The Power (13 page)

“I remember.” Jack breathed out as he met her gaze. Lillian could feel the heat within him, the unmistakable attraction, the heated desire that was building inside of the man, and she almost stopped. She almost walked away right then and there, but something compelled her to go on.

He could barely breathe, Jack thought as his rampaging heart caught in his throat. No other woman had affected him so much! How was Lillian Saint Rose so different? He was mesmerized by those beautiful blue eyes, her pale, alabaster skin, her full, fleshy lips. He wanted her. There was no denying that, but it was more, something that he didn’t quite understand, but it had taken him over all the same. Lost in her eyes, he listened to her every word.

“A very long time ago, my great, great, great grandmother was on a ship leaving
England, bound for America. She was very young, eighteen years of age. She was also very fanciful and impressionable, as most young girls of that age are. On board, she met a handsome gentleman. He was older, wiser, and he basically promised her the moon.”

“What does this have to do with-”
Jack tried interrupting, but Lillian pressed two delicate fingers to his lips.

“Shh. You must listen to understand.” she warned with a sweet smile. It was all Jack could do not to grab her to him, and devour her when her fingers touched his lips, but somehow, he refrained.

“So, did this man deliver the moon?” he mumbled against her cool, soft fingers.

“No. He did not. This man wasn’t a good man, Jack, but in the beginning my great, great, great, grandmother thought that he was. She was in awe of him, would have given him the moon herself if she but only could have. Then one night, she witnessed her would be love in an act of sheer cruelty. She was devastated. She suddenly wanted to be as far away from him as she could
possibly get, but onboard ship that was nearly impossible. It was also too late. The man had become obsessed with her. He refused to let her go.” Lillian spoke so seriously, but her familiarity with the story drew Jack into it.

“Couldn’t she have spoken to the authorities?” Jack inquired.

“No one could help her, not even her dear friend, who had tried to warn her of this man’s evil to begin with.” Lillian spoke hauntingly.

“What happened?” 

“As I said, she detested this man, and she was ashamed that she had allowed him to fool her, but now she could not escape him. The man had friends on board, friends just as cruel as he. He knew that there was nowhere my great, great, great grandmother could go, so he allowed her to roam about some nights on deck alone. During this time, she met another young gentleman, a man who could see that she was not happy, who longed to make her so.”

“You know this sto
ry very well.” Jack pointed out with a crooked smile.

“It’s been in my family for generations.” Lillian whispered, ducking her head away from him.

“This other man? Did he marry your grandmother? Did they live happily-ever-after?” Jack teased.

“No.” Lillian replied sadly. “He and my great, great, great grandmother became fast friends. They would meet on deck when she could escape the cruel man, if even for a moment.”

Jack lifted Lillian’s chin to make her look at him. Her eyes looked very sad, haunted even. “Soon, they realized that what they were feeling for each other was much more than friendship, but my great, great, great grandmother had a secret, a secret that she was very afraid to tell Jackson, in fear he would leave her.”

“
Jackson?” Jack asked in recognition. “That’s who you thought I was that night when we first met.”

“Perhaps I’m as fanciful as my grandmother was.” Lillian tried to smile, but couldn’t quite manage it. Jack rubbed her arms tenderly as he stepped in closer.

“So, did she tell Jackson this secret?” he asked.

“Yes. Somehow, she found the courage to do so.” Lillian whispered.

“And he accepted her anyway?” Jack inquired, getting back into the story.

Lillian nodded.

“Yes. They tried to make plans to escape her captor, but then suddenly he was there. He saw Jackson there with her, and became enraged. Jackson tried to save her. He…He died that night.” Lillian lowered her head as if in shame. What was this about, Jack wondered. He tucked her chin, and beseeched her eyes.

“That must have broken your grandmother’s heart. Did she ever escape the other man?” He spoke gently, feeling that Lillian needed comforting just then.

“Yes. When the ship docked, she and her female friend found a way to disembark before the man could. They never heard from him again, but she never, ever forgot Jackson, and she never forgave herself for his death.” Lillian replied lowly.

“Lilly? Why are telling me all of this?” Jack touched her cheek, so cool to the touch and so velvety soft.

“Because Jack, you look just like him.” Lillian whispered, and that said, she moved aside to reveal a portrait painting that could have been Jack’s brother. Not Garret. No, Garret didn’t even resemble Jack this closely. It was amazing! Astonished, Jack stepped in for a closer look. The hair was lighter and longer. The skin was a bit paler too. The nose was slightly off center, but the eyes, the eyes, his unusual shade of amber were dead on. It was like looking into his own eyes in a mirror, Jack thought, astounded.

“Wow.” Jack breathed out, and he looked back to where Lilly had been standing, but she was no longer there. Turning, he saw her standing in the doorway.

“I’ve taken enough of your time, Jack Stone.” she told him, and her hand lingered on the light switch.

“Right.” Jack replied, and he met her at the door.

Lillian switched off the light, and started down the dark hallway. When Jack stubbed his toe on a table he cursed. “How do you find your way?” he called after Lillian who was now out of his sight.

“The moonlight.” she replied, her voice c
oming to him as she reached out and took his hand. Jack sucked in his breath at the sudden contact as a wave of desire swept through him.

“I’ve walked these halls many times.” she said, and she led him back outside into the moonlight that she spoke of. Jack was still reeling from his likeness in the portrait from what had to have been more than a hundred years ago.

“So you thought you recognized me from a portrait?” he asked of Lillian’s slender back.

“At first, I wasn’t sure how I knew you, just that I did.” she explained. “That portrait hung in my home for many years.”

“And your grandmother kept a journal?” Jack asked to get it right.

“What?” Lillian turned to look at him.

“A journal?” Jack repeated. “That’s how your family, how you know the story of Jackson and your great, great, great, grandmother so well?” Jack came down the stone steps at the front of the massive building to stand directly before Lillian.

“Yes. She did keep a journal, but it was lost many years ago.” She sounded sad over that fact, Jack mused. And why wouldn’t she be? A family journal from a hundred or so years ago! How amazing!

“Now that you know I couldn’t possibly be this Jackson from a hundred years ago what are your plans for me?” Jack tipped his head, and smiled.

Lillian smiled then. “Perhaps you are
Jackson, reincarnated, and perhaps, just perhaps, I am my great, great, great grandmother.” Lillian tipped her head to mock Jack. Jack laughed out loud.

“This isn’t the movies, Honey. Things like that don’t happen in real life.” Jack assured her. Lillian smiled, and ducked her head, but Jack couldn’t help but to think he had upset her somehow with his remarks.

“I’ll let you get back to your work, Jack Stone.” Lillian bowed regally before him, making Jack grin.

“It’s late. I can work in the morning.” he assured her.

“Ah, but don’t the bad guys work at night?” She was teasing with him.

“Yes. Some do, but unfortunately, I don’t have a magic wand to wave and point the way to find them.” Jack smiled. He held his hand out for Lillian. “I’ll take you home.” he offered.

“If you take me home, you’ll never wish to see me again.” Lillian warned.

“I can’t imagine that.” Jack said honestly, and he tossed her a wink.

“My home is…” she paused.

“Is?” Jack pressed, motioning for her to go on as he helped her into the passenger’s seat of his car, closed the door, and ran around to his side, climbing in.

“It’s big.” Lilly took up where they had left off, and Jack grinned.

“Now, how did I know that?” He teased as he helped her into the cab, and climbed in beside her.

Thirty minutes later, after Jack had let Lillian out at the huge cast iron gates in front of her massive home, he wondered yet again what he was getting himself into!

Chapter nine

Jack awoke to the familiar ring of his cell phone at a little past seven the following morning. Rubbing his hands over his face to wake himself up, he snatched the phone from the bedside table and answered it with a disgruntled, “Yeah?”

“It’s Bordello. Wake up, Stone. We got a lead. Seems someone saw our kid Bobby leave last Saturday night with a younger kid, a Tyrone Watson. Word is they were on their way to rough
some kid up. Two guesses on who?” Tony scoffed.

“Ernie Sanchez.” Jack filled in. “We know where to find Watson?”

“That we do. Pick you up in ten?”

“Yea. Good work, Bordello.” Jack rolled out of bed.

“Like I told you before, this isn’t my first rodeo.” Tony chuckled, and then he disconnected the call. Jack skipped the coffee, and took a fast, ice-cold shower instead. He could always grab coffee on the way, he reasoned.

“Tyrone Watson.” He said the name out loud. He hadn’t heard it before. Silently, Jack wondered if the
kid had been in trouble before. He would find out soon enough, he thought, as he headed down to meet Bordello.

Twenty minutes later, Jack and Bordello had Tyrone Watson and his mother, a heavy-set black woman, seated in the living room of the Watson home.

“My baby’s never been in trouble before.” Mrs. Watson growled angrily. “He gets good grades in school, stays away from drugs and bad kids. I’m proud of my son! Yes, I am! Tyrone is a good boy, a real good boy!” The mother was in defense mode, Jack thought. He had seen it many times before. What mother could believe their own baby was a drug dealer, a rapist, or a murderer? Mrs. Watson’s voice rose several octaves during her tirade in her son’s defense. It’s too early in the morning for this, Jack thought and he tried to ignore the urge to cover his ears against the woman’s loud ramblings.

“I understand your concerns, Mrs. Watson, but we’re just here to question Tyrone.” Jack explained as gently as possible.

“Question? Why? Don’t we have rights here? Shouldn’t a lawyer be present?” Mrs. Watson was still going off, and it was giving Jack a headache.

“As of this moment, Tyrone is not under arrest, or suspected of anything other than perhaps being a witness on a case we’ve been working.” Detective Bordello tried to explain to the frantic woman. “If you feel you need a lawyer at this present time, then sure, we can give you time to obtain one, or if you can’t afford a lawyer we can have one appointed to you, but Mrs. Watson, every second we waste, a murderer is getting further and further away from us. Your boy, Tyrone, he saw something Saturday night, something that could help bring a psychopath to justice. Now, I implore you, please let him help us.” Bordello’s speech was heartfelt and delivered with such strength and conviction that all eyes turned to the man, even Tyrone Watson looked up. There were tears in the boy’s big, brown eyes.

“I didn’t mean it. I tried to stop him, but he wouldn’t stop. He was stronger than me, and I couldn’t make him stop.” Tyrone cried out desperately. Jack’s heart jumped excitedly at the boy‘s sudden, almost-confession. They had him now!

“Tyrone?” Mrs. Watson called in concern. “Baby?”

“Who was stronger, Tyrone?” Jack asked urgently, and he crouched down to the
boy’s level, placed a comforting hand on the boy’s knee, and stared Tyrone Watson straight in the eye.

“Bobby…
Bobby Williams.” Tyrone ducked his head in shame.

“Bobby Williams!” his mother shrieked in alarm. “The boy that was killed the other night?”

Tyrone sobbed noisily, but he nodded his head. “It’s been eating me up inside, Mama.” Tyrone cried out. “I should have never been with Bobby or anyone like him, but you can’t run forever, Mama. You’re in rather you want to be in or not! They jump you in, and then there’s no way out.” Tyrone spoke hauntingly. Jack felt for the kid. The wrong neighborhood was sometimes all it took. Even good kids could end up doing the wrong thing. Mrs. Watson started wheezing, and sobbing hysterically. Detective Bordello had to lead the distraught woman to a chair, and help her to sit down. It was a long, drawn out moment of tears and pain before they were able to go on.