Love Is the Drug (24 page)

“No, dear, I’m not. Once Mr. Jörgensen contacted me, came to see me last Spring,”—Jason sat up, sat forward—“told me his suspicions, and I confirmed them with a DNA test—well, I knew it was only a matter of time before I’d meet my gr—his son.”

“My dad contacted you
last Spring?
”

Mrs. Dillon blinked at Jason. “Why, yes. He didn’t tell you?”

Julie grabbed hold of Jason’s fist and soothed it with her hand. “No, Mrs. Dillon, he didn’t. I’m curious: How did he find you?”

“I believe he found me through a detective agency, or something, my dear.”

“
But why did he think you had anything to do with me?” Jason said. His voice was hard.

Mrs. Dillon moistened her lips with her tongue. She cleared her throat and fidgeted with the small fat-hoop earring in her ear. “There’s a diary I believe?” When Julie nodded, she dropped her hand onto the arm of the chair, running it back and forth as she continued, “There was an entry in it which said that…that she thought she recognized the voice—that it sounded very similar to the neighbor boy from the apartment building down the street who’d helped her change her tire a few weeks before.”

Jason leapt to his feet. “Your son was a real sicko, lady.”

The older woman flinched. Her mouth opened as if she would say something, but no words came out.

“Jason!”
Julie said. She grabbed for his hand to try to pull him back down to the sofa, but he jerked away from her.

“No, no, my dear. He has a right to say that—feel that way. After what my Will did—who could blame him?”

Jason crossed his arms over his chest. “How could you allow your son to join a gang? Be such a menace? Violate women?” The last, was said at a near shout.

Mrs. Dillon’s eyes filled with tears and her face crumpled. “I didn’t know…His father—my husband—left me, left us, when Will was fifteen. No notice. Just up and left. And he didn’t send the child support he was supposed to—” She looked at Julie. “In those days—well, it wasn’t like it is now. A man could get away with that sort of thing.” She turned her eyes back to Jason. “I worked hard just to keep food on the table. I didn’t have any skills to speak of, so the only job I could get was the graveyard shift at a donut shop and a part-time job as a telemarketer during the day.”

“Cry me a river, lady.”

At that moment, Julie thought she might actually strangle Jason. There was no excuse.
No excuse
for being so mean. But then she saw the tortured look in his eyes and her anger vanished, replaced once again with heart-felt remorse for all that he was going through.

Thankfully, Mrs. Dillon seemed to understand as well because she quietly continued on as if he hadn’t spoken. “I knew Will was angry. His whole personality changed. During that time, he became belligerent, stopped washing his hair, got his nose pierced, quit the football team. His grades—He was always a straight ‘A’ student—plummeted. I—I just wasn’t there to see what he was getting himself into.” She gave Julie a pleading look. “I did try to talk to him—tried so hard to get him to open up and just tell me what it was that was bothering him.” She sighed. “Of course, I knew
what
it was that was bothering him, but I thought if I could get him to talk to me about it, he might actually listen when I told him it wasn’t his fault that his father left, that he wouldn’t return any of Will’s phone calls.” She sat forward, her hands clasped together like a supplicant. “And Will did say in the card that he only committed one crime before he quit the gang. I believe that.”

“
How convenient for you,” Jason said.

Julie didn’t know how to calm him—get control of the situation again—so she rose to her feet and did the only thing that she knew to do—the only thing that had, thus far, seemed to help him: she put her arm around his waist and stood with him. He was so stiff, his body like a petrified tree trunk, but after a couple of seconds she felt him relax a bit. “Jason allowed me to read your letter—and the card from your son as well.” She glanced up at Jason and then back to Mrs. Dillon. “I believe your son, too.”

This, she knew instantly, did not go over well with Jason. She could actually feel the heat of his anger rise out of him through his pores and permeate his shirt. He walked out of her embrace and strode over to the wall where the pictures hung.

Mrs. Dillon’s gaze followed Jason, slid over the photographs, and then settled on the one with Will in his USMC dress uniform. “He joined the Marines when he was seventeen and just graduated from high school. Lord, it must’ve only been a few months after he….” She cleared her throat. “Well…for weeks before, that’s all he talked about. He wanted to be somebody, he said, do the right thing, make a difference in the world.” Her gaze turned to Julie. “And he did, too. He turned his life around. Excelled.” She took in a deep breath and released it. “It wasn’t until I got the card that I understood his real torment.” Her eyes lifted to Jason’s profile. “If he hadn’t been killed the next day—if he’d survived and returned home—I think—I pray—he would have admitted his guilt to the authorities. Taken his punishment, as he should have done at the time.”

Jason whipped around to face her. “Really? Well you know what I think? I think he was scared shitless—”

“Jason!”

“—
that he was about to get killed—Hell! His card even said he was!—so he was doing his damndest to cleanse his black soul before he went to meet his maker.”

Julie took a few steps toward the older woman, who, at this point was clearly holding on to her composure by the thinnest of threads. “I’m sorry, Mrs.—”

“Don’t you dare apologize to her!” He jabbed his finger at her. “DON’T YOU DARE!” He turned his finger on Mrs. Dillon. “
She
knew all these years that
that rapist
had committed a crime and she didn’t do a damned thing about it. Didn’t even try to find out what it was he’d done.”

“Jas—”

“He’s right. I didn’t.” Mrs. Dillon got up and took a tissue from the box on the end table, then sniffled and dabbed at her eyes and nose. “I didn’t want to know.” She looked at Julie. “At first, of course, after I received it, I was still grieving his death and looked upon the card as a cherished last communication from my son.” Her face crumpled. “As well as some strange premonition of the bombing that took place the day after he wrote it.” She wept into the tissue for only a brief moment before resolutely pulling herself together and facing him again.

Jason barreled past Julie and swiped up the manila envelope from the coffee table. He thrust it at Mrs. Dillon. “Here. Here are the photos you requested, plus video of the place. The letter and card you sent are in there as well.”

He turned to Julie. “As far as I’m concerned, this interview—this whole business—is over. Let’s go.” Jason didn’t wait for her reply, just raced out, letting the storm door slam behind him.

Julie turned to Mrs. Dillon. “I’m sorry. This is very hard for him. On so many levels.”

Mrs. Dillon collapsed into the chair. Her voice trembled when she said, “He looks so much like my Will. Acts like him, too. And his voice…when I opened the door…I thought for a minute it was Will standing there.”

“That’s not something Jason will want to hear. I’m sorry.”

The older woman looked directly at her then and Julie saw the heartbreak in her eyes, in her pained expression. “He did a vicious—horrible—thing, my Will,” Mrs. Dillon said. “But he wasn’t a vicious or horrible person. He committed a crime, but his whole life—before and after—he was a good boy.” She shook her head and looked down at her hands. “And I know—I
know
I shouldn’t feel this way, but I just can’t seem to help it.” She clasped her hands tight in her lap and took in a deep breath. “I’m glad that boy’s alive—glad he’s here—glad there’s something of my son alive in the world today.” Mrs. Dillon covered her mouth and began to softly weep.

Julie crouched down and took the woman’s other hand. “I’m glad Jason’s in this world, too, Mrs. Dillon.” The lady held tight to Julie’s hand, as if it were a lifeline.

The sound of the Vette’s engine firing up penetrated the walls of the house, followed by a much louder roar when Jason pushed on the gas.

Mrs. Dillon sniffled and scrubbed at her cheek with her wrinkled fingertips. “You’d better go, my dear. Your husband’s getting antsy.”

“
Will you be all right?”

She patted Julie’s hand. “I’ll be just fine—don’t you worry about me.”

Julie knew he wouldn’t leave without her, no matter the implied threat he was sending her and she wasn’t about to just abandon this poor woman. Not without first making sure she’d be okay.

Julie slipped the piece of paper from her back jeans pocket and handed it to Mrs. Dillon. “This is my home phone number. Call me anytime.”

“I don’t know…your man didn’t seem very keen on having any further contact with me.”

“This isn’t Jason’s number, it’s mine. And if Gabe and I have anything to say about it, Jason
is
going to want to see you again.”

Mrs. Dillon rose from her chair and walked over to a corner cabinet. From one of its shelves she took a small, gold-framed photograph and a dark oblong leather case approximately six inches in length. She turned and walked back to stand in front of Julie, the items clutched to her breast. As she held them out to her, she said, “Here. Take these. I—I don’t know if he will ever want them, but….”

The photo was a smaller version of Will in his dress uniform. Julie opened the case. Inside it lay a heart-shaped medal with George Washington in profile. The medal was attached to a purple and white ribbon. Julie lifted her gaze to the older woman. “Is this your son’s?”

“Yes. I want your husband to have it.”

The engine roared once more, this time followed by a very rude triple-honk. Julie narrowed her eyes at the door and then turned back to Mrs. Dillon. “Maybe…someday he will. I’ll keep them safe, I promise.” She backstepped toward the door. “You’ll call me?”

Mrs. Dillon’s smile was a bit wan, but she nodded. “Yes, dear. It will be my pleasure.”

* * *

Out of the corner of his eye, Jason saw Julie cram her fingers into her hair to keep the wind from whipping it into her face.

“You are not a nice man, Jason Jörgensen.”

His only answer was to gun the engine up to 90 mph.

“Not nice at all. Downright mean, in fact. That poor woman—God! She must be in her early seventies at least!—was nothing but gracious to you.”

Unfortunately, the sound of the engine and the whipping wind did not stifle her voice, as he’d hoped. Nope. He heard every word. And it pissed him off royally that she had this much control over his emotions, because he actually felt a little remorse now for how he’d acted toward the old broad.

“And slow down. I’d like to make it home in one piece, thank-you-very-much.”

Whoa. Jason darted a glance at her. This was new. And even though he generally didn’t like being told what to do—in fact, it was the best way to get him to do the exact opposite most times—it kind of turned him on. An image popped into his head of her in that black leather outfit. Only this time, she had on a biker hat, a cigarette dangling from her crimson-painted lips and a whip in her hand.

Yep, he could use a little tension relief right about now.

He slowed the car down to fifty and took the exit for the Holiday Inn.

* * *

Jason knew Julie wanted to protest this—okay, a quickie in a road-side hotel wasn’t exactly the way he’d planned their reunion either—but he was making damned sure that he didn’t give her time to think.

He loved the scent of her heated skin, the feel of it under his hands, against his body. “God, Julie. I’ve missed you so much.” He ripped her top over her head, vaguely aware that he’d busted some seams in the process, but so mad for a taste of her that he didn’t care in the least. He wrapped his lips around her nipple and drew it deep into his mouth with a ravenous, harsh suction. She moaned and rotated her pelvis against his.
Sweet Jesus, he wished he could eat her and fuck her at the same time. But—not possible.

* * *

How had she gotten here?
One minute they were blasting down the freeway, the next, he had her in this hotel room, nearly naked, and ready to give up every expectation for her future she still held dear for a hot-and-heavy roll in the hay with him, her almost-husband.

Actually, she did know: He was the sexiest man she’d ever met and she was weak. Weak and in need of that combustible fusion he executed so well.

And it was only just now, when all the clothes were about to come off—when the body that housed her soul was near to being laid completely bare—that her mind, at blessed last, began to come to her rescue.

“Jas—Oh!”

He jerked the zipper of her jeans down and thrust his hands inside her panties, grasping her buttocks in both his hot palms a second before pushing her pants off her hips. They pooled in a heap at her ankles.

“Jason listen to—”

“Later.” He covered her mouth with his own for a very long minute and her bones turned to jelly. Afterward, with her head still spinning from that kiss, he plopped her onto the cold top of the dresser, forced her thighs wide with his palms, and clamped his mouth to the core of her.