JACKSON Read online

  He turns around, shaking his head. “I had no idea.”

  “Where is she now?”

  “In New York.” He sips his drink, eyeing me warily.

  “You got an address?” I ask, my foot tapping off the ground.

  “Why? What’re you planning?”

  I scrub a hand over my prickly jaw. “I’m not sure yet. I need to think it through.”

  Hunt sighs, walking back to me. He sits down on the edge of the large coffee table. “I know you don’t like her.”

  I snort out a laugh. “That’s an understatement. In all the years we’ve vacationed in The Hamptons, I’ve never once wet my dick in her pussy. What does that tell you?”

  “That she’s clingy and even you don’t go there.”

  “Exactly.” I prop my feet up on the coffee table, ignoring Hunt’s scowl. “Look how scary she was after Anderson fucked her that one time.” A shudder works its way through me. “Desperate is not a good look on Vanessa, and it’s a shame because she’s hot as fuck. Pity she’s so batshit crazy.”

  “I’ve always felt sorry for her,” Hunt admits.

  “Save me the speech,” I snap, guessing where he’s going with this.

  “I wonder if she knows,” he muses, draining the last of his whiskey.

  “There’s only one way to find out.”

  Hunt narrows his eyes. “What are you going to do?”

  “I think it’s time I paid Vanessa Breen a little visit, don’t you?”

  _______________

  “You got her address yet?” I ask a couple days later when Hunt returns from a hard day at the office. His dad insists he puts the hours in at Techxet, the multibillion-dollar global technology company he will one day inherit.

  Hunt has mad tech skills, and access to a whole team full of expert brains, and he’s our go-to guy when we need something. When you add Xavier Daniels to the mix—he’s another IT genius and Hunt’s sometime bed partner—it feels like we’re unstoppable.

  Which is why the lack of intel on this one simple matter has me all kinds of suspicious. Hunt could get Vanessa’s address in minutes without resorting to his IT skills. One phone call to his parents would do the job.

  “Do you have to be such a slob?” Hunt grumbles, pursing his lips as he bends down to pick up some crumpled soda cans from the floor. I briefly scan the room, wondering what he’s bitching and whining about. Sure, it’s a little messy, but it’s not that bad.

  My wet towel still lies in a heap where I deposited it after my post-run shower, and my sweaty shorts and sneakers rest by the window. The coffee table is littered with used cups and plates and empty cookie and chip packets. Tons of files and papers surround me as I sit on the floor. I had started my investigative work on the couch, but I needed more space to go through all the evidence nerdy Jamison has dug up these past couple months.

  “Florentina will be here tomorrow to clean up,” I remind him. “No need to get your panties in a bunch.”

  Hunt and I lived together for the past year, but it was easier in Rydeville because my house there is over ten-thousand-square feet of prime real estate, and it was easy to forget I was cohabiting. Hunt’s penthouse is more confined, and it shows. His anal ways are grating on my nerves as much as my messiness and lack of care are grating on his.

  “All I ask is that you fucking tidy up after yourself.” He holds his nose while picking up my towel, grimacing like he’s holding soiled boxers. “I cannot live like this all summer.”

  “Don’t take your blue balls out on me,” I shout after him as he walks toward the laundry room. “Tomorrow’s Friday. Call Xavier and get his ass up here. You need to get laid.”

  Hunt glares at me when he returns with a large black garbage bag. “Do not fucking push me, Lauder. And for the last time, Xavier and I are casual and nonexclusive. We’ve barely fucked around and it’s not something I’ll be making a habit of.”

  “If you say so.” I smirk, crawling to the table and tossing some crap into the garbage bag. “Call up one of your secretaries or that bartender chick you had the hots for last summer. Just find someone to fuck, because you’re already getting on my very last nerve.”

  “You want her address or not?” Hunt snaps, clearing away the dirty dishes.

  “So, you’re admitting you have it?”

  “We both know I have it,” he calls over his shoulder. “Whether I’ll give it to you is another thing.”

  I climb to my feet, tying a knot in the bag once all the garbage is cleared.

  “What’s your problem?” I ask, dumping the bag in the laundry room. Florentina can dispose of it tomorrow.

  “I need to know your intentions,” he admits, grabbing a couple of mugs from the overhead cupboard in the kitchen. He switches the Keurig on, loosening his tie as he waits for the coffee to brew.

  “Why? You want in her panties again?”

  “You can’t hurt her,” he says, ignoring my question.

  I quirk a brow, snatching creamer from the refrigerator. “Who said anything about hurting her?”

  Hunt crosses his arms and narrows his eyes at me. “Don’t act dumb. We’ve been friends long enough for me to know the way that fucked-up brain of yours works.”

  “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

  “It wasn’t meant as one.”

  I chuckle as I take the mug of steaming coffee from his hand. “I’m making no promises, dude. And don’t pretend you care. Anderson was a complete prick to Vanessa, and I didn’t notice you stepping in.”

  “It’s different now,” he says, leaning back against the counter.

  “How?” I take a sip of the bitter liquid, enjoying the burn as it glides down my throat.

  “Her stepdad kicked her out last summer. She’s on her own.”

  “Can’t say I blame him. She’s been out of control for years.”

  Hunt stares me out of it. “You are such a fucking hypocrite.”

  “It’s not the fucking same,” I hiss. Anger claws at my insides. “I thought you wanted to help? It’s why I came to you. Why I haven’t said a fucking word to Anderson about what we’re doing.”

  The other reason is Kai is all loved up, and I don’t want to drag him or Abby into this. They’ve dealt with enough shit to last a lifetime. They deserve to be happy, and I know if they knew what I had planned, they’d want in. I don’t want that for them. Which is why only Hunt and I are in the know. It’s why we’re using fucking Jamison to help and not Xavier.

  If Hunt is having second thoughts, I’ll need to revisit my strategy. I’m not holding back this time.

  Atticus fucking Anderson—Kai’s dad—dropped the truth on me just before we moved to Rydeville at the start of senior year. He made me promise to keep that intel to myself and not to take matters into my own hands.

  The bigger picture was more urgent.

  Taking Michael Hearst down had to happen first.

  I understood, but I hated it. However, Atticus promised Christian would be our next priority, and I stupidly believed him. The selfish asshole was lying to all of us. Now, he’s fled overseas, and Christian is MIA too, and I’m kicking myself over all my lost chances.

  I could have taken Christian out on any number of occasions, but I didn’t, and now, I’m full of regret and brimming with hatred.

  “Don’t pull that shit on me.” Hunt slams his mug down, coffee spilling over the edges. “I loved Dani as if she was my big sister too. I want vengeance as much as you do.”

  I know that’s the truth. Sawyer is an only child, and he spent a huge amount of time hanging out at our house when we were kids. Our parents have been friends for years, and we did most things together. Sawyer looked up to Dani the same way I did. What happened to her killed him too.

  But she was my flesh and blood.

  My sister.

  I should have protected her and kept her safe.

  And after she died, I should have taken my revenge. Instead, I spent years wallowing in grief and self-pity,
wasting the opportunity to take care of that bastard Montgomery. Now, he’s hiding overseas, a wanted fugitive, and I’m only one of a number of people searching for his ass.

  “He needs to pay,” Hunt adds.

  “So, what’s the fucking issue?” I shout, throwing my hands in the air.

  “I don’t want you taking any of this out on her. That’s my issue.”

  “I never fucking said that!” I’m fudging on purpose. Truth is, I have realized the last couple nights that the best way of getting to Christian Montgomery is through her.

  I’m prepared to do whatever it takes.

  I couldn’t care less about Vanessa Breen.

  She’s a means to an end.

  And if she gets trampled on the way to my end goal, I sure as fuck won’t lose any sleep over it.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Vanessa

  “I HATE BEING cooped up inside on days like this,” Chloe says in between puffing on her cigarette.

  “I used to spend most of my summers at The Hamptons,” I admit, leaning my head back against the wall and bathing my face under the beating hot sun.

  The small diner I work at, in the heart of the city, is situated on a corner, and there is only a single-story building at the back of us, so there’s no looming monstrosity towering over us, blocking out the light. This tiny alley serves as our meeting point when we’re on a break. Paul, the owner, is a really good guy, and he even put a few tables and chairs out here so we can eat our lunch outside if we want. “So, I basically lived on the beach. I miss it,” I add with a sad smile. “I didn’t properly appreciate it until it was gone.”

  Truth is, I was usually hungover on my lounge chair most days, hiding behind huge sunglasses to mask my bloodshot eyes.

  “Lucky bitch.” Chloe throws her cigarette butt to the ground, stomping on it. “I’ve never been to The Hamptons. I’ve heard it’s wild.”

  “It can be.” Taking a swig from my bottle of water, I reminisce about summers past.

  “What was it like?” she asks, tucking her short red hair behind her ears as she glances at me.

  “The Hunts, and the Lauders, and a whole host of other wealthy families mixed in the same circles as my parents, and it became an unwritten rule that we would spend our summers together,” I start explaining. “Everyone congregated at The Hamptons during summer break. The men would leave during the week to attend to work while the women and kids stayed in their vacation homes. When our teen years hit, the partying started hard. Money was in endless supply. As was booze, weed, prescription pills, and hardcore drugs. I spent most summers high, drunk, or hungover.”

  “Sounds fun.” She waggles her brows.

  “It was, and it wasn’t.” I take another sip of water, not wanting to elaborate. I’ve blocked a lot of it out for a variety of reasons.

  “And you can’t repair things with your folks?” Curiosity lingers in her tone.

  Chloe is the first real best friend I’ve had in a long time, and while I’ve opened up to her a little, she doesn’t know anything about my past, and that’s the way I want to keep it.

  I vigorously shake my head. “It’s complicated, and trust me, it’s for the best.”

  This past year has been tough but liberating. I stayed at a hostel the first few nights until I found this job and Paul agreed to rent the small studio apartment above the diner to me. After I sold my car, I had enough money to cover my rent for the year, and my salary and tips cover everything else.

  I expected the funding for my private school to be cut, but I wasn’t hugely surprised when it wasn’t. My despicable stepmonster is on the board at West Lorian High, and it wouldn’t look good if I didn’t finish my schooling there. I graduated with a three-point-five GPA which I’m proud of, because my academic record is patchy, to say the least.

  “Ladies.” Paul pokes his head out the back door. “We’re swamped in here.”

  “We’re coming,” Chloe says as I recap my water and follow her back inside.

  The next couple hours go by in a blur. The diner is popular with locals, and it’s pretty much always tourist season in New York, so we have a constant line out the door.

  “Couple hotties at the end booth are asking for you,” Mara says while I fix drinks for the family at table ten.

  I raise a brow. “You sure they were talking about me?”

  “They asked for you by name, sweetie,” the older waitress says, placing a hand over her heart. “If I was only younger, I’d make a play for them myself.”

  Chloe nudges Mara with her hip. “Get over yourself, old woman. We both know you’ve already hit on them.”

  I smile when Mara shrugs. “Can’t blame a gal for trying.” She winks at me. “When you get to my age, you’ve got to take your thrills where you can get them!” She walks off, cackling.

  “She’s crazy.” Chloe shakes her head, her lips twitching.

  “Certifiable,” I agree, but we mean it affectionately.

  Mara is like your mom and friend rolled into one. Always good for a laugh, and she doesn’t take herself too seriously, but she’s also the first one to offer sage advice.

  Mara and Paul are siblings, and they’ve owned and run this place the past twenty years. Neither is married, so we are the only family they have. They both have big hearts and a penchant for rescuing strays and orphans, like me.

  There’s no doubt I lucked out when I found this place last summer.

  “Whatcha waiting for?” Chloe asks, swiping my tray. “I’ll deliver this. You go check out the man candy.”

  Tucking some stray strands of my dark-blonde hair behind my ears, I tighten my ponytail and wipe my sweaty hands down the front of my apron. Then, I grab my pen and pad and walk toward the end booth.

  I spot Sawyer Hunt first. Difficult not to when he’s facing my way. His tall frame is upright against the backrest, his features fixed on me, and his stare is intense like a heat-seeking missile.

  Even though I can only see his back, it’s not challenging to figure out who Sawyer’s lunch buddy is. The dirty-blond hair, broad shoulders, and deep chuckle give Jackson Lauder away.

  Nerves punch me in the gut, but I force them aside, plastering a smile on my face. “Hey, guys. Long time, no see.”

  “Hey, Van.” Sawyer smiles. “It’s good to see you.”

  “You too. I didn’t realize you were back in New York.”

  My skin tingles when I feel Jackson Lauder’s hot gaze on the side of my face.

  “Just for the summer,” Sawyer adds, sipping a soda Mara obviously brought him.

  “We’re planning to hit The Hamptons next month,” Jackson says, speaking for the first time. “You in?”

  I turn my head toward him, smothering my shocked gasp. Jackson has always been good-looking, but he has matured into one hot as fuck sexy bastard. His hair is longer at the front, falling stylishly into blue eyes as deep as the ocean. He’s sporting a thin layer of scruff on his chin and jawline, and my fingers itch to explore the angled planes of his face. With a strong nose, high cheekbones, and lips I’ve always longed to taste, Jackson Lauder is sex on a stick.

  My long-forgotten libido awakens, and lust pools low in my belly.

  In a lightning-fast move, Jackson extends his arm, tipping my chin up with his finger. “Careful you don’t catch flies.” He winks, gracing me with the full extent of his killer smile, and I consciously snap myself out of whatever trance I’m in.

  Heat creeps up my neck and on to my cheeks. “Still a cocky asshole,” I mutter.

  “Still cocky,” he agrees, grabbing his crotch suggestively. “You never got up close and personal. We should rectify that.”

  It wasn’t for lack of trying. I cringe as I recall the number of times I threw myself at him. Or the number of times he rebuked me. Which was humiliating because Jackson Lauder is a walking STD. He only has to trip and his cock impales a pussy.

  The queen bees of The Hamptons loved rubbing my nose in it.

  Even though I was
besties with Sawyer—a situation our parents forced—and I hung out with him, Jackson, and Camden a lot, they treated me like I had the plague.

  Except for the time I took Sawyer’s virginity. And that one night, the summer before junior year, when I pounced on a very drunk Camden Marshall and he fucked me. Every other time, they kept me at arm’s length while they happily took other girls for a ride on their cocks.

  “Are you … hitting on me?” Disbelief underscores my tone.

  “What if I am?” Jackson leans his elbows on the table, and his biceps flex and roll with the motion. It’s obvious he has sorted his shit out since I last saw him. I guess that is something we’ve got in common. Although I’m still a work in progress.

  “Then I’d tell you you’re wasting your time,” I lie. “Because I’m not the same person you knew.”

  “Is that right?” He dazzles me with a panty-melting smile.

  Paul calls my name, and I glance over my shoulder, grateful for the interruption. My boss gestures with his hands, urging me to hurry up.

  “You want to order something?” I grip my pen, keeping it poised over my notepad, purposely ending the flirtatiousness.

  “The older waitress took our order,” Sawyer confirms.

  “She’s something else,” Jackson adds, and my lips twitch.

  “I’ve got to get back to work. I’m not part of The Hamptons’ crew anymore, so I won’t be there, but have fun,” I say, moving to walk away.

  “Van, wait.” Sawyer slides out of the booth, gently taking my elbow. He slips a card into my hand. “That’s my number. Text me so I have yours, and if you need anything, call me.”

  “Why?” I blurt, looking up at him as I drop the card into the front pocket of my apron.

  “I don’t know what’s happened, but I know you’re on your own.” His earnest hazel eyes drill into mine. “We were good friends one time.”

  “When we were like ten.” Honestly, every other summer, he avoided me as much as he could.

  He lets my elbow go, holding his hands up. “I have no agenda, Van. If you find yourself in need of a friend, call me.”