Roll Against Regret (3d20) (8 page)

The door closed behind Jackson, and it flipped a switch on my tears again. Except, unlike earlier, they felt justified this time. Not just the result of a long week of culminating stress, but as if I were mourning that things would never be the same again.

My entire body shook until I hurt everywhere, and I deserved it. I didn’t know why I’d just picked the bitchiest fight ever with him. Each new thought dragged me further into a hole of self-loathing. I’d just been fired for suspected embezzling. What was I going to do if I couldn’t get another job?

Worse—what if Jackson and I were really over?

He wouldn’t be stuck with a disappointment like me anymore. I stumbled into the bathroom for some tissue. When I flipped on the lights, wide blue eyes stared back at me from my reflection. Red-rimmed, puffy, and bloodshot. It was the face of someone I didn’t recognize.

I blinked, and so did the woman in the mirror.

Was that really me? I sniffled, and she did too. It wasn’t my face, distorted by grief and self-pity, that I didn’t recognize. It was everything else. The haircut, sweeping my straight hair back from my face and framing it in a way I’d never managed as a girl. The tattoo winding around my neck—ink I’d wanted for more than a decade but hadn’t dared get until recently. My blouse. Sure, the polished cotton was wrinkled from the way I’d been sitting, but it was also vibrant, form-fitting, and complimentary. Unbuttoned just enough to hint at the figure underneath, but not so much as to be unprofessional.

Each bit of my reflection was just a visual thing. Something that looked pretty, or was meant to catch gazes. Draw attention—in a lot of cases, Jackson’s attention. The name surged with a new pain inside me, and I gasped. All put together, it was more. It all represented how much I’d changed since I was younger. The differences Carter was talking about. Some of it was because of my time with Jackson, but just as much was thanks to Carter and the way he’d opened my eyes.

All of it was because I hadn’t liked the way my life was going, so I’d made changes.

I turned the faucet on full-force, and splashed cold water over my face. The shock stung and helped drag me further from the pit my psyche was determined to plummet into. I wouldn’t do the wallowing, self-hate thing. I refused. Things weren’t going the way I wanted, but picking fights with Jackson and Carter wasn’t the solution. It was time to make another change.

My mind skipped ahead several steps, before I could catch up. What hung between Jackson and me now was never going away. I needed to make things right, anyway. With him. With Carter. And I was going to get a little vengeance. If I had any say in it, Mark Kitner would go down for what he’d done to so many of us.

I took several minutes to compose myself and make sure I could speak without losing my shit. Then I dialed Jackson’s number. A text wouldn’t work this time. My heart flipped over when I heard the click of someone picking up. I’d been afraid he wouldn’t answer.

“What?” His voice sounded as rough as I felt.

The tone hurt, but something far more serious would be wrong if it didn’t. I wouldn’t chicken out on this. “I’m sorry.”

“Too little, too late, Pixie.”

A smile slipped out at the use of the nickname. It was probably a good thing he couldn’t see my reaction. “I know. I was horrible earlier. I can’t take it back, and I’m not sure that would be a good idea anyway. Tell me you didn’t mean what you said.”

Silence met my demand. I let it spread between us.

He finally spoke. “I would have phrased it differently if I hadn’t been pissed off, but I meant it.”

I bit the inside of my cheek, to get an external source of pain to focus on. A target to keep me here. “I need you. And I need your help.” I forced out the next words, knowing they had the potential to obliterate any headway I’d just made. “And Carter’s.” Technically, it didn’t have to be Carter. Ryan or Tasha would probably be just as willing to help. And I might still need to ask one of them. It would be better if it came from Carter, though.

Jackson growled. “You have a really fucked-up way of trying to make things better.”

“I know. I have my reasons, though, and I’m hoping we can figure it out together, if you’ll give me another chance. To be what you need, to be able to trust myself, I need to fight for what I want. That means you. I’ll fight to the ends of time for you, because I love you. But I also need your help proving they screwed me over at work, and there’s not a lot of time for that.”

“Why do you want me there?”

“Because having you by my side is better than not.” There was more to it, though. “You’re brilliant with numbers.” He’d majored in accounting in college, though he wouldn’t tell most people. “I need your eyes and mind on this.”

“They already fired you. Why do you care what happens to their numbers at this point?”

“Because I meant pretty much everything I said earlier. Including that I want to see Mark Kitner burn for this, if he’s behind it.” So I wasn’t completely past the petty me.

“If you’re going into this, looking to blame him, the proof will lean in that direction. That kind of bias will only mar your results.” Jackson—the voice of reason even in the face of a minor catastrophe. Another reason I loved him so dearly.

“I know. That’s why I’m calling the two of you,” I said.

The sound that carried over the line was somewhere between a laugh and a strangled cough. “I’m not a neutral party either. I’d see him suffer for what he’s put you through. And Carter’s no more objective than either of us. Besides, if you want to work side by side with me and see if we can heal, he’s an obstacle.”

I’d expected resistance. I wouldn’t cave now. “He’s not going away. It doesn’t matter how much either one of us wants to pick and choose between what parts of our relationship we have with him. I bet you’re almost as reluctant as I am to cut him out of your life, and you can’t just have the good stuff that existed before you two met in person. Before—as you keep putting it—he became more than just Dark.” I was guessing at that; maybe Jackson and Carter didn’t really like each other. But something in my gut told me I was right. “Besides, he’s got an eye for detail. Between the three of us, we can pull everything together, send it off to a couple of higher-ups, and let them draw their own conclusions about what Mark Kitner’s been up to. Even if he’s not the one embezzling funds, his personal vendetta against… well, half the company as far as I can tell, has covered it up. They won’t like that.”

“Wow.” Awe had replaced some of the exhaustion and anger in Jackson’s voice. “You’ve thought this through.”

Not really. I’d made a lot of it up along the way, but it was working for me so far. “Are you in?”

“I’m going to try be the bigger man and let the stuff with Carter slide, but I don’t promise I’ll manage.”

A flicker of hope split through the muddled mess of my emotional state. “Then you’ll be here tonight?”

“I’ll be there. It still doesn’t change what was said earlier, though.”

“I know.” I smiled. “But you’ll be here, and I’ll use it as an excuse to chip away at your rough exterior until we find a new way through that too. I love you completely, Jackson. Carter or not, that hasn’t changed.”

****

Jackson sat at my kitchen table, laptop in front of him. I’d been wounded when he picked the farthest seat within reasonable distance from my spot, but I understood. Neither of us spoke, and there was a lot of clicking and typing, even though we hadn’t started working yet.

Someone knocked, and I swung the front door open for Carter. “Thank you for coming,” I said.

Carter studied me. “I’m not sure why I’m here.”

“Because you’re a good guy?” I kept my tone light.

“Really, I’m not.” He stepped past me, and I locked the door behind him. “I’m the guy trying to steal a woman who dumped him, from a man who’d probably be his best friend—or more—under most other circumstances.”

“That didn’t escape me.” I nodded at the open space that was my living room and dining room. “Pick a seat.”

He dropped his laptop back on the kitchen table, next to Jackson’s setup, and then set a brown paper bag next to it. “I brought beer, by the way.”

“Jackson brought caffeine. You can put the bottles in the fridge.” I didn’t have to see what it was, to know it would be bottled and either imported or microbrew I settled back into my spot on the sofa and told him the same thing I’d told Jackson. “We’re not cramming for exams.”

“No, but we might as well be.” Carter looked between Jackson and me. “Did I miss something?”

Jackson shook his head, grabbed Carter’s power cord, and plugged it into the wall. “Not as much as you might think.”

So far, this was almost going better than expected. Which still wasn’t great, but the night was young. “Did you get it?” I asked Carter.

He plugged a USB stick into his laptop. “I filched an entire history’s worth of confidential files from
my
employer, yes.”

I cringed at the subtle dig that he still had a job, and he shrugged apologetically. “Let’s do this,” I said.

A few hours later, everything Carter and I had seen in the files this morning was coalescing into a whole picture. We didn’t have account numbers, so there was no proof Kitner stole the money, regardless of how much I wanted that. But there was a distinct paper trail that pointed to his antics being responsible for hiding the numbers. To me, it meant he was either the unluckiest asshole on the planet when it came to how he’d gotten petty revenge, or that getting revenge on Ryan and me had just been a convenient excuse to hide something he was already doing.

The biggest ding against Kitner, though, was the beginning of a new trail pointing to Carter. If the audit had happened three or six months down the line, Carter would have looked guiltier than me, just like the signs now pointed to me instead of Ryan.

Except Kitner was getting careless, as far as we could tell. Some of the hints that pointed to Carter—file check ins, modifications, and other changes that had his login associated with them—had happened before Carter had even started. Pretty much right after his first interview. 

Only the bank could confirm whose account held the money, but the top brass would know what to look for, based on everything we’d put together.

The tension in the room had slowly lifted once we started working. As we wrapped up, a silly euphoria snaked in.

“Giving or receiving?” Carter asked.

“Oral?” Jackson laughed. “Giving. Absolutely.”

I didn’t know if I’d ever get used to how easily they slid into the explicit joking and teasing. It felt good to see them chilling out. Even if they were halfway across the room.

“I could have called that.” Carter knocked back the rest of his beer. “Though, I know you’re getting as good as you’re giving.”

Heat flooded my body. “He does do this thing with his tongue and fingers…” Was that okay to say? Was I taking things too far?

Carter held up his hand, palm out. “I don’t want details unless they come with a hands-on demonstration.”

“Get back to me when I’m not still trying to shake numbers loose from my skull.” Jackson shut his laptop. “Answer your own question.”

Images I shouldn’t be lingering on taunted me. Jackson on his knees, dragging down Carter’s zipper, working his cock free, and taking it into his mouth. My senses flared to life at the vivid fantasy. I could help or watch. Which would I prefer? I shook the thought aside. Definitely not an idea I could afford to entertain.

Carter stowed his equipment too. “No comparison. I couldn’t even start to pick one over the other. It all depends on who’s doing the giving or receiving.” He winked at me and turned his attention back to Jackson. “Burying my face in a gorgeous, smooth pussy? Incredible. Then again, having the right head bobbing between my legs, full lips wrapped around my cock…”

I scooted back on the couch and pressed my legs together to try and quell the need throbbing between my thighs. A question flashed in my head and refused to be dislodged. Was he talking about me or Jackson?

“You didn’t say both was an option.” Jackson crossed the room and took the spot next to me on the sofa. He didn’t reach for me, but having him less than a foot away was a rush of relief. It also made it more difficult to ignore the strain of my nipples against fabric. If these two were going to tease each other so graphically going forward, I’d need to learn to bring my reactions under control.

“I shouldn’t have to.” Carter joined us in the living room but settled onto the floor, facing us, one knee propped up. “You’re an intelligent man; you could have made that decision on your own. You meant what you said.”

Jackson draped his arm over the back of the couch and traced lazy circles on my far shoulder with his index finger. Just then, taking the events of the entire day into consideration, it was the most comforting sensation I’d felt in ages. Some of the tightness in my back and neck faded. My racing pulse didn’t ease off, though.

“Fine.” Jackson spat the word, but it had more amusement than force behind it. “Um… Boxers or briefs?”

I laughed. “Are you asking what he prefers on someone else, or what he’s wearing?”

“Carter’s wearing boxers,” Jackson said. “I almost guarantee it. I still have those images burned pleasantly into my mind.”

He meant Carter fucking me. That did anything but help me fight my arousal. “So doesn’t it stand to reason, for either one of you, you’d prefer to see the same thing you wear?”

“Absolutely not.” Carter leaned in and rested one arm on the couch. His elbow settled against my leg. “That’s like saying you only like high-cut bikini briefs.”

I didn’t want this to be about me. Well, I did, but the desire spilling through me would only get worse if we stayed on that topic. “Fine, smart ass. Which do you like to see, then?”

“Strictly visual?” Carter asked.

“Yes,” Jackson said.

“Commando. If we’re talking pure aesthetic pleasure, few things are hotter than having a guy drop his jeans and his erection spring free, unbound. Just as hot as pushing up a woman’s skirt and finding out there’s nothing in the way.”

I couldn’t do this anymore. The need flowing through me insisted I either back-burner it now, or insist Jackson suck off Carter while I fingered myself to orgasm. “Enough.” That was harder to say than I expected. “My turn. Rock concert or MMA fight?”

Two amused faces stared back at me, but Jackson took my cue. “Rock concert. No question.”

Carter shrugged. “You’re asking a guitarist to pick music or punching people?”

“Okay, that was too easy. I want a do over.”

The back and forth continued for several more hours, until all of us were ready to drop from exhaustion. I wasn’t sure who yielded first—probably me—but eyelids drooped and yawns ran rampant as the night wore on. I smiled in relief when Jackson shifted his weight on the couch, to lie down, and then pulled me down in front of him.

“This doesn’t fix everything.” He didn’t lower his voice.

Carter raised his brows.

“I know.” I leaned back into Jackson anyway.

“But I have a feeling we’ll get there.” Jackson kissed me on the back of the neck.

The banter died from there. They both had to work tomorrow, even if I didn’t, so I let them get some sleep.

****

I woke first the next morning, feeling better than I had in almost a week, despite only having had a few hours of sleep. Jackson still lay behind me on the couch, and Carter sat on the floor, arm and head on the cushion, hand resting on my ankle.

I’d have to wake them both up soon, but something in my dreams had forced consciousness on me, and I needed to process. I extracted myself from the two bodies and made my way out to the balcony. It was the first time in ages I’d woken up in my own apartment and not felt isolated.

Everything from the last five days—I couldn’t believe it hadn’t been longer—jockeyed in my head for attention. On top of it all was how well Jackson and Carter got along. When all of the stupid arguments and second-guessing the past got shoved aside, they joked, laughed, flirted, and just clicked like I couldn’t believe.

I couldn’t give up Jackson. I still didn’t doubt that, even after our fight. But I also knew now I couldn’t walk away from Carter. Not that it mattered unless they both chose to forgive me. Wow. How selfish did that make me?

The dream I couldn’t quite grasp rushed back full-force. It had been my conversation with Ryan, the night we’d worked late. His explanation of what he had at home, overlapping some very vivid fantasies of me with Carter. And Jackson. At the same time.

I stared out past the mountains, struggling to process it all.

“What happens now?” Jackson’s question startled me.

I whirled, to see him standing in the doorway. “You’re asking my opinion?”

Carter was awake too, standing now, and stretching.

“I’d like to take it into consideration,” Jackson said.

I brushed my thumb over the stubble on his chin. “You need to shave.”

“You don’t think the stubble’s sexy?” He moved so quickly I didn’t see it, and grasped my wrist.

It was a valid question. I loved Carter’s rough whiskers burning my skin, but on Jackson, it didn’t do the same for me. “You’re sexy, so that helps. But I like your face smooth.”

Jackson jerked his head back, nodding at Carter. “What about on him?” Jackson asked.

“It works on him. Don’t you think?”

Jackson raised his eyebrows, gaze sliding over my face, searching. “Yeah, I do.”

I looked at Carter long enough to confirm he was listening. His expression was flat, as if he were keeping thoughts to himself, but I couldn’t tell what. I gave my attention back to Jackson. “Could you fall for a guy like that?”

Jackson snorted and glanced over his shoulder. “With the arrogant asshole who’s been trying to steal the woman I love ever since I met him, five days ago?”

Hearing the word
love
sparked in my heart. We’d both been saying it for a while, but after last night… Maybe we’d be all right. As long as this went well, that was. “With the friend you never hesitate around,” I said. “With the attractive, intelligent man, who has your back and doesn’t mind that you have his.”

A smile spread over Jackson’s face. “I could.”

The next question would cross a new line, but I’d already been doing that, so I might as well take things a step further. “Could you share him with me? Could all three of us work together, instead of two of us having to leave the third out?”

Carter’s mask slipped, and he widened his eyes. “Do I get a say in this?”

Jackson turned so he could see both of us. “I guess it depends on what you’re saying.”

Carter didn’t meet his gaze. He looked at me. “What if I don’t want to share him with you? What if I want to be the one who has a guy to temper and bolster me, and I want to keep him all to myself?”

The question stung. It dug up an insecurity I hadn’t faced yet. I knew losing Carter was a possibility, but my ego hadn’t let me acknowledge just how likely it was. Still, I’d started us down this path. “Then that’s what you want. I can’t force you to change your mind.” But I could hope and pray he would. My heart ground to a stop when Carter looked away, jaw tight.