Page 86 of Garrison's Creed

Jackson continued. “I’m going to open your door and see what we’re dealing with in here. Stay as still as possible.”

Cash rolled his eyes toward the ceiling.Got it. Jesus Christ. I won’t move.The last thing he wanted was towel boy between his legs.Worst day ever.He had to will his knee to stay in place and away from Jackson’s pie hole. Nothing good would happen from knocking him out again.

Maybe later.

The door opened, and Jackson poked around under his legs. Wasn’t this a little uncomfortable? Dude’s fucking bubble hat kept touching his calf. Half a minute later, the guy stood next to him.

“Don’t—”

Cash smirked. “Move. Got it.”

“The pressure detonator is the problem. The ignition detonator malfunctioned and isn’t an issue,” Jackson grumbled. “I’d rather get you out than try to diffuse it.”

“Meaning?”

“Your truck’s gonna blow.”

“Prick.” Cash swore a line of curses. “You’re doing this on purpose. Aren’t you?” If Jared wasn’t actively ignoring him, he’d offer his willingness to wait for Brock or Rocco.

“It’s a truck.”

“Are you even a man?” Cash asked, annoyed on so many levels.

Jackson looked ready to walk away. He turned, caught sight of Jared, and turned back to Cash. “Look. We do this, and we both go home with less of a headache than we already have.”

“It’s just under my seat?”

“Huh?”

“The pressure plate. It’s only triggered by a shift in my weight?”

“Yes. Look, man. You’re tempting fate for both of us as long as we both sit here and dick around.”

“Grab my rifle and pizza.”

“Excuse me?”

“Get the goddamn rifle and the pizza, and I will do whatever you want.”

Jackson stood silent, eyes narrowing. “Nic owes me. Man, does she owe me.” He walked around, carefully opened the door, grabbed the rifle case, then the pizza. He put the case down, and chucked the pizza into a nearby parking space.Asshole.

At least the gun survived. That gun signified his whole world.

After speaking into a mic, Jackson came back to Cash’s door. Two men got out of the third vehicle, both in their bombproof moon suits.

“Now what?”

Jackson pointed at the men. “Now, they pull your ass out while I hold down the sensor and try to disengage it without hurting your precious vehicle.”

All right. At least the asshole had a plan. Jared took one large step back.Okay, then. The plan must not be one hundred percent foolproof.

One man held what looked like a lead blanket, the other grasped his arm. Jackson knelt by his knee. They gave signals, someone gave a countdown. “Three, two—” and a noise. A beep. A roar. Blast!

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

David drummed his fingers inside the pocket of his Armani tuxedo pants. The impeccable tailoring was only one of the many reasons he looked ready to waltz Nicola into this gala, if she’d ever show up. She was late by at least twenty-five minutes. He waited in his chauffeured Rolls for her to grace him with her unrefined presence.

But he was refined. Refined manners. Refined looks. His high cheek bones and sculpted nose were perfect, all healed from his scuffle with the exception of fading bruises covered by makeup. He had aristocratic bone structure, bless his mother for that, and his father’s conniving skills allowed him to float in and out of this world, dripping in diamonds and silk, without so much as a hiccup.

---