Sweetest Sin: Bad Boy Bundle (29 page)

“No shit?” I turn to Jackson.

“No shit,” he chuckles.

I’m not sure why I’m so surprised to hear Jackson claim California as his home. I’d seen him every step of my journey since leaving Los Angeles.  Yet somehow I hadn’t expected to come all the way to Thailand just to meet someone who lived right down the road from me.

“Where in California?”

“Does it matter?”

“Well, no. I guess not. It’s just that I’m from California. That’s all.”

“California’s pretty big.” Jackson chuckles. “More than one person is bound to be from there.”

“No. That’s not what I meant,” I blush and get tangled in my words.

“Yea, I know you!” One of the other guys by the fire speaks up.

Jackson and I both look over at him. My stomach jumps into my throat.

“What?” I say. My voice cracks.

“Yea. You were on the news.” He’s pointing at me now.

I shake my head and gaze into the fire. A lump catches in my throat and my stomach clenches.

“You’re mistaken,” Jackson answers.

I turn around. My eyes dart from Jackson to the other man. That man stares at Jackson while Jackson stares into the fire. That’s when I realize he isn’t talking to me after all.

“What is he talking about?” I ask in a whisper.

Jackson
shakes his head, as if that will change the subject. “Nothing. He doesn’t know what he’s talking about.”

I glance back over at the other guy, whose smile is now plastered and fake. Visibly confused and trying to sort out his thoughts. “No. No, I’m right. You’re that guy from San Bernardino. Yea, you were all over the news.” He finally turns his gaze away from Jackson and starts talking to the other girls around him. “He was crying and everything. Threatening to sue the police department. Called them all rent-a-douchepigs.”

“That’s enough,” Jackson spits out his words. “I said you don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Come on, Cody. Just drop it. He says it’s not him,” the other girl says.

“No, it’s him. He has one of those names. You know? Like a backwards name. His first name is his last name and his last name is his first name or some crazy shit like that. What is it? Jefferson Jacobs or something like that. Right? Come on tell them.”

Jackson grit his teeth. His arm muscles tighten and spasm as he stares into the fire.

“Yea, it’s him. He goes on television acting like such a big man. Threatening to sue the police department and then when the DA tells him he can’t he starts crying like a little bitch!”

Clearly, Cody has no intentions of stopping.

I gaze over at Jackson.

“Knock it off, Cody.” This time the girl rolls her eyes as she asks him to back off.

“Listen to your girl, there,
Cody
.” Jackson says.

Cody scoffs and tosses his empty beer bottle into the fire. The sand kicks up and catches her in the face.

“What the fuck, Cody.”

“Shut up.”

This time, Jackson scoffs.

“What’s so funny over there?”

“Nothing,” Jackson says. “Absolutely nothing.”

“Fuck you.” Cody stands up and jerks the beer bottle from my hand as he yells at Jackson.

I rub my hand where the glass bent my knuckle the wrong way.

Jackson jumps to his feet. “What the fuck is your problem?”

Cody doesn’t bother answering him with words. He pulls his fist back and launches it at Jackson’s face. His punch connects with Jackson’s jaw and Jackson is thrown back off his feet.

I scramble to get out of the way as Jackson tucks in and rushes Cody. He shoves his shoulder into Cody’s rib cage and pushes him back off his feet.

Cody kicks up, crushing his knee into Jackson’s crotch.

Jackson falls to his knees. Clutching his stomach.

Cody kicks up more sand. “Fucking bitch,” he scoffs as he walks away. He grabs the woman’s hand and pulls her to her feet to follow him before walking off.

After Cody and the other woman walk away from the fire, I crawl over to Jackson to check on him. His cheeks are flushed and he’s holding his breath.

“Are you okay?” I whisper.

Jackson clamors to his feet. He stands for a moment, testing to be sure his balance holds up, then walks away without a word. I glance around for a second, wondering if I should chase after Jackson or stay where I’m at. After all, it’s not like I’m his girlfriend or anything. Or even like I want to be his girlfriend. This is changing from a relaxing vacation filled with one night stands, hot flings, and the start of a great novel to a complicated, tangled mess.

Complicated or not, I should at least go check on him
.

I jog to catch up to Jackson. I don’t say a word to him. Just walk along beside him as he leads me back up to the hotel. I pause briefly at the front desk to grab my room key, then follow Jackson into the elevator and up to our rooms.

Not one word floats between us.

Jackson walks to his room, unlocks the door, and steps inside. Alone. While I stand in the hallway wondering what my next move should be, the door shuts in front of me.

I stand in the hallway. Alone. Dumbfounded. The walls muffle the music from outside, but I can still hear it. Drums beating.

It’s intoxicating.

The smell of burning wood lingers on my dress.

I sweep my hotel key through the lock and step inside my room. My breath catches at the sight of Jackson leaning against the rails on the shared patio. I take a deep breath and shake the nerves out of my hands. Then I approach the patio door and slide it open.

Jackson doesn’t move.

He doesn’t even turn to look at me. I’m not sure if he’s noticed I’m there. Maybe he thinks I’m still down at the party?

I clear my throat, hoping it will alert him to me presence without scaring him or pissing him off.

“
You
don’t have to hide back there. I’m not going to flip out on your or anything.” Jackson mutters.

“I didn’t. I mean I don’t think you’re going to flip out on me. I just wasn’t sure if you wanted company or not.”

“But you’re out here.”

“Well. I guess I just wanted to make sure you were okay,” I whisper.

He turns around, leaning back against the patio railings.

“Yea. But if you want me to leave you alone, I will. I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“It’s your patio, too. Right? You paid same as I did.”

I nod my head and walk closer to the railing to look over at the beach. “Looks like we got out of there in time,” I whisper.

Drum beats are slowly being drowned out by police sirens. And bon fires are being doused while lights flash. People are running in scattered patterns around the party.

“I guess you were right,” he says. “Looks like that party was illegal after all.”

The lights mesmerize me.

After a few minutes, I take in a deep breath and turn back to the door. “Well, I think I’m just going to go turn in. It’s been a long night. And if you’re okay, then.”

“That’s probably best. Wouldn’t want you to get involved in anything so complicated.”

“Right,” I whisper. I stay back for a minute, thinking that I should say something. Anything. But then I think that Jackson’s mood is just going to get worse instead of better.

Better to just take his word and head into my room. So I do. I walk back into my room and slide the door behind me. I just don’t quite let it latch.

Something about latching the door in Jackson’s face hits me as wrong. Rude.

I glance over my shoulder. Jackson is facing out again. His back turned to me and the door. Not showing any interest in my company at all.

Well, that’s one way to make sure this ends with a clean break
I think to myself.

As
the last of the drum beats fade out in the distance, I turn the water on in the shower. Steam inches across the mirrors and fills the room.

Every muscle in my body melts under the hot water. I arch my back and lean up against the cold tile of the wall. Water drops sting my skin and roll off my curves. Taking with them the sand and the dirt. The stress.

The knots.

I take in a deep, steamy breath and stretch.

I stay in the shower until the heat is drained from the water. Until the drops of water run chills up my spine. When the water shuts off, the hotel room greets me with complete silence.

I step out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel. The room is dark. The patio is empty and devoid of Jackson’s light. I take in a deep breath and sink down into the recliner. My flight leaves in the early afternoon, and I know I should be packing. But my lazy side wins out and instead of getting back up and organizing my clothes into folded little piles, I grab my tablet and hop into the internet.

It’s the first time I’ve checked my email in over a week. Since I quit my job.

Four hundred and ninety three unread emails. 493. In a week. I roll my eyes and start to skim through some of the subject lines.

Hey, you okay?

OMG I saw what happened. Need to talk?

Kirsten!

Did you see him?

Hey, sorry I didn’t answer my phone.

Did you seriously just quit your job?

I take in a deep breath and close my email. Whatever notes are sitting there can certainly wait a little longer before I read them.

Facebook is filled with the same thing. Messages upon messages. Some from friends, some from others. All wanting answers.

And yet that’s it. Newsfeeds across the board are devoid of anything. Other than the people burning for an answer, it only took a week for memory of everything to be lost.

Tears sting at the back of my eyes. Thankfully, a knock at the door draws my attention away from the lump in my throat.

I tighten the towel around my chest and walk over to check who is at the door. A piece of me hopes to see Jackson staring back in at me.

I don’t.

Instead of Jackson’s bright smile, the front desk clerk is checking his hair in the mirrors hanging on the wall across from the door.

I hold my breath and debate letting him in. After all, he’s very nice. Cute. And it would help keep my mind off Jackson. But I’m also not sure that I even want to deal with anything. I grab my robe and throw it on over the towel.

“Hi!” I smile when I open the door.

“Hi. Miss Anders. This message came into the front desk for you.” He hands me a scribbled note on a piece of hotel stationery.

“Thanks,” I say as he jaunts down the hall.

I close the door and swing the deadbolt back into place. I have no idea why I’m so disappointed in the short conversation. I really thought he was up here to flirt with me. Or ask me out. Something. And I didn’t really want the attention when I expected it. But for him to just drop off a message like it was just anything else and walk away? I felt rejected and hurt.

“Kirsten, you have been here too long. Shit’s starting to fuck with your head,” I say as I shake my head and throw myself back onto the bed.

I unfold the note.

What the fuck are you doing in Thailand!

I toss the note back over onto the night stand and roll over. This is definitely an argument that I can have later. Sometime next week.

I rolled out of bed the next morning with a jump. Somehow I had lost most of the morning to my slumber. I had less than three hours to pack and get checked into the airport. Time to race.

And race I did. A quick rinse in the shower and my clothes flying across the room. Landing in the suitcase in a jumbled mess.

And just as what happened days ago, everything is fighting against me. The zipper on my suitcase catches and falls off its tracks, forcing me to fight just to get my suitcase zipped up and closed. I finally get the carry on packed up and toss that out into the hallway. Some small piece of me is hoping the noise will draw Jackson out of his room. Or maybe he’s leaving today, too. Maybe I’ll see him at the airport.

This new thought lights a fire under my ass and motivates me to move faster. I sprint through the bathroom, tossing hygienics into my last bag and run out of the hotel room. Jackson’s room door is wide open. I glance back and forth down the hallway before peering into his room.

A man walks out of his room carrying a pile of towels.

I guess he already left
.

I let the hotel room close behind me, grab my bags, and run down the hallway to the elevator.

Downstairs, the line of people trying to check out of the hotel is much longer than I thought it would be. How many people need to leave the hotel, anyway? I finally make my way through the line up to the front desk, only to realize that I left my hotel key upstairs in my room. Along with my purse.

Now I need to run all the way back upstairs. And with the crowd at the front desk, I can’t just leave my bags behind. So I have to drag them behind me like the unorganized lunatic that I am and hoof it down the hallway. I catch the housekeeping man a couple rooms down from Jackson’s.

“Hi. I’m sorry. Please, I left my purse and my key in my hotel room. Can you please just let me in there so I can bring them downstairs? I’m trying to check out so I can catch my plane.”

The man smiles and grabs his keys. He escorts me back to my room and unlocks the door for me. He waits in the doorway while I run through the room and grab my purse and key from the night stand.

And then I run back down the hallway again. The elevator doors shut just as I reach for the button. Of course. I check the time on my cell phone and tap my foot impatiently.

“Come on, come on,” I say as I press button over and over again. “Hurry up.”

Finally, the elevator reaches me and I load up to head downstairs.

Somehow, the line at the front desk hasn’t shrunk any. Once again I’m standing in line. Huffing at how slow everyone seems to be moving. When the line starts to move and I finally get back to the front desk, I slap my hotel key up on the counter. “Hi. Checking out.”

The pleasant lady behind the counter smiles and grabs my key as she starts pounding at the keys on her keyboard. A few minutes later, I am grabbing my bags and running out of the hotel to catch the shuttle over to the airport.