I Knew You Were Trouble: A Jessie Jefferson Novel (16 page)

Hot tears sting my eyes as I wait for Sam to come and release me. I try to shove past him, but he’s a brick wall and I end up stumbling. His big hands steady me, but I shrug him off and go
to unlock the door.

‘Jessie,’ he says.

I ignore him. Why isn’t the door opening?

‘Jessie,’ he says again, more firmly.

Finally I look at him to see that he’s holding a set of keys.

‘We had to change the locks.’

Of course they bloody did. Mum gave out spare keys to friends and neighbours. Johnny wouldn’t have trusted anyone with them.

Sam opens the door and then moves aside to let me pass. I shut the door in his face, not caring that I’m acting like a petulant child.

The familiar smell engulfs me, filling me up from the inside out. I walk slowly down the corridor to the kitchen and look around, picturing my mum standing at the toaster, buttering my toast. My
eyes prick with tears and I back out of the room and head up the stairs, my body feeling heavier with every step. In my bedroom, my little bed looks so inviting, so comforting. I know that
I’m tired, I know that a decent sleep would probably do me the world of good, but I can’t leave Sam on the bloody doorstep.

I wish Tom were here.

I glance at the window as a thought occurs to me. A thought that is distinctly Jessie Pickerill.

Sturdy new locks have been fixed to the window from the inside, but, as I’d hoped, I can open them. I lift up the window and breathe in the autumn air. Then, without so much as a second
thought, I climb out.

‘Stop looking so worried.’

‘It’s just… I don’t know, Jessie, you’ve got a bodyguard for a reason.’

I scowl out of the window at the scenery flashing past. ‘Yeah, and it’s ridiculous,’ I mutter under my breath.

I had to persuade Tom even to drive me home. He was in the middle of a football game at the park just down the road and his face lit up when he saw me, abandoning his teammates
to run over and sweep me up in his arms. He was all hot and sweaty, but I couldn’t get enough of him. It was a few minutes before I remembered to ask him about his conversation with Isla last
night and, when I did, I couldn’t help but sound accusatory.

‘I only talked to her for a bit,’ he replied defensively.

‘Was she calling me a slag again?’ I demanded to know.

‘No,’ he said firmly. ‘In fact, she apologised for that.’

‘Did she?’ I was astounded. ‘How did that come about?’

‘She asked after you. Obviously she’s heard about your dad.’ ‘Obviously,’ I chipped in sarcastically.

‘She was being
nice
, Jessie. She seemed genuinely happy that things were going well for us.’

I didn’t believe a word of it, but I let it lie.

Tom doesn’t reply to my ‘
It’s ridiculous!
’ comment and, when I look back at him, his jaw is rigid with tension. My eyes travel along the length
of his long, lean arms until they rest on his tanned hands gripping the steering wheel. He looks so sexy behind the wheel. It’s the first time he’s driven me anywhere without his mum in
the passenger seat.

I’m suddenly tempted to unclick my seatbelt and climb closer so I can press my lips to his warm neck, but I know that would be pushing my luck. And anyway I’d better not distract
him. He glances in the rear-view mirror and his frown deepens.

‘What is it?’ I ask, my thoughts still on kissing him.

‘I don’t know,’ he murmurs. ‘That white van has been behind us for a while.’

I swivel in my seat and look through the back window, but I can’t make out anyone in the driver’s seat. ‘You’re being paranoid,’ I say, brushing him off, and then
he’s swerving off the main road into a smaller one.

‘Whoa!’ I gasp, trying to stay upright. The van flies straight past us on the main road. ‘See?’ I exclaim. ‘Nothing to worry about. Jeez! Pull over.’

He doesn’t bother indicating as he crunches to a stop at the entrance to a private driveway. I flash him a dark look and wrench open the door, hopping out onto the gravel.

‘Oi,’ he calls. ‘Where do you think you’re going?’

‘I need some air,’ I state, slamming the door shut.

A moment later he joins me. I glare up at him.

‘Come on, maybe we should go to your dad’s place,’ he says gently, his brown eyes crinkling with concern.

I stare at him, incredulous. I can’t believe he’s saying that to me. ‘No!’ I raise my voice. ‘I’m sick of feeling like a prisoner! I just want some alone time
with my boyfriend – is that too much to ask?’

‘Hey,’ he says softly, sliding his arms round my waist and pulling me against his firm chest. To my surprise, I discover I’m fighting back tears…

‘Kiss me,’ I demand, tilting my face up to him.

He touches his lips to mine, but withdraws all too quickly. ‘We’re parked in somebody’s driveway,’ he says uncertainly.

I start to laugh, but the sound is verging on manic, the laugh of a crazy person who’s been locked up for too long.

I take a few steps backwards, away from him. He snatches my hand and pulls me towards him and this time he kisses me like he means it. The sun, surprisingly warm for October, beats down on our
heads as his hands circle my waist and then he pushes me back against the car door and traps me with his body. We kiss like it’s our last, and it is so, so sweet. I draw a sharp breath as he
wrenches his lips away from mine and stares past me, over the car roof. His whole body tenses.

‘The van,’ he says in a low, urgent voice.

Before I can roll my eyes, I hear it, like thunder, hurtling towards us. And then it screeches to a stop and my heart stops with it because I
know
we’re in danger.

‘RUN!’ I scream at the sight of the two men in the front seat. I shove Tom away from me. ‘RUN!’

But he grabs my hand to pull me with him and then, suddenly, Sam’s car squeals into the road. He crashes his car straight into the back of the van and it lurches forward, then Sam is out
of his vehicle and running around to the front and, oh my God, he has a gun!

‘Get out of the car!’ he shouts in a commanding voice.

But the driver revs the engine and screeches forward. Sam holds his ground, but doesn’t fire, and then the driver swerves towards him and I scream Sam’s name, distracting him for a
split second before he leaps out of the way.

‘SAM!’ I scream again, as I see him fall to the ground. The van roars off up the hill, away from us. Somewhere in the distance, police sirens are wailing.

‘Get into Tom’s car!’ Sam shouts at me, before speaking into a CB radio attached to his belt. He’s clutching his left leg and I can see that he’s hurt.

I run towards him, yanking my hand away from Tom.

‘Stay back, goddammit!’ Sam shouts at me, but I ignore him.

‘What happened?’ I gasp, as I reach his side.

‘Got hit by their van,’ he replies gruffly. ‘Now get back into Tom’s car
right away
, or so help me God…’

Everyone is angry with me. Stu, Sam and Johnny. Especially Johnny.

‘What the hell were you thinking?’ he shouts down the phone later that evening, after I’ve been discharged from hospital. Tom and I were both treated for shock, but Sam had to
stay in – he has a small fracture in his leg, which will put him out of action for a while.

‘Sam could’ve been killed! YOU could’ve been killed!’

‘I know,’ I mumble.

I’ll never forget the look on Caroline’s face when she arrived at the hospital. She was terrified and I felt so bad. It was all my fault.

The sound of me crying softens Johnny’s tone somewhat. ‘We’re going to have to talk, Jess,’ he says. ‘You can’t go on like this.’

Things are changing so fast and there’s nothing I can do about it. I think for the first time that maybe I don’t
want
to be Johnny Jefferson’s daughter. Then I bury the
thought guiltily.

Needless to say, I’m not allowed to go back to school. The story about ‘the Jessie Jefferson kidnapping plot’ was on the front page of three of the nationals
today. Poor Tom has had to go and stay with his uncle because his house is under siege.

Sam had been in contact with the police from the moment he’d realised I was missing, and they apprehended the would-be kidnappers at the top of the hill. The men are now in custody.
They’d been following Tom only since that morning, hoping an opportunity would present itself, and I gave them one on a platter.

Bruce returns to cover security temporarily, but Sam comes to the house as soon as he’s out of hospital. I find him in the hallway, leaning on crutches as he talks to Stu. It’s
strange to see him out of a suit, in his simple grey T-shirt and denim jeans.

‘Sam!’ I cry, running down the stairs.

‘Careful,’ he warns. ‘Don’t trip.’

I throw my arms round him.

‘Oof,’ he grumbles.

‘I’m so sorry,’ I say, the tears in my eyes threatening to spill over.

‘S’all good, Jessie. Could’ve been a lot worse.’

‘I’ll never forgive myself,’ I whisper.

‘Don’t beat yourself up. I should’ve known what you were up to sooner.’

‘No, I’m entirely to blame,’ I say fervently. ‘Johnny is furious with me. But how
did
you find us?’ I ask him. I know now that the kidnappers were watching
Tom, but the question of how Sam tracked us down has been plaguing me since it happened.

‘I put a tracker on Tom’s car.’

‘What?’ I gasp.

He raises one eyebrow at me. ‘Your boyfriend gets his driving licence and you’re not gonna make a run for it? I wasn’t born yesterday.’

I throw my arms back round him and hug him tightly, feeling more grateful to him than I could ever express in words.

I hope he knows it.

Johnny is the one to break the news to me. He wants me to go to LA.

‘Not forever, just until things settle down over there. I know you don’t want to leave Tom, but you owe it to him and your friends to let the attention die down.’

I’m so desperate to escape this mess that it doesn’t take much for me to agree, but it breaks my heart to be leaving Tom and Stu, and all my friends.

Tom, Lou, Natalie and Chris come over the day before I leave. I don’t ask Libby. She’s called me several times, but I can’t forgive her. Not yet. Not when
she’s contributed to everything that’s happening right now. Still, I can’t help but miss her and, in the end, I regret not inviting her.

Sam will return to LA with me, but Bruce is staying on to look after Stu, just to be on the safe side. He’ll be able to go home soon, though.

Sometime towards the end of my leaving do, I take Tom off to my bedroom. We don’t have long, so I don’t want to waste time talking. I don’t know when I’ll get to kiss him
again.

‘I’m going to miss you,’ I say against his lips, as we lie side by side on the bed. He makes a sound that tells me the feeling is mutual. I run my hands through his hair and
kiss him passionately as he clutches my body tightly against his.

I don’t want to leave him. I don’t want to lose him, so I cling to him like I’m trying to cling to my old life.

With a low groan coming from somewhere deep inside his throat, he pulls away from me. His face is flushed, his pupils are dilated and we’re both breathing heavily. My eyes follow him as he
climbs off the bed and paces the floor for a moment. Then he reluctantly turns round and holds his hand out to me, offering me a regretful smile. I take his hand with a sigh and stand up.

As goodbyes go, that was pretty sweet. But now it’s time for me to return to the City of Angels, to the land of the rich and famous, to the house of my superstar dad.

I don’t feel anywhere near ready, but it’s time to be Jessie Jefferson.

Sam and I sit side by side in First Class, barely speaking during the whole flight to LA. Davey, Johnny’s friendly-faced limo driver, is waiting when we arrive. Davey has
a big smile and a personality to match, and he clasps Sam’s hand warmly before turning to me.

‘Miss Pickerill.’

‘Jessie,’ Sam and I correct him at the same time.

Davey’s eyes are bright with amusement as they dart between us. ‘Well, I see you two have become better acquainted during your time in the UK.’

‘Mmm-hmm,’ Sam rumbles wryly and I flash a rueful glance at his crutches.

Sam sits in the front with Davey, so I have the rest of the limousine to myself. It’s ridiculously roomy, the bench seat running all the way down one side and along the back of the car. I
reach across to open the fridge and smile when I spy little cartons of milk. A burst of excitement explodes in my gut at the thought of seeing my half-brothers again.

I feel slightly wary of seeing Johnny and Meg. Johnny must certainly still be angry with me and surely that means Meg is, too. She adores Sam and I could have got him killed.

Eventually we’re driving through the gates of Bel Air and, despite the tension in my stomach, I put the window down and stick my head out. It’s a warm and sunny afternoon, not a
cloud in the sky, and I inhale deeply, the smell of freshly-cut grass filling my nostrils.

We start to climb into the hills and I smile at the sight of Charlotte Tremway’s house behind a high brick wall. It’s practically a palace.

I’m a little nervous as we pull up at the gates to Johnny’s mansion. Lewis, another one of Johnny’s security staff, waves at his colleagues from the guardhouse and smiles
broadly at the sight of Sam.

The car travels along the winding driveway and the trees that obscure the house come into view. Their leaves have turned yellowy-orange and have started to drop. I see my bedroom window through
the branches.
My
bedroom. The front door opens and Meg comes out, closely followed by Johnny – and then Gramps! It cheered me up to hear that our paths would cross – he’s
heading back to the UK in a few days.

Davey opens the car door, and then Barney is upon me.

‘JESSIE!’ he shouts, and I giggle as he jumps up and down with excitement. I didn’t even see him come outside.

‘Come and see my helicopter!’

‘Hello!’ Meg calls with a smile, engulfing me in a hug as soon as I’m close. ‘Thank God you’re OK!’ she says on an exhalation of breath.