The Truest Thing - Hart's Boardwalk

Fear flooded him. “Mom? Jamie?”

Kerr grimaced. “Why would Dad hurt Mom or Jamie? He still loves them.”

“He’s got a funny way of showing it.” Jack’s mind raced as he tried to figure out who Ian would go after. If he went after Cooper, Coop could take care of himself … but that wasn’t the point.

“Look at you, scrambling to figure it out.” Kerr snorted. “Let me help you. You thought your feelings for her were a secret, but Dad’s PI caught you with her a few times over the years … and anybody with fucking eyes can see you mooning at her any chance you get. You big pussy.”

Jack’s stomach roiled. No. They couldn’t possibly know about her.

“Tall, legs forever, ass a man would pay a lot of money to ride. Blond hair. Owns a bookstore … ringing any bells?”

He gave his brother no warning.

Jack jumped and used the force of the lunge to bring his fist down across Kerr’s face. Blood sprayed out of his brother’s nose, his head juddering on his neck.

Kerr fell to the ground with a sickening thud.

Knocked out.

Reaching for his cell, hands trembling, Jack dialed Cooper. He was nearer to Emery. It rang four times before his old buddy’s voice filled his ears. “Hello?”

“Cooper, it’s Jack.” He huffed breathlessly as he ran out of the house to his car. “You need to get to Emery now. You’re closer than I am. Ian’s going after her to get back at me.”

“Fuck!” Cooper growled. “On my way.” He hung up.

Jack sped out of his driveway, fear unlike anything he’d ever felt before threatening to cripple him.

20

Emery

After lunch, when the girls returned to work and Ivy followed Dahlia to her store (she’d started helping at the store when Dahlia was in her workshop), I closed the shop early. It wasn’t something I typically did, but my mind was reeling after telling my friends the truth about my relationship with Jack. I’d even told them about last summer.

I could tell Bailey was dying to ask me a million questions, but she’d learned enough about me to know that an interrogation would only cause me to clam up. I told them what I was ready to share, and that was a surprising amount. Bailey, however, hinted at her curiosity about my experience with men.

I think she was trying to ask if I was a virgin.

I avoided those hinted questions because it would mean telling them about Tripp, and I wasn’t sure I ever wanted to talk about him.

While Bailey seemed ecstatic about the idea of “Jack finding his redemption with Emery,” like we were living in a romance novel or something, my other friends were less enthused. Jess and Dahlia were both concerned about my connection to Jack and urged me to continue to be cautious with him. Even Ivy, who wasn’t as close to me, seemed a little perturbed and agreed. Bailey was annoyed with them all, especially when I promised them I was done with Jack Devlin for good.

I said the words—and I wanted to mean them—but they still hurt. It still ached deep inside me to think of never kissing Jack again. Even if it was best for me. I needed to remind myself continually how much it hurt to see him with those other women.

And I worried about him. I worried about his family’s tragic tale being splashed across newspapers, becoming fodder for this town’s gossips, of which there were many. Poor Rebecca. I didn’t know her. However, I didn’t want her to feel alone during all this. Perhaps I should talk to the girls about offering her support.

Or was that too intrusive?

Perhaps Jack’s sister just wished to be left alone.

She might be like Cat, Cooper’s sister. Jessica, apparently, had tried to invite Cat to many of our gatherings but as a single working mom, she was busy and had little free time. Jessica also suspected Cat was kind of a loner and liked it that way.

I sighed as I let myself into my house. This was why I closed shop early. My mind was so unfocused, jumping from one thought to the next.

That’s also why I didn’t sense his presence until I’d already stepped inside and closed the door behind me.

My heart lurched into my throat at the sight of the tall, distinguished, handsome older man standing on the edge of my kitchen, near my dining table.

Ian Devlin.

He had a gun pointed at me.

The first thought that crossed my mind was how I could reach inside the top drawer of the side table to my left. Inside that drawer was my loaded Glock.

My second thought was that Jack had been right all along. Ian was spying on Jack. Otherwise he wouldn’t be here, in my house, threatening me.

In retaliation for what his son had done.

Because that’s what this was.