“Probably for drug money,” Levi said quietly, but there was no concealing the bitterness in his tone. “I can’t say I’m all that surprised.”
Mason nodded in agreement, his lips stretched into a grim line. It was the only emotion he showed to indicate that their mother’s heartless actions actually affected him in any way. “If you don’t already know, our mother—and I use the term very lightly—was a crack whore in every sense of the word.”
Jackson nodded. His aunt had told him as much, not that it made him feel any better. He should have been grateful that he’d been spared a junkie as a mother, yet there was no denying that he resented the fact that he’d never known his real brothers, one of whom was his twin. Instead, he had a sibling who was just as much of an asshole as the man who’d unwillingly raised Jackson and a father figure who’d never wanted him to begin with and made sure Jackson didn’t go a day without making sure he knew he wasn’t wanted.
“What about a birth certificate?” Clay asked, clearly trying to make sense of it all.
“My mother had one forged that I’ve used all my life, but my aunt gave me my original and legal birth certificate when she told me everything a few weeks ago.” Withdrawing the document he’d brought with him, Jackson unfolded the piece of paper and handed it to Mason first. “Here’s the proof that you wanted to see.”
The other man didn’t bother to look ashamed or apologetic. Instead, Mason gave Jackson a cocky smirk before glancing at the birth certificate to verify the information before passing it on to Clay.
“How did your mother get away with an illegal adoption?” Clay asked once he’d gotten the chance to look over the official record of his birth. “Didn’t anyone question the fact that she brought a baby home out of the blue?”
“My aunt said my mother told everyone that I’d been adopted through the system, and nobody questioned her. It was completely believable, so why would they doubt her claim? Soon after, my parents moved to a new city, and my so-called adoption was never brought up again and remained a secret until a couple weeks ago.”
Jackson’s gut churned when he remembered his conversation with his Aunt Becca and how she’d told him that Paul Stone hadn’t known about his wife’s unethical plan to buy a baby on the black market until Leila had brought Jackson home. By then, Paul felt trapped and as though he’d had no choice but to go along with the ruse or have his wife arrested for kidnapping or worse.
“There’s no way of ever knowing how our real mother got away with selling her newborn without being caught or what lies she concocted to cover up her corrupt actions,” Levi said, his voice as hard as his expression. “She’s dead.”
Jackson hadn’t asked the PI for anything more than the information he’d received on his brothers, and even though he’d never met his birth mother, the news of her death, delivered so callously, was a shock to his system. “I’m sorry,” he said automatically.
“We’re not,” Mason replied bluntly. “Did you miss the part where I said our mother was a crack whore? If she wasn’t out getting high, she was fucking some random stranger for drug money while her kids were alone and starving at home or being abused by some prick she’d left to take care of us.” Those criticizing eyes raked over Jackson once again. “Be grateful that you didn’t have a shitty childhood like we did.”
Jackson bit his tongue to keep from snapping back a reply. These men didn’t know him or what he’d lived through. Mason was judging him based on his outer appearance alone, which irritated the hell out of Jackson because the suit he was wearing told them nothing about the man he was or what his own childhood had been like. True, he hadn’t been subjected to a drug-addicted mother or physical abuse, but the mental and emotional torment his father had inflicted had been equally fucked up.
The room grew quiet, uncomfortably so. When none of the brothers asked any other questions, Jackson took that as his cue that they were done.
“I know this is a lot for you guys to digest, while I’ve had time to process everything, so I’m going to go for now.” Nobody stopped him when he stood, so he withdrew a business card from his wallet and set it on Clay’s desk. “Here’s my contact information. Feel free to call me if you have any other questions.” Or if you just want to get to know your long-lost brother better, he thought, but kept the latter part to himself.
Again, no one said a word, and it left him with an empty feeling deep inside, as though he was an outsider looking in, once again, like a stranger who didn’t belong. It was an emotion he hated but was all too familiar with.
He inclined his head to Clay, then the other two men. “It was good to meet all three of you,” he said, then walked out of the office.
The ball was now in their court, and the next move was up to one of them.
* * *
Tara kept one eye on the hallway leading to Clay’s office while filling drink orders for the few customers who’d come into the bar. She was dying to know what was going on behind that closed door. How Clay, Mason, and Levi were reacting to the news of a brother they hadn’t known existed, and she was curious to find out how things were going for Jackson, too.
When it came to the Kincaid brothers, three against one weren’t great odds, especially when they perceived something, or someone, as a threat. And they’d been through enough in their lifetime to justify their wariness, even toward a man who looked identical to Clay and left no doubt in anyone’s mind that they were twins.
Grabbing a bottle of rum, she poured two shots into a tall glass and filled the rest with cola, then added a lime before setting it on the serving pad for Amanda to pick up and deliver to a table. Tara had only met Jackson less than an hour ago and had talked to him for a mere thirty minutes, but she sensed he had good intentions as far as the brothers were concerned. It remained to be seen if those three men would give him any kind of chance or decide that he was someone they could trust. For Jackson’s sake, she hoped the Kincaid brothers came around. She’d sensed that he wanted more than just to let them know about their long-lost brother. It was as if Jackson needed them in his life.
Fifteen short minutes after disappearing into the back room, Jackson returned by himself. Her gaze met his as he headed straight toward where she was standing behind the bar, but she couldn’t get a read on his emotions. He looked like a man who knew all about control, including keeping any adverse reaction to himself.
As he neared, her traitorous body was quick to acknowledge him as a man, as it had when he’d sat at the bar earlier. A gorgeous, sexy, captivating man with a seductive mouth made for sinning and a lean, powerful body defined by the cut of his expensive suit. Even the way he walked was both sensual and assertive—and a very naughty part of her wondered if he was equally demanding in the bedroom with a woman’s pleasure.
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The thought alone had her panties feeling damp.
She shifted on her feet as awareness fluttered in her belly, and her heart even raced a bit faster, too. It seemed like it had been forever since she’d felt this level of temptation, this irrepressible attraction, and that was saying something considering all the men who came into the bar and hit on her on a nightly basis. She’d gone out with a few, but none of them had gotten past a date or two. And none had ever sparked the kind of burning desire she was feeling right now, without being physically touched at all.
Her response to Jackson should have felt weird, considering he was Clay’s twin and she’d once had a tiny crush on her boss before he’d met and married Samantha. But while the two brothers were similar in looks, she already knew that their personalities were vastly different. This man who’d just stopped in front of her with only the counter separating them was dynamic and sophisticated, more worldly and enigmatic compared to Clay’s more casual persona and the simple way he chose to live.
And he was way out of Tara’s league. She considered herself an ordinary, average woman who poured drinks and managed a bar in a low- to middle-class neighborhood. And she carried around way too much baggage of guilt and regrets that sometimes felt like a hundred-pound weight on her conscience. Undoubtedly, Jackson was used to beautiful, exquisite females who were elegant and refined. Women who came from respectable families and didn’t have a past crammed full of shameful secrets. There was nothing about Tara or her life that was remotely close to being cultured in any way, and there never would be.
He cocked his head to the side, his blue eyes flicking across her face before meeting her gaze again. “Warm in here?” he asked.