Agent 34 will be updated soon.

I also haven't been updating as much because, ya know, life. I still have turtle tanks to clean, a dress to alter for my Grandma, I've been painting again (since I didn't have time to while my college classes were going on), I have to fix my dog's couch (yes, he has his own couch), and I have a million other things to do since I now have the time. Still been working on writing though, since that's fun to me and I do have time.

I intend to have Catching the Storm finished before my classes start back up, and I hope to at least be at Chapter 20 of Agent 34 before my classes start back up as well. But we'll see how that goes.

Anyway, Enjoy!

Crystal's POV

I don't know how long I stood on the deck, staring into the doorway that Jackson had been standing in.

There were absolutely no words to describe what I was feeling. Seeing Jackson-a man who was usually so collected, so confident, so carefree, so . . . strong and reckless-look so absolutely broken wasn't anything I ever dreamed I'd see.

I was even more curious than I had been before and yet, I didn't feel like seeking him out to ask further questions. I wanted to. I so desperately wanted to but . . . seeing him like that. Seeing the pain on his face as I drug up memories of someone who meant so much to him made me stop in my tracks.

True, he'd already hurt me. Time and time again. So I had every reason to want to get back at him, but something about this seemed different. When I asked that question, I never dreamed of the answer I'd get.

Jackson Storm, the conniving, flirtatious, and charismatic bastard of a conman that he was, had been married. And she wasn't around anymore, that much had been abundantly clear. But what exactly had happened to her?

I had a guess. Actually, I had a few, but I wasn't sure exactly which one was right.

When I finally managed to gather my thoughts, I walked back up to the room, still in shock over what I had just learned. I stepped into the room, only to see that Julie and Damien had left and only Noah was left in the room.

I looked at Noah as he typed away on the computer on his lap, not even bothering to look up at me.

"The name on the hospital records was Jane Johnson," Noah said, his eyes still on the screen. "Not very helpful," He continued. "and in trying to cross-check where else that name is used I discovered what a very common name it is. So no luck there."

I just nodded absentmindedly, not actually paying any attention to a word he was saying. "Did Jackson come back up to the room?"

"No," Noah replied without looking at me, fingers flying across his keyboard. "I was able to find something interesting, but I don't think it's actually very helpful-"

"Does the name Ella mean anything to you?" I interrupted.

Noah froze, his hands hovering over his keyboard before he slowly looked up from the screen to me instead. "What?" He questioned.

"Ella," I repeated. Although I could judge by his reaction that he knew the name.

He looked away from me and scratched at the back of his neck. "Where-where did you-uh, hear that-that name?"

"Jackson," I replied. "You know you stutter when you're afraid and when you know something, right?"

"I don't-I don't . . ." He cleared his throat and shook his head. "I don't know anything. Ella could be . . . any number of people Jackson knows-I mean-not that he actually knows anyone by that name-he watches a lot of movies-why don't you just . . . ask him?"

I stared at him for a long moment. He squirmed in his seat on the couch the entire time.

"I did ask him," I finally said.

Noah's eyes got wide. "Oh . . . oh. Well . . . what did he say?"

I shrugged. "What do you know?"

"Me? Nothing."

"You are a really awful liar," I told him.

He blew out a long breath. "I know," He muttered.

I watched him while he went back to staring at the computer screen, probably wishing I'd just disappear right now.

"He showed me the rings," I said.

Noah froze again only this time it wasn't as long. He let out a sigh and closed the computer on his lap. He looked down at his hands and fiddled with his fingers for a moment before speaking.

"I don't know exactly what he told you," Noah said. "but knowing Jackson I'm sure it wasn't much."

I shrugged. "He showed me the rings when I asked who she was," I replied. "He didn't really say anything, except that she was his world."

Noah nodded, a faraway look in his eyes. "Ella was remarkable," He said quietly before looking up at me. "Jackson adored her. He would have moved heaven and earth for her." He was silent for a while longer. "He would have died for her."

He grew quiet again and looked back down at the closed computer in his lap, running his fingers around the sides of it over and over.

"Jackson was . . . different with her. She meant everything to him so when she died . . ." He trailed off and shook his head. "Something in him snapped. Something broke."

Noah bowed his head even further to the point that I could no longer see his face. He shrugged. "Jackson doesn't really do feelings," He continued. "I mean he flirts, he charms, he seduces . . . but he doesn't actually care. Not like he used to. Not since . . ." He trailed off once more before shaking his head. "I really shouldn't be saying any of this. Forget I said anything."

I looked at Noah closely and noticed that speaking about her, my bringing her up, was hurting him too. Not as much as it had hurt Jackson, but she clearly meant something to him as well.

"You cared about her," I stated.

He didn't move for a moment before slowly nodding his head. "She looked out for me," Noah said, a small smile on his face. "She saved me."

"How did she die?" I asked him.

He shook his head. "I'm not talking about that," Noah said firmly as he shoved the computer into a bag on the floor next to him. "I need to go find Jackson," He said.

"Branson's wife still out there," I reminded him, instead of trying to stop him. I knew it would do no good. "Be careful."

He nodded before stepping out of the room.

I blew out a defeated breath and walked into the bedroom, taking a seat on the edge of the bed. This was not how I expected this day to go. And none of this was something I ever dreamed of being real.

I would have never guessed that Jackson Storm being who he was could be so . . . so . . . human.

***

I woke up the next morning in bed alone for the first time since we got here. The other side of the bed was cold, and still partially made up so it was safe to assume that Jackson had never come back to the room last night. Or at least, not to the bed.

I stared briefly at the pillow next to me before rolling onto my back and staring up at the ceiling.

It shouldn't have bothered me that Jackson was avoiding me, after all, this had been what I had wanted right? But it did. I groaned and pulled the pillow out from beneath my head and buried my face in it, letting out a little scream.

Jackson Storm, despite my best efforts not to give a damn about you, it appears I do.

I threw the pillow off the bed and continued to stare at the ceiling for a long while. I let out another groan and pushed myself into a seated position. I swung my legs off the bed and stood up, walking into the bathroom to shower.

I stepped out of my pajamas and under the hot water, letting it relax my muscles and wash over me. I closed my eyes and stood under the water for a long while, trying to get my thoughts straight. Trying just to get my head on straight, actually.

When I finally finished with my shower and stepped out, I picked up one of the fluffy white towels and dried myself off as much as possible before pulling on one of the robes the hotel had left for our use.

I wiped away the condensation on the mirror and grimaced at my reflection. Not only was I still covered in bruise-as well as a few cuts-but I had dark circles under my eyes showcasing the lack of sleep I'd gotten last night.

"Great," I muttered. "I really do look like shit." I shook my head and stepped out of the bathroom into the bedroom only to see that the bedroom doors were open and Jackson was speaking with Noah in the living room area.

Noah turned to look at me when I stepped out of the bathroom and then immediately looked away when he saw that I was only in a robe. Not that I particularly cared since the robe was long-sleeved and fell to my ankles, so it wasn't as if anything was showing. Plus, as a model, I'd worn things way worse than a robe.

Jackson, however, didn't even bother to turn and look at me.

I didn't walk out to either of them and instead walked over to the dresser, picking out an outfit and then walking back into the bathroom. Jackson's eyes never once left Noah and since normally he wouldn't be able to resist making a comment about me in nothing but a robe, I knew he was still upset.

I took my time getting dressed, half hoping he'd be gone by the time I walked out of the bathroom, but no such luck. When I stepped out into the bedroom, I could still see them talking to each other.

So, I walked out of the bedroom and took a seat in the armchair across from Jackson. I was only half-listening to the conversation between Jackson and Noah. Mostly, I was watching Jackson's moves, reactions, and mannerisms.

And the way in which he was acting now-even the way in which he was speaking-was so . . . uncharacteristic of Jackson Storm.

"Where were you last night?" I interrupted both of them.

Noah went quiet and then immediately pulled out his computer, trying to look busy and not like he was about to be eavesdropping.

"Not here," Jackson replied simply, not even bothering to look at me.

"I figured that out on my own," I responded.

"Congrats."

I narrowed my eyes at him as he went back to talking to Noah, seemingly ignoring my existence.

I blew out a sigh. "Jackson-" I started to say and he held up his hand, cutting me off.

"I'm busy," He said curtly.

I glared at him. "Yeah," I said. "I can see that. Are you going to talk to me about it so I can help?"

"No."

I wanted to hit him. Not that that would accomplish anything. Mostly though, I wanted everything to go back to the way it was. I wanted him to go back to how he was before. Not that I particularly liked that either but it was preferable to this version of him. Mostly, I was wishing I'd never even asked because while I still would have had to deal with this stupidly handsome infuriating conman at least it would have been more tolerable than this.

I watched him as he stood there across the room with my arms crossed over my chest and a thoughtful look on my face. I could try and get more out of him. Bring it all back up again. Or I could just . . . let it go. Let him continue on as if we'd never had that conversation.

Even though Jackson never gave anything away about what he was thinking or what he was feeling, he was doing something that would be considered odd for him right now. He was avoiding eye contact with me. Considering he liked to wink at me, lock eyes with me trying to seduce me or just make me uncomfortable, or just make eye contact when speaking to someone, making it appear as if he were actually listening. Yet the whole time he had been speaking to me, not only had his answers be short and curt-which was also odd since the man couldn't shut up and loved the sound of his own voice-but he'd never once made eye contact with me.

I knew why. I had heard something I wasn't supposed to. Saw something he never showed anyone. His vulnerabilities. I had seen him at a point where he was probably his most vulnerable and he did not like that.

So yes, I could bring her up again and ask more questions like I really wanted to. Or I could just move on, pretend like nothing had happened. Pretend like nothing had changed. True, I did not owe that to him. But in seeing his face when I brought her up, in seeing the pain that those memories so clearly caused him, I decided to pretend.

"So, Conniving Bastard," I said and I noticed he actually glanced at me briefly out of the corner of his eyes. "What exactly is the plan here? And it better not be another empathetic, trust me."

He finally turned to face me, studying me closely through narrowed eyes. He didn't reply and only continued to stare, seemingly wondering if I really wasn't going to bring it up.

I stared back at him expectingly. "Well?" I questioned when he still didn't respond.

His eyes narrowed again and a wary look crossed over his face. He nodded slowly as he continued to watch me. "Yes," He finally said. "I do have a plan." But that was all he said. Nothing more.

I crossed my arms and raised an eyebrow at him. "Am I going to have to beat it out of you or . . ." I trailed off.

Something flashed to life in his eyes and after a moment I was able to realize exactly what it was. His recklessness.

He mimicked me. Crossed his arms over his chest and raised an eyebrow back at me. "What makes you think you could?"

I pushed to my feet and stood across from him, crossing my arms over my chest once again. "You're not much of a threat," I told him.

He smiled slyly at me and took a few steps toward me until we were less than a foot apart. "You really think so, Babe?"

"Don't call me that," I told him.

"Whatever you say," He reached out and tapped my nose. "Babe."

I narrowed my eyes at him like I was irritated, really though, I wasn't. I was actually glad I'd managed to snap him out of whatever trance he'd been in since yesterday.

"The plan?" I questioned once again.

"I'll fill you in once I finish setting it up," He replied. "but I'm thinking we take care of little miss-what did Julie call her-rat first."

"And how do you intend to do that?"

He shrugged, an evil look in his eyes. "How goes the saying? An eye for an eye?" He brushed past me and walked into the bedroom, pulling his phone from his pocket as he did so.

I swear I imagined it, and knowing Jackson I probably did. But for a split second when he brushed past me into the bedroom I could have sworn he whispered, "Thank you."

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