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“It’s beautiful,” she breathed, unaware she’d spoken aloud.

Jackson stomped past her. “Your room is around the corner. Might as well settle and get some sleep while you can. This place is equipped with a top-of-the-line security system. You’re safe here.”

She was actually tempted to find her room and see if it was as extravagant as the rest of the so-called shack. But she couldn’t lose sight of her mission. There would be time to tour the house. The time for answers had run out. Stepping further into the great room, she tossed her duffle onto the coffee table which was a clear, bevel-edged glass atop a hand carved wooden base with curved legs. It was a beautiful table, but she kept herself from taking a few moments to appreciate the craftmanship.

Jackson had stopped by the large windows, but she got the impression he wasn’t enjoying the view of the stars that were more brilliant than she’d ever seen them. He was checking out the property, looking for signs of trouble though he’d assured her they were safe.

She dropped her duffle and moved closer to him. “I don’t want to sleep. I want to talk. Or rather, I want you to talk.”

He didn’t even turn to face her. “I have to do a perimeter sweep, make sure everything is secure, and touch base with my brothers. Sorry I can’t keep you entertained.”

“You just said we’re safe here. That the security system has us protected. You can’t run from me, Jackson. I will have my questions answered.”

He scowled at her. “I am not running from you. And I don’t have to answer a damn thing.”

Reagan returned his fierce look. “I deserve to know the truth, and you know it. You’ve appointed yourself my protector. You could easily have had one of the others bring me here, but you did. Like it or not, you’re the one, Jackson. You’re it. You’re here, so you have to tell me what’s going on. My life is the one in danger, and if you want me to trust you, it’s time you bring me up to speed. Tell me everything, not just what you think I need to know.”

She held his gaze, refusing to look away from the intense dark eyes that were guarded and unreadable. Jackson was a man used to having everyone bow to his authority. She’d met his type before, so she knew she could stand up to the challenge.

“Ask me.”

Reagan sat on a chair and almost sighed at how the cushions molded to her body. “We can start with an easy one. Where are we?”

“It’s a safe house. Whenever we are helping someone and they need a temporary place to stay, we bring them here. Gish had it built. He purposely left the outside looking like it was neglected and not worth much, but he wanted the inside to be as nice and comfortable as he could possibly make it. We’ve all used this place from time to time as a getaway.”

“When you’re helping someone,” she repeated. “How often does that happen?”

“Every now and then.”

She crossed her arms over her chest. “That’s not an answer.”

“It’s all I can give you. Are we done here?”

Reagan scoffed. “Far from it. When did you come to live with English?”

He exhaled loudly and shifted his weight between his feet. “Twenty years ago, give or take. I was thirteen.”

Twenty years. She had been twelve and had been without her father for six years. Her mother had remarried by then, and she had hoped to be adopted by Randall so she would no longer have an absentee father.

And at the same time, English was starting a new family with a son who was her age and lived not too far from where his first family resided. Reagan expected to feel angry, but instead her heart was hurt at learning the truth.

“Why would he take you in? Did he know your parents?”

“I didn’t give him a choice. I was sleeping in the alley behind the bar. Once after last call, I sneaked inside and hid in the bathroom until they closed up. Then I raided the fridge for food and slipped out the back. I did that for a few days before Gish found me in the alley. That was before we had the security system installed.”

“And he decided to let you stay and to be your dad?” Reagan heard the bitterness lacing her voice and winced. “I mean, I’m surprised he didn’t call Social Services.”

“If he had, they would have placed me back with my family, and I couldn’t go back. But he wasn’t a dad. He was my boss. I washed dishes to earn my keep.”

“And no one reported him for having a thirteen-year-old working in the bar? Or having a teenager who wasn’t his relative living there?”

Jackson’s gaze grew steely. “No one. Because they knew where I came from. I was better there than where I was living. There’s a reason why I ran away. If I hadn’t, I would be dead now.”

Reagan suddenly understood what Jackson wasn’t saying. “You were abused, and Social Services did nothing about it?”

“They did. They sent me to a group home until they decided my parents weren’t so bad. They put me back with them. I repeated the cycle twice before I decided I was done with the bruises and broken bones and cigarette burns. I don’t know what the hell has gone on with you and Gish to make you hate him, but he saved my life. I owe him to find out who tried to take his.”

His eyes flashed, and his jaw hardened. With his tall frame and imposing demeanor, he could intimidate anyone. All Reagan saw in that moment was the little boy who had never been treated kindly by those who should have loved him.