his limited part to root out the bad guys involved. “Why are you here?”
Dan sprawled into one of the chairs and announced, “We’ve had a setback.”
Fury tore through him. “This shit was supposed to have been done two fucking years ago.”
No sympathy on the agent’s face. “Sorry to be the one to tell you this, but life doesn’t always work out the way you want it.”
Jackson cursed and thrust a hand through his hair. He knew that. He’d lived that life for the last four years, had tried to stop himself from having to live it for the previous year before that. All for nothing. In the end, he’d had to give everything important up anyway.
Molly gone.
His business in tatters.
“You are not going to tell me to make lemonade out of lemons.”
“How about lemon cake?” Dan said, still sprawling though he smacked his lips. “Fuck, I love lemon cake. In fact, I could go for—”
“What’s the setback?” Jackson said, interrupting him before he could go full soliloquy on the merits of lemon cake. Having heard more than a few of Dan’s tangents over the years, he knew they were neither short nor particularly meaningful.
“You.”
Jackson frowned. “What the fuck are you talking about?”
“You shouldn’t have gone to see her, man,” Dan said, and that one sentence twisted Jackson’s stomach into knots.
He pushed up from the desk and got in Dan’s face. Probably not the smartest thing, especially when he could see the outline of a weapon on the other man’s hip. But fury had overshadowed common sense, at least for the moment “What. The. Fuck. Are you talking about?”
“They saw you go to her.”
Jackson’s heart seized and his throat constricted. “It’s been four years.”
“They saw.”
“It was only a couple of hours.” Hours riddled with both pleasure and guilt.
“Time doesn’t matter with these guys.”
“Fuck.” He leaned back, paced the length of his office. “Fuck!” He turned back. “What are we going to do?”
“I’ve got protection on her.”
Jackson snorted. “The same protection that resulted in her having a fucking gun pointed at her head?”
Dan sighed. “My advice is to continue staying away. Leave her to her life, make sure these guys know that she doesn’t mean anything to you, make sure they don’t use her to get to you. Leave her alone so she can be safe.”
“I did that already, and it didn’t work.”
“You went back.”
“I—” Jackson cut off his excuse. He’d been about to say he’d had to talk to her about the papers, but that was a lie. He could have signed and been done without seeing her. He could have left when she’d so clearly wanted him to. He could have not fucked her against the wall in the single best sexual experience of his life before finally abiding by her wishes and leaving. He’d ruined so much, taken so much—
“Just stay away.”
How could he? He’d tried that for four years. Then one morning in her presence, and he was right back where he’d begun. Obsessing about Molly, thinking of her every waking moment, fighting with himself to not go back to the bakery, to not beg and plead and make her understand that his life without her was meaningless.
Maybe if he hadn’t seen her, he could have continued to resist. Maybe the urge to go back wouldn’t be so acute.
But he had gone back.
And now Jackson was in agony.
“You can’t stay away, can you?” Dan asked quietly.
Silence.
Then, “No.”
“Fuck.” Dan pulled out his cell, considered for a few seconds then began typing. Within a half-minute of him hitting the final key and placing it on his thigh, there was a buzz, signaling a response. He nodded. “If I told you to give me three more months, could you do it?”
Jackson stifled a curse. No, he couldn’t do it. But could he also risk Molly just because he might be in agony for another ninety days?
Also, no.
“Fuck, no, you can’t,” Dan muttered, typing on his cell again. “Okay, here’s what we’re going to do. This is no longer your office. Your office is the bakery. Your ass is in a chair at Molly’s place anytime she’s there. Your presence is known and expected and constant.”
Jackson frowned.
“It’s not a deterrent so much as a declaration. Molly is yours. If you’re always there, they’ll see she belongs with you. That they have to fuck with you to get to her.”
More frowning. “They’ve made it pretty clear they don’t mind fucking with me. Isn’t this going to just unleash more shit onto her?”
“The shit’s already coming, Jackson. But we can just use this to our advantage. Push them to make a move sooner than they’re ready.” Dan shoved his phone in his pocket. “It’s not foolproof. It’s dangerous. But the whole situation is dangerous. So, if you really can’t give me a few months then you have to be prepared to be all in.”
“I’ve been in. Fuck, Dan. I’ve done everything you’ve asked of me. I left the woman I loved. I stayed away from her for years.” He paced away again. “I gave you access to my company, to every document and email and bank account. I did everything—”
“And you’ve got nothing to show for it,” Dan said quietly. “I know, brother. I know what that’s like.”
“Fuck,” he hissed, knowing that he had to make a decision.