First Surrender (Chance Encounters #3)

Chapter Forty-Three

Jackson

“ Y ou called me, Nat,” she whispers against my forehead. After she came, her body collapsed back onto the bed and I followed suit, draping my upper half over her. My knees are still on the ground but I’m so much taller than her it almost puts us on equal ground, our chests breathing against each other in sync.

“Dammit, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.” I bury my head against her neck, bracing for her to shove me off. Instead, she wraps her arms around me.

“It’s been a while since you’ve used that nickname and I hadn’t realized it until you said it, again.” She laughs, quietly, shaking my body gently. “You don’t see me as a pesky insect as much, anymore?” She teases.

“I only said that to piss you off. But, the day Declan called you Nat, it looked like he slapped you,” I tell her honestly, holding her tighter.

“That’s why you stopped?”

“I never wanted to be on his level.”

“It’s not the same. You’re nothing like him.” Her voice is so quiet that I can’t help but tilt my head back to look at her. She’s wearing a soft smile and the look in her eyes is nothing short of endearing. “I used to like the nickname until he ruined it but it sounds much sweeter when you say it.”

“Do you want me to call you, Nat?”

She nods her head gently. “You care about me like no one else ever has.”

“For the rest of my life, sweetheart,” I promise.

“I believe you,” she admits against my lips, sealing her promise with a kiss instead of words. “You’re the family I always wanted, for me and Dec.”

She isn’t ready to tell me she loves me but I know she does because I feel it in every inch of trust that she gives me, every smile, and every window of vulnerability. To her, family is supposed to mean love and that’s what she’s giving me.

“Should we go back out there to Dec or do you want me to try to make him a new family member, right now?” I ask, kissing her stomach. She laughs and finally shoves me off of her.

“No way. Part of your punishment is going without for a while. You made me wonder where you were for hours, so we’ll start there. You can check back in with me tonight,” she says, motioning to her imaginary watch.

“You’re right, I deserve that.”

“Besides, I think your breeding kink is getting a little out of control.” Her face is serious for only a moment before she cackles, theatrically slapping her knee.

“Call it what you want but I’m obsessed with you and I want little clones of you to fill this house,” I whisper in her ear as we exit the bedroom, making her smile shyly.

My hands rest on the curve of her waist as we walk down the hall but she stops suddenly when we reach the living room and I almost plow over her. “Dec?” She says, seeing that he’s not on the couch.

“Dec!” She shouts and we’re greeted by silence. An eerie silence that raises red flags in my head.

“I’ll check outside, you check his room.” I move past her to the front door, attempting to ignore the rock suddenly sitting in my gut.

He’s not on the porch or in the yard but when I jog down the front walkway, a breath of relief escapes me when I see him in the garage.

“Dec, what are you doing out here?” As soon as I ask the question, I focus in on his frown.

“Someone ran over my bike.” Sure enough, his front wheel is bent at almost a 90-degree angle. Natalie comes bounding around the corner and gasps.

“What the hell?” She rushes over to Dec to examine the bike while ice courses through my veins. Suddenly, the broken bike is the least of my concerns.

“Get in the house,” I demand, grabbing the bike and shoving it far enough out of the way to close the garage door.

“Why?” Dec whines, sad to leave his bike behind.

“Nat, go.” My voice leaves no room for question, as soon as her eyes meet mine she’s shifting into gear and tugging Dec inside.

That bike was perfectly fine an hour ago.

Which means someone was in my driveway and near my house, way too close for comfort.

Whether the bike was run over on purpose or not is what I need to find out, because Dec was a sitting duck and I let my guard down.

I immediately go from a happy-go-lucky family man back into the Sheriff of Rollins County in the blink of an eye.

My security cameras showed a navy conversion van pull into my driveway, idle for a few minutes, and then take a purposeful three-point turn over Dec’s bike. My video quality wasn’t clear enough to get a license plate but I recognized the old van immediately. It’s the same vehicle Declan was driving when I was following him.

I don’t know how he found out where I lived, but my only guess is that his lawyer showed him the paperwork provided to the court with my contact information in it. Worse would be that someone else gave him my address which means they’re not an ally of mine.

Either way, Declan does not belong on my property or near Dec. I’m keeping my family safe, no matter what.

Over the coming days, my hours are spent deep diving into Declan Randolph but he’s M.I.A. and other cases are piling up. The number of fatal overdoses has increased and I can’t help but see a connection. People are dying from a fentanyl pill that is eerily similar to how Dec’s mom died.

If Declan is behind this then there is even more reason that he needs to be locked up. The custody hearing is coming up and I need to know for sure he won’t be able to come near Dec ever again.

“Sheriff,” Roberta greets me as I come in from the scene of the last overdose. “Prosecutor Fulton is waiting in your office.”

I nod and enter my office where Fulton sits at a chair in front of my desk, staring blankly out the window. “Fulton, what can I do for you?

“Sheriff, we have a problem.”

“When don’t we? What is it this time?” I ask reluctantly, sitting behind my desk.

“Vanessa Porter made a complaint. She’s accusing you of conspiring to have her cousin killed. Thomas Jameson.” It’s been almost a month since he was shanked in his prison cell and this is the first that I’ve heard anything.

“You’re aware that accusation is ridiculous,” I state plainly. I don’t have time for bullshit like this when there are real problems to deal with. “I’m being dragged into this because I hurt Mrs. Porter’s feelings and accused her family of criminal activity.”

“Yes, Sheriff. I agree with you but I think you need to watch yourself. The Porters are a powerful family. Once they lock in on you, they won’t make your life easy,” he warns.

“I don’t care who they are unless they can tell me why people keep overdosing when no one seems to know where the drugs are coming from.”

Fulton looks at me for a moment, introspectively, debating what he wants to say next. “I appreciate your dedication to the crime in this county. It’s been a long time since we’ve had someone with your… Ethics.”

“What aren’t you saying, Fulton?”

“I think the Porter family might be exactly who you need to talk to, but tread carefully.” He clears his throat as he stands. “They have a knack for making things disappear.” With that ominous statement, he leaves my office without looking back.

I don’t appreciate word games and context clues, I want answers. The first of them needs to come from the Porters.

I spend the afternoon breaking down their family tree.

Vanessa’s cousin, Thomas, is dead.

Her husband, Chuck Donahue, is dead.

Her two brothers, Anthony and Benjamin, are dead.

Her nephew, Kyle Jameson, is dead, by my firearm.

Her mother and her aunt both died when she was a child.

So who is left?

Her father, Reverend Jefferson Porter, is still the pastor of a Baptist Church in the area but well into his 80s.

She has two sons, one of whom is running for Mayor of Langston. That’s Randall Porter. He has a clean record like she said.

Personal information on the other one is not as openly available, but he does have a past. Jeremiah Porter has a criminal record like many others in his family. Odd that Vanessa never wanted to mention him.

Why is it that her children don’t share their father’s last name? Why carry on their mother’s maiden name?

* * *

“Mrs. Porter, this is not an interrogation and you do not need counsel present, but if you’d like to obtain a lawyer, we’ll have to put off this conversation further. I think you want to have this conversation,” I state plainly. Prosecutor Fulton is sitting to my left and Vanessa is sitting across from me at the table in his office.

Her accusation of my involvement in Thomas’ death already fell through because no one believed that I had anything to do with it. Now I am ready to slap her with a defamation lawsuit just to get her to talk. I don’t usually play dirty but I’m over all of the bullshit.

“I don’t need a lawyer, I’ve done nothing wrong.” She huffs, clacking her fake nails on the wooden tabletop.

“Why did you accuse me of conspiring in Thomas’ death?”

“Because you were asking lots of questions and then suddenly he turned up dead. What else am I supposed to think?”

“That he was a criminal and had enemies. Obviously.”

“Doesn’t matter now. He’s dead and you’re still doing your job. Why am I here?” She asks, impatiently.

“Why is your family tied so deeply with so many crimes in this county?”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Yes, you do. The majority of your family is deceased, Vanessa. Most of them related to the crimes they were involved with. You’ve had to notice that your numbers are dwindling.”

“Are you making a mockery of the people killed in my family, Sheriff? How uncouth.” She upturns her nose at me and looks away. Even I know that a woman like that makes insults when she doesn’t have a real argument.

“How’s your father?” I ask, watching her closely as her head snaps to mine.

“He’s fine. What does he have to do with this?”

“All of his family members are dying, too. He’s not concerned? What about your sons?”

“They are good boys. Leave them out of this.”

“Why do they have your last name? Their father was a Donahue, not a Porter.”

“My family name was much more important than Donnie’s. Mine means something around here and his doesn’t.”

“Right. How much does it mean, exactly?”

“Enough that I don’t need to sit here and listen to this. Leave my family alone. Deal with your problems in this county without my help, Sheriff. Or you’ll be out of a job.” She stands, huffing and puffing out the door.

“Dammit. That still gets me nowhere,” I grumble. Fulton only laughs.

“I figured she would have left even sooner. Do you think she’s involved in illegal activity? She’s a retired southern bell, not a criminal.” He stands and fixes his suit.

“I know but she knows something. She wanted me to back her son for his campaign and after a few attempts to press her on her criminal family, she’s made me enemy number one. If there was nothing to my suspicions, she would have laughed me off a while ago.”

“Well, good luck. Don’t drag me into the pits of hell, though.” He waves as I make my way toward the elevators. The pits of hell. Hmm.

Time to visit the patriarch of the Porter Family.