But heartbreak meant things appeared differently, it seemed. Having his heart broken justified his actions. Or so he’d thought. Jackson had grabbed on to that way of thinking instead of facing his shit—instead of facing Christine and telling her exactly what he thought of her before he’d returned to the war and found himself a changed man.
Still, the past was done, wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it now. After tonight, he could do what he should have done a long time ago. Admit that maybe Christine had been lonely and had reached out for another man because missing Jackson had been too much. Or that she wasn’t who he’d thought she was. Yeah, that was more like it. Jackson had fallen for someone who didn’t have the same values, who hadn’t meant it when she’d said she loved him. Jackson had seen and believed what he’d wanted to, because it had made him feel good, it had felt right. If he thought about it properly, the signs had been there. Christine’s letters may have contained the right words, but the feeling hadn’t come across in the last few months like it had before. If Jackson read them now he’d see it—see those words as bland, something just written as a duty, to fob him off and get him thinking everything was okay back home.
Maybe Christine hadn’t wanted to end it while he’d been away fighting. Or maybe, just maybe, what with the cruel way it had ended, Christine was a bitch and had orchestrated it that way, had wanted to see the pain in his eyes. To punish him for ever leaving her in the first place, even though she’d known he’d been a soldier right from the off.
Some people are like that. No rhyme or reason.
Jackson acknowledged he’d become like his ex-lover on that fateful day he’d caught her in bed with that young bloke. Expressing no genuine feelings of love, going about with a sneer because it was easier to put on a mask and be someone else. He’d raked in the cash to prove he could do this thing called life by himself.
And now he wanted to be who he really was. Jackson, a man who had a lot to give to the right person.
He paced the lounge while Randall was in his study. He glanced at his watch. Midnight. Time had crawled by since they’d last talked, and Jackson had stayed in this room in order to give Randall space. Time to think about whether he’d destroy the software, keep it active in his home to remain safe, or sell it on. A life on the run wasn’t something he thought Randall could cope with either, but if he let Sid take care of things, set him up with a new identity, he wouldn’t be running. He’d be someone else entirely.
It wasn’t too late to walk away.
Jackson left the lounge and walked to the study. The door was ajar, and he peeped through the crack, viewing one half of Randall from the back. His hair had been gathered into a low ponytail. Jackson contemplated returning to the lounge and waiting for Randall to join him.
“I know you’re there,” Randall said. “Saw you coming.”
Of course he had. The alarm would have told him someone was up and about. Colin had retired to his rooms, although he’d said he’d come out once three a.m. neared. Jackson had told him he wasn’t needed, but the old man wouldn’t hear of it.
“I was here for Randall the first time, sir,” Colin had said. “And I’ll be here again.”
Very noble of him—or stupid. Still, this time the man wouldn’t lose an eye, wouldn’t lose anything if Jackson could prevent it.
“Why don’t you come in?” Randall asked.
“Because you’re busy.”
“I was, but I’ve gone through the data on the main computer in my upstairs room and I’m sure everything is set now. It’s as ready as it’ll ever be.” Randall didn’t turn around, didn’t swivel in his chair to lift an arm and beckon Jackson in. He remained hunched over, gaze undoubtedly glued to the monitor.
Jackson pushed the door and went inside. Closed it behind him. He approached the desk but stopped a few feet away. The man might not want him to see what was on the monitor, which appeared to be a screen full of random numbers and symbols. Nothing he’d be able to decipher, but that code had to have taken a lot of work, and Randall might be protective of it.
Randall pressed a button, and the code disappeared, replaced by the eerie, night-vision-like image of something outside. Jackson couldn’t make it out.
“Grab that spare chair and come and sit by me,” Randall said.
Jackson sat on Randall’s left. He wanted to be the one who was closest to the door.
“You see this here?” Randall touched the screen with his fingertip.
Jackson squinted, leaning forward. Nothing but a dark rectangle filling the bottom half of the screen and a lighter one above.
“That’s out there.” Randall nodded to the window opposite. “If you look closely, you’ll see a rabbit.”
Jackson blinked then concentrated harder. Nope. No rabbit. Then he caught a
