“Just thought I’d put it out there. Be careful, will you?”
She didn’t respond, just slipped her purse over her shoulder and climbed out of the cab. For a moment or two, he simply watched her stroll across the lot, because the rear view of her was just about as enticing as the front.
At the pump, Jackson swiped his credit card and inserted the nozzle into the gas tank. All the while, he kept constant watch of his surroundings, and his muscles tensed when the Range Rover drove into the lot and swung into a parking spot in front of the store. A chunky white guy in his early twenties wearing droopy drawers and an oversized Bucs jersey climbed out of the passenger side and shuffled into the store.
Tank full, Jackson returned the nozzle to its slot and climbed back into the truck. His seat in the cab was high enough to afford him a view of the store’s interior, and his pulse ramped up when he saw no sign of Essie. No sign of the guy from the Range Rover either. Granted, he couldn’t see every square inch of the store’s interior, but they shouldn’t be that hard to spot.
Jackson dialed Essie’s number but the call went straight to voice mail. Blood pressure rising, his left hand curled around the steering wheel as he jammed the key into the ignition and started the truck. If she didn’t come out in the next thirty seconds, he was blocking the Range Rover into its spot and going into the store after her.
He was putting the truck into gear when Essie emerged from behind one of the racks near the soda machine. With a swing in her hips, she strode past the register, out the door, and past the Range Rover. She hopped into the cab and closed the door, her spy face firmly in place.
“Well?” he asked as she fastened her seat belt without saying a word.
The convenience store door flew open, and Droopy Drawers ran out like his hair was on fire. He jumped into the Range Rover, and the car peeled out of the lot.
The hint of a smile curved Essie’s lips. “Either Vaughn’s desperate or he thought it would be funny to hire college kids to follow us around and report our movements. He fed them a bullshit story about him working for the NSA and us being domestic terrorists planning an attack at one of the theme parks.”
Jackson blinked several times, his jaw dropped open. “They actually believed that shit?”
“It’s really not that surprising. Think of all the stupid things people believe just because they saw it on the internet.”
Well, she had a point there. There were fools out there who swore up and down that Tupac was still alive and living large in Malaysia. Shaking his head, Jackson put the truck into gear and pulled away from the pump. “I assume you convinced him otherwise.”
Her grin broadened to a wicked smile that lit his nerve endings on fire. “They and their buddies in the 4Runner won’t be following us around anymore.”
Jackson slanted her a look while he waited for an opening in traffic. He loved seeing her like this, all calm, and confident, and completely in her element. “What did you tell him? I’m dying to know.”
“It’s probably best if you didn’t. You know, for the sake of plausible deniability.”
She gripped the grab handle as he pulled back onto the road. Traffic hadn’t gotten any better, but it wouldn’t be much longer until they reached the expressway. From there it was a short drive home, which was good, because his stomach was beginning to growl.
“What do you want for dinner tonight?” he asked.
“That depends. Whose turn is it to cook?”
“Mine.” Technically, it was Navarre’s turn, but he had something going on after work and wouldn’t be home until late. “I was thinking about grilling a steak. Does that work for you?”
Before she could answer, Essie’s phone rang in her purse. She accepted the call, and her features hardened as she listened to whoever was on the line. “College kids, seriously? Since when do you troll frat houses? I expected better from you.” She ran one hand through her hair while she listened to the other person speak. “Hmm…that’s an interesting offer, but I think I’ll respectfully decline. Yes, I’m fully aware of that.” She flipped the visor down to shield her eyes from the late afternoon glare. “It’s not too late for you to do the right thing. If you change your mind, let me know.”
“I take it that was your boy,” Jackson said after she ended the call.
“Yeah.” She slipped her phone back into her purse. Her posture was rigid, while her eyes scanned the scenery as though she suspected Vaughn was close. “He said it was my last chance to walk away before things got ugly.”
Jackson’s hands tightened around the steering wheel as he merged onto the expressway. What he wouldn’t give for five minutes alone with that asshole. “What do you think he’ll do?”
“I don’t know, but I’m sure I won’t like it.”
Still full from dinner, Essie watched from her spot on the couch as the hero in the movie jumped out of a speeding van. He rolled on the asphalt a couple of times, got up without any visible scratches or bruises, and fired a single shot that miraculously caused the van to explode. “This movie is ridiculous.”
“I know; that’s why I picked it.” Jackson grinned as he crossed the room with a beer in his hand and reclaimed his seat on the recliner. He’d changed from his work clothes and looked good enough to eat in faded jeans and a blue T-shirt that molded to his shoulders and chest. His rock-hard biceps stretched the sleeves, and she couldn’t help but notice a new tattoo among the collection adorning his arms.
Back in the day, this was the kind of movie they watched when they really didn’t want to watch anything. They would have been naked and sweaty long before the guy jumped out of the van. Her skin flushed at the memory. If Jackson thought it might nudge her in that direction, he was sorely mistaken.
“So you made the conscious decision to torment me?”
Jackson’s grin broadened to a smile. “Nah, I just love watching you tear this shit apart. You never miss a thing. I bet you could make some serious bank as a movie consultant for stuff like this.”
She doubted that. Much to her chagrin, she got the impression that huge explosions and over-the-top action sequences were more important to movie producers than realism. Considering how much this film earned at the box office, the public seemed fine with it too. “Do we have to finish it?”
