All I find is a pale, tear-streaked face punctuated by huge, miserable eyes.
Relief and fury simultaneously flood my veins. I haul her out of the car by her wrists and slam the door.
I don't smell fear on her, but she's docile, like she knows she deserves my wrath. Obviously she's delivered herself to me, which makes no sense logically, but the wolf in me approves.
"Kitten, you have to be crazy showing up here tonight."
A single tear tracks down her face. She bites her lip and nods. "Yeah. I'm crazy."
"You have thirty seconds to explain yourself." I don't expect her to have an explanation-I can't fathom anything that would possibly excuse her behavior, but I need to hear what she has to say.
"When I got home last night, my grandmother was gone. They'd taken her." More tears well up in her beautiful eyes, and the scent of them does something to my wolf. Every cell in my body screams at me to protect her, to fix whatever has made her cry. "They called, and a computer-generated voice said I should have done what they instructed me to do." Two more tears track down her cheeks.
I'm ready to tear these fuckers apart with my teeth. I wouldn't even need to shift to do it.
"Mémé is all I have. Stupid me. I thought they'd give her back if I installed the code. But, I'm sure she's dead. I've been perfectly set up to take the fall for ruining SeCure. I'm sorry, Jackson. I screwed you, but I'll do anything to help you fix it. I know you have no reason to believe me. I know you have even less to trust me. But I'm here. I'm offering myself up to you." She holds her wrists out like I have handcuffs. "Call the cops, if you want. But you know I'm more useful to you outside of jail. And I sure as hell want to make them pay for what they've done to-" Her face crumples, and I'm helpless to do anything but pull her against my chest.
The rightness of her body against mine soothes the wolf.
"She may not be dead."
Kylie bunches my button-down shirt in her fists as her tears wet it. "Why would they keep her?" she chokes.
The scent of her anguish fucking slays me. She's right. Her grandmother probably is dead.
"Get in the car," I say, more gruffly than I mean to. I throw open the door. "You're my prisoner until we figure this out. You won't leave the mansion. You won't do anything but eat, sleep, and trace this fucking code to shut it down. Got it?"
She nods and slides into the passenger seat. "Yes, sir," she whispers. She sounds so forlorn and lost, but my wolf still takes her deference as a win.
Mine.
She came back to me. Mine to handle. Mine to punish.
Mine.
~.~
Kylie
Jackson doesn't speak as he drives to his mansion. I can't believe he didn't wrap a fist around my neck and squeeze. Or call the cops.
He's angry, still. I sense his fury, simmering underneath the tightly-leashed control. But it didn't stop him from wrapping me up in his arms and letting me cry on his shirt.
I was right to stay in town. It's the first right decision I've made in a long time.
I've never trusted anyone but family before, but something about Jackson King keeps me coming back, checking my insecurities at the door, and offering myself up on a silver platter. It's crazy.
Because he truly holds my life in his hands now. It would have been so easy for him to turn me over to the police. They could make an ironclad case against me. And maybe he still will, after I help him quarantine the infected data.
But, somehow, I don't think so. Jackson feels like safety to me. Like home. The opposite of the utter loneliness I experienced walking down Congress Street contemplating my future.
"Thanks," I say hoarsely.
He turns his serious gaze on me. "I'm glad you came back."
"Do you believe me?"
"Against my better judgment, yes. I do."
I settle back against the seat, exhausted, but relieved. "I'll do anything to help. I won't rest until I've fixed it. Okay? I promise."
He reaches over and brushes my cheek. "I will help you, too, kitten. I'll hire a private investigator tomorrow to look into your grandmother's disappearance."
It's a sweet gesture, but I doubt a PI will be able to find anything a hacker couldn't. Still, tears of gratitude leak from the corners of my eyes.
Jackson's nostrils flare, and his glance shifts from the road to my face. He rubs away one of the tears with a knuckle. "Tell me about your grandmother. She lives in Tucson?"
I draw in a steadying breath. "We moved here together. We live together. I've been living with her since-" I stop because I've already told him too much about myself. I don't want him to piece it all together.
"Since when?" he asks sharply, like he already knows.
"Since my parents died. She's all the family I have. Had," I modify, my stomach lurching.
"Is she dead, kitten? Do you know it in your gut? Reach beyond the fear. Yes or no?"
No.
Relief slips around me like a blanket. "I don't think so," I croak. I'm fascinated by Jackson's reliance on gut instinct over logic. A man with a brain like his? If he trusts it, so do I.
Jackson gives a single nod. "Then we need to crack this code and find her."
I square my shoulders, the mantle of purpose returning. My brain launches into dissecting what I've seen of the malware. I pull out my computer. "Mind if I work in the car?"
"I'd be pissed if you didn't."