I laugh and sit back, nodding. “Fine. But you know that saying, whether it’s true or not. We can never be too rich or too thin.”
Jeff rolls his eyes and looks over at his wife. “I see why you like her.”
Darcy, who's playing with Henry, hums her assent and smiles. “She's got skills, too. You should be careful, hun. You push her too far, you may end up using your sick time actually being sick, as in recovering from a broken arm.”
I give Jeff a wink, and the cop in him blanches slightly. “Don't worry, I haven't had to break an arm in months.”
“Uh... so what do you like on your pizza?”
Henry, hearing the word pizza, looks over, cheering. “Yay! Pizza!”
I look over at Henry, who's got two little fists jammed into the air, a giant smile on his face. “I think whatever he wants works for me.”
Chapter 16
Jackson
“So... three names?”
I'm in extreme pain, something I didn't think could happen with working out anymore. But this is the good sort of pain, the pain of hard work.
I'm trying to balance on just my hands, my legs resting on Katrina's shoulders while she stands and I do incline pushups. The burning is mostly in my stomach area, which has to hold everything in a totally straight line from my ankles to my shoulders, or else. I found out the hard way what 'or else' was a while back when Katrina kicked me in the stomach. Thankfully she didn't kick me too hard, since it was just meant as a warning when I let my back sag.
“Twenty. And yeah, three names,” she says, keeping a silent count as I start my next descent. Each pushup is timed, three seconds down, hold for two, then an explosive push up. And apparently, this is just the warmup. “Jeez Jackson, I thought you'd have gotten more functional muscle with all that mass you're carrying.”
“Didn't... think... I was deficient,” I grunt as I hold my down position, my forehead a fraction of an inch off the floor. I push, exhaling and grunting. “Did fine before.”
“All right, twenty-one's enough, relax and shake out. I'll use my chair for mine.”
Katrina squats down so that I can pull my legs off her shoulders, and goes over to the chair she's talking about. She kicks her legs up and does the same thing I just finished, the only difference being the height of her legs. Most women I know can't even do twenty regular pushups. Katrina, in one of the sexiest displays of feminine fitness I've ever seen, cranks out the twenty timed and elevated pushups like they're nothing. When she brings her legs down, she looks up and sees that I'm staring. “What?”
“Uh... nothing,” I say, taking a swig of water. Still, she blushes a little, and I feel heat rise in my own cheeks. In the days since joining forces, we've grown closer again, and I'm realizing that my feelings for her are more than just friendly. The problem is, we’re not twelve anymore, and I have a lot more on my mind than building model cars. I shake my head and sip my water again. “What's next?”
“Jackson...”
“Don’t even start,” I say, cutting her off. “We're doing this together. If for no other reason that I want to make sure you've got someone watching your back.”
She gives me a look, and I shake my head and stick out my hand. “I told you, Katrina. We're partners on this. After what he did to you, after what he's done to so many others, Peter needs his comeuppance.”
Katrina thinks, then nods. “And what is that comeuppance, Jackson? You know if I take him down, that means jail time for him.”
“Fine,” I say, and she arches an eyebrow. “What?”
“What I have evidence on... it means freezing his assets too if he gets arrested. Jackson, you've made tremendous strides, but are you ready to give up the money, too?”
Katrina, in her normal way, has pierced right to the heart of what's been troubling me. When I think about it, of course, I don't want the dirty blood money. Thinking about what it's come from, and what it's done to other people, especially what it's done to Katrina, makes my blood boil.
But at night, when I've been lying on Egyptian cotton sheets that cost a few thousand dollars, and a mattress that cost several thousand more, or when I woke up this morning and put on an outfit that probably cost more than what Katrina makes in an average month... I can't help but admit that I like living the good life. I like driving a one-year-old Audi, and eating the best food I can. I like having the bling, and the comfort of knowing that even with a psycho asshole for a father, I can still have money.
So yeah, I'm torn. But still, looking at Katrina, I know what to say. “We'll take him down, Katrina. We can discuss the details later. First, let's use those finances to get to Miami and take care of finding your parents first.”