“In some circumstances, I do know what’s best. Such as how to give escaping from a criminal your very best shot.”
I was so pissed off I couldn’t think straight. I picked up a stick and cracked it in half. It didn’t really help quell my rage.
Jackson didn’t even raise his voice. “There’s no point in getting mad. The first time you were alone, someone tried to rob you. What if someone had something more sinister in mind? Your family is powerful. They have a shitload of money. There are people who’d exploit that.”
I had to concede that he had a point, but I wasn’t ready to admit it. “I don’t think you’re being realistic. No one has ever tried to kidnap me or anyone else in my family.”
“Fine. Don’t listen to me.”
“I thought you were different. I thought you’d listened to me,” I said, desperately trying to keep the whine out of my voice but probably not succeeding.
“Loren. I gave my honest opinion. That doesn’t mean I didn’t listen. If you don’t want a bodyguard, don’t have one. I wouldn’t. No matter what.”
“You wouldn't?” I asked.
“Hell no. Every time I’ve been around a president or a prime minister, I can’t imagine what that would be like. No amount of prestige would be worth losing my privacy like that.”
I deflated. Obviously this was still a touchy subject for me. There was no reason for me to go nuclear just because Jackson expressed his opinion. He was military. He had a different mindset than me, and that was okay.
“Sorry,” I said. “I’m going to have to be calm about this. It won’t be the last time I discuss it, even if it’s not with you.”
“You know how I feel. I understand how you feel. And I won’t bring it up again.” Jackson lifted one eyebrow. “One last piece of advice from someone who’s lived longer than you have -- don’t make decisions based on emotion.”
I mulled that over for a moment. Then Jackson and I found a decent-sized clearing with a grassy spot, and he went through some basic drills with me, such as how to hold my hands if I was getting tied up with rope, and how to escape handcuffs, and zip ties if I ever did get tied up.
He taught me how to be aware of exits, and where to sit in restaurants and movie theaters, and how to watch a crowd to see if it was going to turn into a violent mob. Then he went into topics that might affect me more, such as how to tell if someone was following me, and what to do if so.
By the end, I was more than a little overwhelmed, and I told him so.
“That’s okay. It took me years to hone those skills. I just gave you an overview.”
Then he took me through the actual self defense moves, where we practiced a groin kick, a heel palm strike, and an elbow strike.
“I can tell you have done this before,” he said.
“Yes. Every weekend in college. My father insisted.”
“I don’t blame him.” Jackson took a drink of water and then handed the jug to me. “Do you know how to use a gun?”
Glad for a break, I took a long drink. “I’ve been to a shooting range. I have a concealed carry license, but I’ve never shot anyone.”
He smiled. “That’s good. I hope you never have to.”
I obviously wouldn’t ask him the same question.
“What about hunting?” he asked.
“I’ve never tried it,” I said. “My father has been quail hunting for work, but I never went.”
Jackson started snickering.
“What? What’s so funny?” I asked.
“How do you quail hunt for work when you’re the CEO and founder of a multi-billion corporation?”
“Networking. He meets clients that way.”
“I guess sharing a beer’s not good enough?” He wiped his hand over his face “Sorry. I’m not trying to dog on your dad.”
It was kind of funny when I thought about it. “I’m not offended. I’m not sensitive about most things.” I held up my hand. “Except the bodyguard issue. Obviously.”
“Still. Your dad’s you dad. There’s nothing wrong with quail hunting.”
“They did eat them.” Then I snickered too. “Because they brought people with them to collect the quail, clean them and cook them for the whole group.”
Back at the campground, Jackson showed me all the features of the rifle, and how to load the rifle, and how to carry it.
We drove to a designated hunting area.
“Deer are the easiest,” he said. “I know someone up here who will come get it and freeze the meat to make chili and stew.”
He took me to his favorite spot, and taught me everything he knew about hunting black-tailed deer. We didn’t shoot any, but he showed me how to use the scope for sighting, how to use a deer stand, and the best way to track the deer themselves.
By that afternoon, I was exhausted. “I think being quiet for so long made me tired,” I said. “I am ready for bed.”
It was our last night together out in the wilderness, and I was sad to see it go. Sure he was coming with me to the wedding, and he was willing to be my fake boyfriend, but I’d bet money that when we arrived at the hotel, everything would change. He’d gotten weird and stiff anytime we talked about my family, especially my family members who were in the military. And they’d be at the wedding.
As we zipped the sleeping together, I made sure to get as close to him as I could. He’d stripped his shirt off to sleep, and I loved his bare chest against mine, even though I still had on my t-shirt.
I drifted off, fantasizing about ditching the wedding and going to his grandfather’s cabin instead. I didn’t really want to miss my cousin’s wedding, and my first real gig as a photographer, but the thought of another week of solitude with Jackson really appealed.
I did love weddings. But maybe not the ones where I was related to most of the guests. Jackson’s cabin was on ten acres of wooded property, with a creek and a small pond. I’d never get to see it. And after the wedding, I’d probably never see Jackson again.
The thought was a harsh blow.
I had a full-fledged crush on Jackson, that was clear.
I steered my brain toward happier thoughts. At least I’d gotten the chance to be with him, to spend these long days with him in this paradise. I drifted off, content to just be close to him for one more night before the onslaught of the wedding craziness began.
I awoke to something shaking. Was there a train nearby? A plane overhead? I rubbed my eyes. Ah. I was in a tent in the great outdoors. I sat up and grabbed Jackson’s arm. “Do they have earthquakes in Alaska?”
The moonlight was bright enough that I could see a little bit even inside the tent. He didn’t answer. His body went entirely stiff and he jerked. Then he let out a pained moan, and said, “No, you can’t,” in a low, bleak voice.
Was this a nightmare? He’d said not to grab him while he slept. With that in mind, I scooted away and waited, which sucked, because I wanted to help him. But I had a feeling he wouldn’t thank me for waking him, or for even witnessing this part of himself, he probably would rather keep it hidden.
After several minutes of watching him shake, I couldn't take it anymore. “Jackson?” I asked.