Chapter Twenty-One

Jackson

I wish that I could say that everything was better after talking with Linc, but unfortunately, that isn’t the case.
He’d said that neither he nor Raleigh had seen anyone or anything that seemed suspicious.
“Look, man,” he says, sounding exasperated. “I told you, we haven’t noticed anything, and we haven’t. Just leave it alone. Crawl back under whatever rock you’ve been hiding under all this time and leave us alone.”
“Linc, wait,” I call, trying to catch him before he hangs up. “I’m sorry. I know that doesn’t make up for everything I’ve missed, but I’d like to try to fix things if you’re willing. Ball’s in your court.” He doesn’t respond, but the lines still connected, so I know he’s still there. “Anyway, I love you, and again, I’m sorry. And if you notice anything or need anything, please, for the sake of your family, reach out.”
His voice finally sounds through the speaker, unfortunately, and it’s a question that I don’t want to answer when he asks, “What aren’t you saying, Jax?”
I know that I probably shouldn’t answer it, actually, there’s no probably about it-it’s an open case-but if it will help them take the threat seriously, I’ll do it.
“We think that there’s a chance that *he* is back,” I say, not having to elaborate on who the *he* is that I’m referring to.
He knows.
It’s confirmed when I hear a growled, “fuck,” on the other end of the line and then, “Why? When? How?”
I sigh, having expected this line of questioning when I opened my mouth and told him, but it’s still not easy shutting him down, “I can’t really go into details, I’m sorry. It’s still an open case. Just please, Linc, I’m begging you, be vigilant and keep your family safe. I’m going to put a car on your house for added protection, but you need to do your part too.”
This time, there’s no hesitation when he says, “We will. Thanks, bro,” and violation or not. I’d do it again if it meant that he took the threat seriously.
“If you’re up for it, I’d like to talk sometime,” I try, wanting desperately to mend the broken relationship between me and my brothers.
“Yeah, maybe,” he doesn’t sound very on board with the idea, but I’m not going to push him.
I’m man enough to admit when I’m in the wrong, and this one is all on me.
He and Raleigh didn’t do anything wrong.
Linc told me what Raleigh needed during a rough time in her life, and like a pussy I ran.
And not just away from them, but from everyone.
All because *I* couldn’t deal.
I fell in love with the girl who wasn’t mine to fall in love with.
And because of my cowardice, I missed the birth of Linc and Raleigh’s twins and Aspen and Bos’s daughter. I missed both Linc and Raleigh, and Bos and Aspen’s weddings.
And I know that those are moments that I will never be able to go back and change or make right.
Morris and the rest of the team make their way outside just as I’m hanging up the call.
“Anything to report?” He asks, coming up to stop next to me.
“Nope,” I shake my head, then continue with, “Said they haven’t noticed anything. I told them to be vigilant but that I would put someone on them just to be safe.”
“Good call. Kids are involved now. It was bad enough last time, and if this is him, he’s evolved, which isn’t good. There’s no telling what he might do next,” he says, voicing my turbulent thoughts before I had a chance to.
“My thoughts, too,” I agree instead, then ask, “We heading somewhere?” Looking around as everyone makes their way to their cars.
“We’re going to check out the factory. You okay to go, or are you too close to this one?” He asks, knowing how it affected our family last time.
“I’m good. If I get too close, I’ll pull myself.”
“Good, keep your head in it and your eyes sharp,” he says with a clap on my shoulder as he goes to take his leave.
“You got it, Boss.”

With Reinforcements surrounding the building, our team splits up. Morris, Nash, and I are going through the back, while Amriel, Creed, Enzo, and Nick are taking the front.
We’re huddled around the back door, all of us in position and ready to force entry when we hear Morris radio the team that’s going through the front, “Don’t go in until I give the signal.”
He then nods to us and does a countdown to three. When he gets to one, he radios the other team to “Go,” and we all take the door by force at the same time.
Nash stands guard as Morris and I both check rooms on each side. I call out, “Room one, clear,” just before I hear Morris call out, “Room two, clear.”
We continue through the lower level of the warehouse much the same way, clearing room after room and calling it out.
It isn’t until we make it to the second level that things change.
“Looks like someone’s been here recently,” I say, pointing to a large pile of takeout containers. We make our way through a few more rooms before finding a mattress on the floor in the corner of one of them.
Nash walks over to the mattress and, crouching down, he picks up the corner of the blanket that’s covering it, giving it a sniff, “These have been laundered recently,” he says, giving us a perplexed look. Then says, “Either this guy is doing his own laundry—”
“Or someone else knows that he’s here.” Morris finishes for him, sounding pissed, and I know exactly why.
How many times has that family been in the precinct pitching a fit about their missing son and how the authorities aren’t doing shit about it?
They’ve even tried taking it to the press.
The problem is that there’s no evidence that their son ever even made it out of the fire, which is what our lawyers told them, even though we have never stopped looking for him.
He just eventually stopped being a high priority.
“Get evidence bags and bag this stuff up. Maybe we’ll get lucky and get a hit,” Morris orders Nash and me, while the others are still searching the rest of the building.
I’ve just finished bagging and labelling the last of the trash, when Morris comes up to me, “Why don’t you take this on to the lab? Make sure it gets there,” he says with a nod. “Nash and I will finish up and catch up with the others and radio if we run into any trouble.”
“Okay,” I murmur, half feeling like I’ve done something wrong and I’m being dismissed, even when I know that’s not the case.
Morris took this case almost as personally as I did, and he knows that I won’t fuck up anything that could lead to catching that bastard.
Or this murderer, if they aren’t one and the same.
I get back to the precinct and then head down to the basement where the lab is located, grateful to not have to drive all over the place and find Tucker elbow deep in a body that was brought in this morning.
Shooting victim, if I remember correctly.
“I got labs,” I tell him, holding up the bags in both hands. “You want them, or do you want me to give them to Hennessey?” I ask, hoping he says to give them to her, seeing as how these are, in my opinion, time sensitive, and he’s just a tad busy at the moment.
“Henney, please,” he instructs, nodding towards the pink-haired girl with tattoos and piercings that's currently sitting at her computer plating, *What the fuck?*
I have to do a double-take to make sure that I’m not seeing things, but nope, this 22-year-old lab tech is playing I shit you not, *Solitaire* instead of working.
“Don’t you have work to do?” I ask, setting the bags down on an empty table and glaring at her.
With a bright smile that accentuates her dimple piercings, she bats her lashes at me and giggles, “Well, I do now, handsome.”
I repeat, *what the fuck?*
Deciding that I’ve had enough of the crazy, I head back upstairs, figuring that I can make use of the time before the rst of the team gets back to work on school work, since I have classes tomorrow and work that’s due but those thoughts go out the window when I get to the main floor, I hear a familiar voice ask, “Is Detective Morris available to speak with?”
“I’m sorry,” Jodi tells her. “He’s out on a call right now. I can leave him a message if you would like.”
“I watch as her shoulders fall at hearing Morris isn’t here and decided to step in, wondering why she’s here to see him instead of me, like I’d asked.”
“Oh, yes—”
“Brooklyn?” I ask, cutting her off midsentence.
She slowly turns around, her eyes wide, looking like she’s been caught doing something wrong as she stares unblinkingly at me.
“Everything okay?” I ask, confused.
“Um, I-I, ” she stammers, looking to Jodi, then back to me. She does this a few more times before uttering, “I’ll just go. I’m sorry.”
And now not only am I confused, I’m concerned.
“Hey,” I call, trying to keep my voice calm as I reach out for her hand and pull her into an empty office just off the lobby.
It’s positioned so that Jodi can still see us and Brooklyn can still see Jodi, hopefully helping to calm both of their nerves.
I give Jodi a nod that I’ll handle it, and then shut the door to give us some privacy. Brooklyn has taken a seat in one of the chairs against the wall, and her nerves are so bad that she has her left hand at her mouth and she’s destroying her nails.
“Hey,” I say again, keeping my voice gentle as I reach out and pull her hand away from her mouth.
I squat down in front of her, so that I don't seem intimidating, and grasp hold of her other hand too, threading both of our hands together, then say, “Talk to me, baby. What’s going on because this obviously has nothing to do with the coffee date that I asked you out on.”
Her eyes widen, then her brows pinch together in confusion as she says, “You didn’t ask me for coffee,” with a shake of her head.
“I did,” I reiterate. “I left a note on the pillow. You didn’t see it?”
“There wasn’t—” she starts, but stops to think. “I don’t remember seeing one, but I was upset,” she says, unable to look at me.
“Baby,” I say, pulling my hand from hers and placing my thumb beneath her chin and lifting until she’s looking at me. Only when our gazes meet, I find tears shimmering in her deep brown eyes. Hating seeing her so on the verge of tears, I ask, “Why were you upset?”
“It’s stupid and it doesn’t matter,” she says as a tear slides down her cheek. She quickly wipes it and looks away.
This time, I move into her line of sight and say, “It’s not stupid. It mattered enough to upset you; it matters to me.” I tell her, hating seeing her cry.
“I woke up and you weren’t there,” she whispers, and it hits me.
“Shit, baby. I’m sorry.”
“It’s my fault. I just showed up, no announcement, nothing, not even thinking about you having to go to work today, and that was selfish of me.” By the time she’s finished, she’s incredibly upset again, and I feel fucking helpless.
“I wasn’t complaining then, and I’m not complaining now. I want you in my apartment, in my bed, in my life, whenever and as often as you’re okay with. I’d fucking move you in if I knew that you wouldn’t take it the wrong way.”
She just stares at me unblinkingly without saying a word, so I go on. “What I’m saying is, *I want you, Brooklyn.* Yes, this baby may be making things happen faster than they would have otherwise, but I’d like to think that they still would have happened.”
Brooklyn gasps a sob, her entire body shaking, and *fuck,* I’m afraid I’ve said too much.
Then, finally, she says through her tears, “You can’t be real.”
Not understanding what she means, I ask, “What do you mean, Baby?”
“No one is that caring or that selfless,” She says as she wipes her tears and looks up at me. “And what happens if something happens and I lose the baby? Would you still want me then? Or what if you get tired of me or find someone else? Then what?”
“Baby,” I pull her into my chest and wrap my arms around her trembling frame. With my mouth against her ear, I murmur, “We can’t know what the future holds, but what I can tell you is with or without a baby, I still want you. I want you mind, body, and soul.” Then, pulling back, I cup her face in my hands and then say, “ I want your fire, your beautiful mind, your passion, and your heart. I want you, Brooklyn, and no one else.”
“You promise?” she asks, finally seeming to calm down.
“I promise,” I respond as I lean down and brush my lips against hers, not wanting to get caught up in her while at work. 
Which reminds me—before I get to ask, Brooklyn wraps her hand around the back of my neck, deepening the kiss.
Feeling myself harden in my pants, I focus on what I wanted to ask her, trying to keep focused and not lose myself in her, like I could so easily do. Instead, I break the kiss, nuzzling her nose with mine momentarily before pulling back and searching her eyes, and brushing the apple of her cheek with the side of my thumb, I ask, “Why were you asking for Morris?”
This time, she hesitates, biting her bottom lip as she looks away.
“It’s okay, whatever it is. You can tell me.”
She looks back up at me, and there is so much fear in her eyes that it nearly breaks me.
“I was going to ask for his help in getting out…” she says, not elaborating.
“Out…” I hedge, thinking that I understand but not wanting to assume.
“Out of the game. Like you did with Chastity.”