I look at her now, taking in the determination written all over her. Organising things for her loved ones, making things happen for them, caring for them, is how Jessica shows her love. I need to stop arguing with her and just let her care for me. “Rose. Give me her number and I’ll call her.”
Jessica blinks. I’ve managed to surprise her, that much is clear. But only for a second, and then she’s all business again. “Good choice.” She taps away on her phone and a moment later, I receive a text from her with Rose’s details.
Rose Braverman is my choice because she’s at the top of Jessica’s list and is known to use force in the same way Jessica does.
“I appreciate you finding her for me,” I say.
“As you should. Now go and call her. This shitshow needs to come to an end. And Jack?”
“Yes?”
“Let’s pray no photos of you shopping in Grafton the other day surface. That outfit wasn’t your best work.”
I grin, loving her sense of humour. “I seem to recall it wasn’t my work at all. If the outfit selection had been left up to me, I would have chosen check golf shorts that you would have been falling over yourself to get close to.”
“Jesus. Please never show me those shorts.” She frowns. “Check? Seriously, you wear that kind of attire these days?”
I don’t own anything check, but she doesn’t need to know that. Not when I see endless conversations with her over this in the future. “You’re gonna love them.”
My phone rings. I don’t recognise the number, but Zane texted me half an hour ago telling me to expect his team soon, so I answer the call.
The guy on the other end cuts straight to the chase. “Axe, Stone Security. I’m about to pull into your place. I’ll clear these assholes out and then come inside. You stay put. Do not come outside.”
“Got it.”
He disconnects without another word.
“Who was that?” Jessica asks.
“Security.”
She follows me to the front of the house where we watch a black SUV pull into my driveway. Tinted windows block our view of the occupants, but my guess is there’s only one. Zane has men all over Australia, and I imagine he pulled the closest guy to get here as soon as possible while flying more in.
The SUV forces its way through the crowd to park close to the front door and a well-built guy exits, moving straight into action. He’s working alone, but he clears my front yard within fifteen minutes. As he’s getting rid of the last photographer, two large RVs and a LandCruiser pull into the drive. He directs them to where he wants them, and after a quick conversation with one of the drivers, he makes his way to my front door.
“This guy is worth whatever you’re paying him,” Jessica says. “And now I have work to get back to.”
She leaves me and I let Axe in.
“Axe,” he says with a shake of my hand. “I’m here until the team arrives.”
“I appreciate it.”
“The RVs are for the guys to sleep in. Is there anywhere in particular you want them parked?”
“Wherever you prefer is good.”
He nods. “I’ll take care of that now and check your perimeters. You’ve got my number, so if you need me before I get back, just text. In the meantime, make a list of places you’re likely to visit so we can check the routes and plan for contingencies.”
With that, he exits the house and I pull out my phone to call Zane.
“Axe arrived?” he answers.
“He did. Thanks for making that happen fast.”
“You’ve got six guys on their way from Sydney. They should be there within the hour. Do me a favour and don’t piss Axe off. I interrupted a holiday he’s had banked for a year. And Jack, next time you decide to visit, give me some prior fucking notice.”
“Will do. Thanks, Zane.”
“Yeah,” he says before disconnecting.
I’ve used his company for years, and after this I’ll use them for life. I’ll also send two of them home with Jessica when she leaves on the weekend. No fucking way am I putting her at risk by not having protection.
My phone rings almost as soon as my call with Zane ends.
Ashton.
“Fucking hell, Jack,” he says, “I just heard what’s happening there. I’m organising security for you.”
“I’ve got it under control. We have a guy here now and more on their way.”
“Fuck,” he says, exhaling a long breath. “Is Jessica okay?”
“Yeah. She was a little shaken, but she wasn’t harmed in any way.”
“Let me know if you need any help with this. I’ll keep these guys on standby.”
“You don’t need to, Ashton. Zane’s got me covered. And I never intend on putting Jessica in that position again.”
He’s silent for a moment and I know he’s warring with his instinct to assume control, especially where Jessica’s concerned. He assumed the responsibility of looking out for her when I broke her heart, so I know it’ll be hard for him to let this go. However, he does, far easier than I thought he would. “Good,” is all he says, but I hear everything he’s not saying. And for the first time in a long fucking time, what I don’t hear is doubt that I can handle my own problems.
“Jack,” Jessica calls out as I slide my phone into my pocket. “Did you call Rose yet?”
I walk back to the dining room and rest my shoulder against the doorjamb. Crossing my arms, I say, “Do you remember that time in London?”
She looks up at me, the expression on her face telling me she knows exactly which time I’m referring to. “How could I ever forget it?”
We were there on a press junket. It was two hellishly long days for me that I didn’t want to do. I’d had a fight with my co-star, and the last thing I was up for was two full days in her company. Jessica had kissed me goodbye each morning, telling me to dig deep, give the performance of my career, and act like things were good with my co-star. So I did. The press ate it up. To celebrate the end of the junket, I took Jessica out for dinner.
My security guy came down with food poisoning before we left for dinner, and while Jessica wanted to stay in because of her security concerns, I ignored those concerns and talked her into going out with me.
The night didn’t end well. We were ambushed by paparazzi and Jessica hurt her wrist in the scuffle that took place between us and two of the photographers. She and I got into an argument that resulted in me sleeping on the couch. Not one of my better performances.
“I never did say sorry for that,” I say. “I made a bad decision, forced you into it, and was a bastard to you afterwards, and for all of that I’m sorry.”
She nods slowly, watching me with an expression I can’t read. Then, her eyes soften, and she says, “You didn’t force me into it, and while you may have been somewhat of a bastard during our argument, it takes two to fight. That night isn’t something you need to apologise for.”
“You’re wrong. There are many things I need to apologise for, that being one of them. I’m learning that my impulsivity doesn’t serve me well.”
“Not true,” she says, surprising the hell out of me. “Your impulsivity can be a curse at times, I agree. And I know it’s important for you to manage it. But you wouldn’t be you without that impulsive streak. It fuels your creativity. It’s one of your greatest gifts. Don’t you ever dare lose it completely.” She looks back down at her laptop and begins typing again.