Page 32 of Dirty Gambit

Not waiting for him to find his tongue, she hurried to catch Jessie before the kid could get too close to the ladder.

She had her back to him. Her guard was completely down. Jessie was out of harm’s way and the gun was tucked away in her waistband. If he got up behind her, grabbed her, pinning her arms to her sides, he could easily overpower her. Maybe he could even get the gun and … he shook the idea away before it could form.

What if they grappled for the gun and it went off? What if they got distracted fighting and Jessie fell over the edge? Plus, he was too damn tired and cold. Not to mention starving. All he wanted was to warm up, eat something and stretch his legs out. He’d get another chance.

Jessie safe once more, she returned to his side and peered down at the barrel. “I have some matches. I’m not sure we can use any of the wood pieces inside, but we should try. I don’t know if straw will burn, but we can toss some of that in as well.”

“There are wooden boards downstairs,” he recalled. “We could break some of that up.”

Lena nodded enthusiastically. “Let’s do that. Do you want to go grab a few?”

The fact that she would trust him to go alone made him both apprehensive and delighted. It meant she was trusting him, or she didn’t think he would try anything, because Jessie would be up there with her. Either way, she didn’t stop him when he made his way down the ladder.

At the bottom, he peered at his surroundings, not exactly sure what he was searching for, but knowing that, once he saw it, he’d know. There wasn’t much in the way of weapons, but he did eye the tools lining the wall. Nothing was small enough to conceal or worth bothering with. He searched a second longer before considering it a loss. He gathered up two of the boards and made his way gingerly back up.

Lena sat cross-legged on her blanket with Jessie in her lap. She was murmuring quietly to the girl in what sounded to Jaxon like Spanish. He didn’t understand a word of it, but there were a lot of hand gestures that were keeping Jessie entertained. The girl watched Lena with big, fascinated eyes.

A small fire jumped in the barrel, barely high enough to make any sort of difference, but still a start. Jaxon broke one of the boards into three jagged slabs using his weight and strength. The wood splintered beneath the foot he used to snap it in half. He added them to the flames, then moved to join the two.

A peanut butter sandwich was placed on a bit of paper towel on his blanket, next to a bottle of water and a granola bar. There was another sandwich resting next to her hip, forgotten while she fed Jessie what looked like cold pasta. The plastic fork clipped between her fingers waved dramatically with the weaving of her tale. Every so often, she would pause, spear a shell with the prong and bring it to Jessie’s slightly parted lips. Each time, the touch of pasta would startle the girl into opening fully and allowing the morsel to slip in.

Jaxon took a seat on his blanket and watched the pair while nibbling on his sandwich, mind twisting over their situation while trying to decipher the story being told a few feet away.

She was in her element. The natural ease with which she told the story made him think she’d done this before. Maybe she had siblings or had grown up around kids. Whatever the case, she finished with a snarl and the plunge of her clawed fingers into Jessie’s belly.

The girl squealed in surprise and delight. Her pudgy hands closed over Lena’s fingers, attempting and failing to dislodge the wiggling digits.

Lena laughed and stopped. Her arms went around the child and squeezed. Her face nestled the downy strands along the side of Jessie’s head.

Jaxon was struck by the similarities between the two. Jessie’s olive complexion, her dark hair, the contours of her almond eyes were so close to Lena’s that it was hard not to mistake them as related. It only intensified the questions rotating around in his head, questions she’d already refused to answer, but deciding to chance it again anyway.

“The adoption people wouldn’t tell us anything about Jessie’s parentage,” he began, keeping his tone casual, but it pulled Lena’s attention to his face, her dark eyes watching him intently. Jaxon pretended not to notice as he took another bite of his sandwich. “Only that she’d been in a bad situation and needed people who cared for her.”

Lena’s eyes darkened. Her jaw clenched. Anger wasn’t the reaction he’d been expecting, but he was faced with it now.

“She has people who care for her.” Each word was shredded out through clenched teeth. “Those people never know what they’re talking about.”Those peoplewere spat out as if it were shit in her mouth. Venom and disdain oozed from every orifice in a hot wave of loathing he could almost taste in the stale air. “What do they know, except how to tear families apart? They’re thebad situation.”

For a moment, Jaxon wasn’t sure how to proceed. It was clear he was already on thin ice and he really didn’t want to make things worse. Nevertheless, he heard himself asking the one question that had been plaguing him since the beginning.

“Is Jessie yours?” Then, to clarify, he added, “Are you her mother?”

Her lips pursed tight. A muscle moved in her jaw before she dropped her gaze to the child wiggling in her lap. For a moment, Jaxon took that to be his answer, but then she spoke.

“No.” Her gaze lifted back to his. “But I am her family. Herrealfamily.”

He didn’t press the matter, nor did she bother to give him anything else. Instead, she returned to feeding Jessie, her smile alive across her face once more. But there was a tension to it now, a weariness that didn’t escape his notice.

Fed and changed, Jessie was placed down on her bed. Lena stretched out alongside her, back to Jaxon and gently brushed the girl’s hair, stroked her cheek. She hummed quietly, a song he didn’t know, but sounded like a lullaby.

He studied her, oddly fascinated by the blend of colors in her hair, the way the firelight highlighted each one. He’d never seen so many shades of red, black, and dark brown. It made him want to reach across the distance and comb his fingers through the strands. It wouldn’t have been difficult. She was almost an arm’s length away. He could reach her if he just put his hand out. But he didn’t. The moment was too precious to disturb. Plus, judging from the way Jessie’s lashes were fluttering, the girl wasn’t long for sleep and he didn’t want to disturb that. Plus, even if he did subdue her, got the gun, and turned the tables, where the hell would he go in that storm with Jessie in tow? He could handcuff her, he mused. He wasn’t sure where the steel bracelets had gone, but he could restrain her until morning, then figure out what to do after. That would be the smart thing.

With the seeds of determination making root, Jaxon shifted forward. The old boards beneath him groaned with the motion. Something popped and wheezed in the trash barrel. He held his breath and dared another push, hand extending to the back of her soaked shirt. The space between them was a foot now. The back of her top hovered just within reach.

“Please don’t.”

Jaxon froze while his heart gave a simultaneous jump. His gaze shot up to the back of her head. She hadn’t moved, yet the command was clear.

Slowly, careful not to disturb Jessie, Lena shifted and sat up. She faced him then, expression a deeply etched line of disappointment. From beneath the blanket, she retrieved the gun and gripped it firmly in one hand, with the other, she dug the handcuffs from the side pocket of the cooler.

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