Crystal's POV

Shouts and screams suddenly broke out across the restaurant. I turned away from Jackson to look at what had caught their attention, but Jackson grabbed hold of my chin, keeping me facing him.

"It's not important," He said as he leaned in again. "Trust me."

I pushed a hand against his chest and raised my eyebrows at him. "How can you be so sure?"

"I just am."

I narrowed my eyes at him. "Did you cause this?"

"That depends on your point of view," Jackson said. "but I can guarantee it's not important at the moment."

"What did you do?"

He shrugged. "Think of it as an eye for an eye situation." He glanced over my shoulder at whatever commotion had captured everyone's attention. He looked back at me. "Now where were we?"

I put my hand on his chest and pushed him back. "Storm," I said. "I'm assuming this is all part of that master plan you never want to include me in, but don't you think I should know what's going on right now?"

Jackson threw his head back and let out an exasperated sigh. "I suppose so," He said, though he didn't bother explaining anything.

I raised my eyebrow at him. "An eye for an eye situation?"

Jackson nodded. "I really do hate getting drugged."

My eyes widened slightly as I looked at him. "You didn't," I said.

He shook his head. "No," He agreed. "I didn't." He finally released his hold on me and stepped back. "But if . . . someone paid off a waiter to slip something in the drinks of two particular individuals . . ."

I rubbed at my head, feeling a headache coming on. "Jackson," I started. "the waiter is going to get in so much trouble-"

"Oh, don't worry," Jackson said. "I made it well worth his while."

"Help!" Someone shouted. "Call an ambulance!"

I looked over to see both Branson and his "wife" on the floor next to their table with staff and onlookers surrounding them.

Jackson adjusted his jacket and started to walk over.

I grabbed hold of his arm, stopping him. "What exactly is your plan from here?"

"Noah's waiting around the corner with an ambulance," Jackson informed me. "As for the rest of the plan," He leaned in close to me. "just follow my lead."

"And how could that possibly go wrong?" I muttered under my breath as he walked toward the crowd.

"The ambulance is on its way," Jackson said as he held his phone in hand. "Is there anything else we can do to help?"

His voice was dripping with concern and his face was full of worry. If I'd been any of the staff members, I'd have believed that he truly just wanted to help. Also, I wouldn't think he had anything to do with it. However, since I knew full well this was entirely his fault, I couldn't help but shake my head and grimace as I watched his charade.

Nothing, however, could have prepared me for the next words to come out of his mouth.

"My wife is a doctor."

He was looking at me. Pointing at me too. And yet, I turned and looked around hoping desperately that he was referring to anyone else in this little scheme of his.

I stared at him incredulously. "Oh no," I said to him as he grabbed my arm and pulled me over. "Storm, you better not."

"Just follow my lead."

"Jackson," I hissed as he shoved me toward them with a wide smile.

I shot him a glare over my shoulder as everyone looked at me expectantly. He smiled widely back at me, hands shoved in his pockets, and winked at me.

I was going to kill him.

I knelt down on the ground next to Branson, not sure what in the hell I was supposed to, and just stared at him for a second. I nearly jumped out of my skin when Jackson spoke up from right behind me. Evidently, he had crouched down as well to look over my shoulder. Really though, I figured he was just admiring his handy work.

"I think you should start by checking their pulse," He whispered, his lips right next to my ear, his chin practically resting on my shoulder.

"I'm going to kill you," I muttered as I reached out and placed my fingers against Branson's neck like I was actually checking his pulse. "Why on earth couldn't you pretend to be the doctor?"

"This is so much more fun."

"How?"

"Don't worry," Jackson said as he looked down at his phone. "Noah's pulling up with the ambulance now." He pulled something out of his pocket. "Also," He said as he discreetly injected a syringe into Branson's wife.

"Why?" I questioned him. "She's already out."

"And now she'll die if she doesn't get to a hospital."

I turned to look at him in surprise.

Jackson shrugged as he got his feet. "Someone's bound to have actually called a real ambulance. So this will just buy us more time with Branson before she comes around looking. Besides," He tucked his hands in his pockets and stared down at her. "I don't take kindly when people try and take what's mine."

I raised an eyebrow at him. "Yours?" I questioned, but I didn't get an answer from him. He just stood there silently staring down at her, his expression blank.

After a lot of confusion-and my cussing out Jackson-Branson and his wife were carried out to the front of the restaurant just as Noah pulled the ambulance up. However, nearly everyone seemed to completely forget about both of the . . . sleeping people when they noticed the fire in the valet parking lot.

The fire, that was consuming the car Jackson had drove us here in.

I turned to look at him. "Distraction?" I questioned.

Jackson looked at the car and shook his head. "A damn shame," He said. "I really liked that car." He turned to me. "No. I had nothing to do with this."

"Then what the hell happened?"

"I've told you before, my cars have a tendency to become . . . inoperable."

"You told me they had a tendency to disappear," I reminded him.

He nodded. "That too."

I threw my hands up in the air. "Unbelievable. How are we getting back then?"

Jackson shrugged, shoved his hands in his pockets. "We'll get a ride from Noah."

"In the ambulance?"

Jackson turned to face me, that look on his face. "It's very spacious in the back." He reached a hand out and tugged me toward him, his hand fisted in the material of my dress.

I rolled my eyes and let him, reaching my hand into the inner pocket of his suit jacket. I pulled out his phone. "I'm calling Julie," I told him as I unlocked his phone and began dialing her number. "She and Damien can give us a ride."

Jackson shrugged and then narrowed his eyes at me. "How'd you get my password?"

I smiled at him sweetly. "Noah."

Jackson scrunched up his nose in annoyance and I was shocked by just how . . . personal that seemed.

"I knew I should have changed it again."

I let out a snort. "You literally drag a very good hacker with way too much time on his hands around with you wherever you go, and you think he won't get the next password?"

Jackson shrugged. "He actually doesn't hack my phone for the password," He said with a shrug. "We have a little . . . game going. He guesses it. Without hacking."

I stared at him, once again surprised with him. I hadn't expected him to actually share anything about well . . . anything. I must have stared at him for a beat too long because there was a look that crossed over his face. A familiar guarded look that I was slowly seeing more and more.

But before I could call him on it, he was back to smiling recklessly, eyes shining with devilish intent. He plucked the phone from my hands before I could actually call Julie.

"Getting a ride from Julie again is not on my bucket list. Even I have a speed limit."

I rolled my eyes. "She's not that bad."

"No?" He questioned. "Ever wonder why I never left the keys to the yacht anywhere near her?"

I couldn't stop the amused smile from spreading across my face. "She doesn't need the keys."

Jackson blew out a breath. "Oh yes, I'm well aware of that considering she most certainly did not have the keys to that motorboat we borrowed."

I just shook my head as I watched him slip his phone back into his jacket pocket. I nodded my head at the movement. "What does he get?"

Jackson frowned down at me. "What?"

"Noah," I said as I tapped the phone through his jacket. "What does he get if he guesses your password correctly?"

Jackson studied me for a moment like he was debating whether or not to answer me. In the end, he did give me an answer. He shrugged. "It varies depending on the time of year."

I raised my eyebrow at him. "Depending on the time of year?" I repeated.

Jackson nodded. "Last year it was summer, and he wanted to go to Comic-Con." He shrugged. "That was easy enough to manage."

I shook my head before turning to look at Branson and his wife on the floor. "What exactly is your plan from here?"

Jackson tugged me closer to him. "Let's not worry about that."

"One of us has to."

"I've got it covered."

"I'm pretty sure that's the last thing on your mind."

"Are you sure you're not the mind reader?"'

"You can't actually read minds," I told him. "I hope you know that."

He shrugged. "Maybe not, but I can read people which is basically the same thing."

"Debatable."

"Are either one of you actually going to help me?" A voice interrupted.

Jackson peered around me and I tried to turn but Jackson held me where I was, so I settled for looking over my shoulder at Noah, who could barely lift one of Branson's legs.

Jackson let out a long sigh. "I suppose so," He said as he moved toward Noah.

Jackson had told the staff that he'd called for a second ambulance, but of course, that was a lie. However, Jackson's hunch about someone else calling a real ambulance was correct, as another pulled up just as we were pulling the doors shut.

I looked down at Branson strapped to the gurney between Jackson and me. "What the hell is your plan now?" I asked.

"Well for starters," Jackson said as he turned to Noah. "Let's get going."

I groaned and rubbed at my head. "This is such a bad idea. Where on earth are we even taking him?"

"Well, the original plan had been to get him back on the yacht . . . I suppose with some cinder blocks, that is still possible."

I narrowed my eyes at Jackson as he stared down at Branson, his expression hard. His entire body was tense and his hands were clenched into fists. It was as if all trace of the flirtatious conman were gone, and someone else was left in his place. And I wasn't exactly liking what I was seeing. There was a deadly kind of calm about him.

"What exactly do you intend to do with him?" I questioned.

Jackson's gaze remained on Branson, he didn't even acknowledge that I'd spoken. Finally, he turned back to me, and the look in his eyes was lethal. If looks could kill, Branson would have ceased to exist.

"Don't worry about it," He said simply as he leaned back in his seat, arms crossed over his chest. "You held up your end of the . . . bargain-"

"Blackmail. The term you're looking for is blackmail."

"-so this no longer concerns you. I'll take it from here."

"That's a scary thought."

"How so? I've been handling things quite well."

"How many times have I been in danger since I met you?"

Jackson waved me off. "I've saved your life. You would think that would earn me some points."

"Points for what exactly?"

He waggled his eyebrows at me and shot me a flirtatious smile. And for a moment, I could pretend I hadn't seen the person he'd briefly become.

I shot him a flat look. "Really?" I questioned as I gestured to the ambulance we were currently in and then to Branson.

"What's the problem?"

I shook my head. "Do you ever think of anything else?"

"Would you like an honest answer?"

I grimaced and shook my head. "No." I looked back down at Branson. "You still haven't told me what you intend to do with him."

"Let's just say I have some . . . unfinished business to attend to."

"You're not going to enlighten me, are you?"

"Not at all."

I shook my head again. "I don't know how I've put up with you this long."

"You haven't had your gun, that's why."

"True."

"However," Jackson said he shifted in his seat and pulled a bag from the seat next to Noah. He tossed it to me. "I believe it is time to rectify that."

I looked down at the small white bag on my lap before slowly opening it up and seeing my gun-as well as Damien's-in it. I looked up and him and shot him a flat look. "You took them off the yacht? You've had them this whole time?"

Jackson smiled and leaned back in his seat. "Babe, they were never on the yacht."

"I'm not even going to ask what that means."

"Probably for the best." He smiled at me, amused.

I couldn't help but smile back. "I think you're growing on me, Conniving Bastard," I told him.

Something in his expression changed and for a moment he looked guarded once again. But it was only for a moment. Then the look was gone and replaced by his cocky smile.

"I could say the same to you, Manipulative Bitch."

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