“Jesus, Clay,” Mason said, scrubbing his fingers through his dark hair, his disbelief still evident. “He looks exactly like you.”
“That’s because I’ve got a goddamn fucking twin,” Clay replied, his raspy voice rising in volume as the reality of the situation finally started to sink in.
“How about we take this somewhere quiet and more private?” the other brother, Levi, suggested in a rational tone.
“That would be great. Thank you.” Relief flooded through Jackson. At least they weren’t kicking him out of the place or refusing to hear what he had to say. Hell, they could still decide that they didn’t want to have anything to do with him, but once they learned the truth about the past, he hoped they could at least form some kind of relationship.
At the moment, though, these three men seemed anything but welcoming. Not that he could blame them for being cautious.
As his brothers turned around and motioned for him to follow, Jackson cast a quick glance at Tara, who’d witnessed the whole exchange. He didn’t miss the worry creasing her brows, and he smiled to put her concern at ease.
“Good luck,” she whispered to him.
Her support warmed him. At least he had one person on his side.
“Thank you.” He mouthed the words back to her. He had a strong feeling, with these three close-knit brothers, he was going to need all the positive reinforcement he could get.
Chapter Two
As soon as the four of them entered a small office in the back area of the bar, Clay closed the door for privacy and waved a hand at one of the two chairs in the room.
“Make yourself comfortable.” Clay’s tone was business-like as he rounded an old, scarred wooden desk and settled himself into a worn leather chair.
Lowering himself to one of the armchairs, Jackson made himself as comfortable as possible considering he felt as though he were facing a firing squad. Levi sat to his right in the other vacant seat, while Mason had brought in a wooden chair from the bar to sit in. He turned it around, straddled the seat, and rested his arms across the top, a frown on his face.
There was nothing fancy about the cramped, windowless room they were
in, not compared to Jackson’s luxurious private office in downtown Chicago, complete with a million-dollar view of Lake Michigan. Everything about these three men spoke of hard-working, blue-collar roots, and he suddenly felt very out of place in his tailored suit, designer tie, and shiny Ferragamo loafers.
Shit. Maybe he should have changed from his work clothes into something more casual before coming to the bar. Too late now, and judging by the way Mason was eyeing him up and down through his narrowed gaze, the other guy had already sized him up and come to his own conclusions about Jackson.
“What proof do you have that you’re our brother?” Mason asked abruptly, confirming that despite Jackson’s identical looks to Clay, this other sibling wasn’t going to make anything easy on him. “And what the fuck do you want with us?”
“Jesus Christ, Mason,” Clay barked out in a sharp, reprimanding tone. “Cool it with the interrogation, will you? You’re looking at irrefutable proof that he’s my twin.”
Mason glared at his brother, then turned that hard stare back to Jackson that was steeped with distrust and suspicion. “I want to know why he’s here and what he wants.”
“I don’t want anything from any of you,” Jackson said, his own voice brusque. “I’m here because I thought maybe you’d like to know that you had another brother.”
Levi sighed, as if they were used to dealing with Mason’s hotheaded behavior. “Look, I know we all have a lot of questions, and I’m sure Jackson will answer them, but how about we have this discussion in a civilized manner?” he said, deliberately directing the words toward his testy sibling.
“Then by all means, Mr. Calm and Rational Cop,” Mason said, sarcasm lacing his voice, “since you’re the expert, why don’t you lead the interview?”
Oh, yeah, definitely a smartass.
Levi smirked and gave a whatever kind of shrug before glancing back at Jackson. “How long have you known about us?” he asked, his question much more logical, and far less confrontational, than his brother’s.
“Not long. It’s only been a couple weeks since I found out I was illegally adopted and where I came from.”
“Illegally adopted?” Clay echoed his words as he sat up straighter in his chair, his dark brows pulled into a confused frown. “How?”
Jackson definitely had everyone’s attention. Three pairs of eyes were trained on him, waiting to hear the details. “My Aunt Becca, on my mother’s side of the family and who I’m very close to, told me about the adoption. My mother passed away from breast cancer when I was ten, and she made my aunt promise to never tell me the truth, but Becca felt I had the right to know about my past.”
He didn’t need to explain why it had taken his aunt so long to tell him the truth or how guilt had eaten away at her until she couldn’t keep it a secret any longer. None of those details mattered right now, and they were personal and private to him, anyway.
He glanced across the desk to Clay, the brother he’d never known, and met his gaze. “Two weeks after I was born, our birth mother sold me to Leila, the woman who raised me as my mom, for three grand.”
Clay’s jaw dropped open. “She fucking sold you?” he asked incredulously. “For three fucking grand? Jesus Christ.”