Page 18 of Call It What You Want
I gesture to the basement. “Who is that guy?”
Jackson shakes his head and rubs his raw knuckles. “Don’t worry about it.”
My chest tightens, and suddenly I’m furious, all sense of self-preservation fleeing instantly. “Don’t worry about it?” I repeat, incredulous. “I heard him say my name, Jackson. Who is he? What does he know about me?”
“For fuck’s sake. We’re not doing this right now,” he says, trying to grab my arm, but I manage to pull it out of the way before he can get a hold of me.
“Oh, we are absolutely doing this right now,” I say, voice raised. I’m heated, and I won’t be intimidated into compliance. I deserve to know what the fuck is going on.
His expression turns to stone, and this time his grip finds my arm. “We’ll talk about this upstairs.”
With clipped movements, he hauls me upstairs, pulls me into his bedroom, and slams the door shut. Finally, he releases me, and I stagger back. Blood stains my white work shirt where he was holding my arm. The muscle already feels bruised.
He stares at me for long seconds, like he’s trying to decide how he’s going to deal with me. Finally, he asks, “What were you doing in the basement?”
Nope. That’s not where we’re starting this conversation.
I blow right past his question. “Who is that guy?” I ask again. “And why is he in your basement?”
A million more questions bob and weave through my mind, but we can start there…
He walks over to the side of the bed and tosses my phone onto the nightstand. It’s an odd thing to doright now, but I get the sense he’s stalling, trying to figure out what he’s going to say.
When he turns and looks back at me, a tick is pulsing in his jaw. “His name is Sin Savano, and he’s the leader of a rivalsecret society, Shadow and Ash. They’ve been coming after us for months now. Not long ago, they slaughtered a Burning Crown member on our own front lawn, and almost killed Lucas, too.”
Violence. Chaos. Mayhem. Yeah, all that tracks with the Burning Crown.
“Why does he know my name? I have nothing to do with the Burning Crown.”
“He must’ve dug into my past...” I can hear the hesitation in his voice. “But he’s full of shit. He can’t know anything. He’s just trying to get a rise out of me.”
Whatever this is between Sin and the Burning Crown, it’s dangerous. And I don’t want any part of it. The fact that this guy knows my name, knows I’m hiding things, hits way too close to home.
“Just let me go home, Jackson,” I plead. “I won’t say anything to anyone, I swear.”
“I wish I could trust that,” he says simply.
Frustration and anger play a game of tug-of-war in my head. All I want is to go home to my boring job and my simple, uncomplicated life. To the people who love and need me.
I lift my hands in frustration. “Then do what you normally do. Threaten me to stay quiet. Manipulate me. Pretend it’s all for my own good. Whatever. Justlet me go home.”
“No.”
You know what, fuck this. I don’t need him toletme do anything. I lunge for the nightstand, snatch my phone, and bolt into the bathroom, slamming the door shut, then twisting the lock.
Oh, my God.
I can’t believe I just did that.
But I don’t have much time to consider the consequences. In literal seconds, Jackson will be ripping that door apart with hisbare hands. So with a shaky breath, I unlock my phone, pull up the keypad, and type in 9-1-1 quickly.
Right on cue, Jackson’s fist slams against the door, rattling the thick wood. “Ava, open the door.” His voice is calm, but with Jackson, that’s even worse than if he were yelling. Another thunderous hammer of his fist. “Now!”
Before I can chicken out, I jab the green call button. The line rings,and rings, and rings, while Jackson pounds at the door hard enough to shake the frame.
With my heart in my throat, I fumble with the window lock, the phone pressed clumsily to my ear.
Finally, a woman’s voice filters through the receiver. “9-1-1. What’s your emergency?”
