But I can't deny the depression that was threatening me is pushed back a bit, and I feel a lighter. I'm shaken, though... Jackson? And what about my fantasy... is it true? Did I love him? Do I love him?
I get up off my meditation mat and blow out the candle, heading for my food area. I feel good enough to make some dinner, and then maybe I can get back to work on verifying some of Peter's criminal connections. I'm hacking a casino, the same one that I released the security camera footage from. Unfortunately, their security server is different from their financial server, and the security on it is more closely held.
Still, before I sit down at my computer, I think back to my fantasy. Jackson? Really? But...
A knock comes at my door, and I look up. It's familiar, even if I've heard it only once before.
“Kat! Open up, please! It's me!”
I go over and check my peephole, even though I'm already reaching for the lock. He's outside, and in the dim light of my security light, he looks panicked. “Kat... Katrina! Open up!”
I pull the bolt and open the door, Jackson stepping back enough to let the door open enough for him to get inside. As soon as he’s able, he pushes past me and I close the door. “What's this about, Jackson?”
Jackson shifts from side to side, his eyes flicking around the shadowed space of my loft. “Kat, you need to run. Peter's angry, and I don't know if I can keep you safe any longer.”
“Talk.”
Chapter 12
Jackson
Looking at Katrina in the dim light, the first urge I have is to pull her to me, to hold her and protect her. I resist the urge only by pushing past her and reminding myself of the task at hand. I don’t want to be the man whose mind cares about nothing but sex.
“What do you mean, keep me safe?” she asks after her one-word command. She locks the door, and I notice that this time, she didn't have her pistol with her when she answered the door. Why?
“Where's your pistol?” I ask, still looking around. “And is that all you have?”
“It's all I've needed,” Kat says in a relaxed voice, going over to her computer desk and taking the pistol out. “I've been doing maintenance on it today.”
“Yeah well, I hope it's in perfect condition,” I say, wanting to sit down but not knowing where. The loft is nearly black inside, with only the light from Kat's monitor illuminating anything. “Jesus Katrina, can you turn on a light?”
Katrina makes her way past me and hits a switch, illuminating what looks like, of all things, a line of white Christmas lights that stretches around her living area and over her bed. “That's new.”
“I used other lights last time. I picked these up because I can run them off a couple of double A batteries if I want,” she says, sitting down in her desk chair. “I have enough costs with just keeping my computer going. So what did you mean, Jackson? You didn't show up panicked at my door telling me Peter's going to be coming after me just to see my home lights.”
I try to find a place to sit down, finally giving up and pointing to her bed. “May I?”
“Go ahead. But get to talking, Jackson.”
I can barely call this a bed, it's so thin and uncomfortable. I think I might be more comfortable sitting on the floor as I adjust myself. “You know, you don't have to bitch at me about it, Kat. I'm serious when I said I'm here for the right reasons. Peter saw your most recent hit on him. Your friends in the online media need to watch themselves also, but Peter knows that he can't hit at them easily or invisibly. He hits you, though... hell, Kat, you don't even exist. Nathan took a week to find you, and he's one of the best in the city at it. And Peter went through the roof at this one. You touched a nerve that he isn't going to let go of.”
“I don't want him letting go,” Katrina says, her voice intense again. “I want him to latch on so that I can drag him into the light of day with it, then drive a stake through his fucking heart like a vampire.”
“Yeah well, I don't want to see you dead because of it!” I yell back, then settle back on the bed. “For fuck's sake, I know you don't care, but I care if you live through this or not.”
“And yourself?” Katrina asks, but this time, there's a bit of softness in her voice. “And what's with Peter?”
“He threw a tantrum today... Jesus, how I ever thought that man could have been my father. Throwing things, then he tells Nathan to hunt you down and cut your throat in front of me, because I dared to say that your little act may not have been from you. Then afterward, he tells me that if I ever contradict him in public again, he'll have my throat cut. So I went and talked to Nathan.”