A half-moon hangs in the middle of a black inky sky while the high humidity nearly makes it impossible to breathe. The night has an ominous feeling to it. The new Jackal checks the time and frowns. Twenty minutes. In and out. However, tonight there’s a lot weighing down on the Jackal’s mind.
Maybe it’s time to get out of the game.
Maybe.
Tonight’s job is a multimillion-dollar estate in Alpharetta, Georgia. There is no why to it. It’s just an impulsive job to fill time. The Jackal ignores the voice, warning that this is a bad idea. It isn’t until the alarm goes off that his premonition is confirmed.
Running like a bat out of hell, the Jackal
covers the four blocks to the hidden SUV in record time.
“Are you sure that you still want to do this?” Rawlo asks, poring over the sketchy plans he and his boys have spent the last couple of weeks drawing up. When Mishawn, Jonathan, and Tremaine’s gazes jump up at him, he holds up his hands. “I’m not saying that I’m backing out, it’s just … this is starting to look like an awful lot of work.”
Jonathan stands up and stretches out his sore back. “Of course it’s a lot of work. It’s always a lot of work. What’s the problem?”
“Nothing,” Rawlo says, almost defensively.
“Well, I don’t mind admitting that I’m starting to have second thoughts,” Tremaine says. “It’s been a long time since we’ve done this. What if we get caught? I don’t want to spend my golden years in the slammer.”
“So what are you saying?” Jonathan challenges, tossing down his pen. “What happened to all that talk about fun and adventure?”
Mishawn pipes up. “Are you even sure that you can bypass their alarm system? Technology has definitely advanced since our heyday.”
Jonathan puffs up his chest. “Are you doubting my skills?”
“A little bit, yeah,” Mishawn says testily.
Two seconds later, the group of friends are in a full-scale argument until there’s a knock on the door.
“Fine. Let’s just call it off.” Jonathan storms toward the front door and then blinks in surprise. “Sandra!”
The boys behind him immediately start scraping things off the table—a bit loudly.
“Is this a bad time?” Sandra asks, trying to look over Jonathan’s shoulder to see what’s going on.
“Huh … just a moment.” He shuts the door in her face and then rushes back to the table to help put everything away. “Hurry. Hurry.”
“Why did you answer the door before we put it up?” Rawlo asks.
“Will you stop your bitching and hurry up!”
Sandra knocks again.
“Just a minute!”
When they get everything swept back into a large blue bin, the boys quickly take their places at the table and break out the playing cards.
“Sandra, come on in,” Jonathan pants, out of breath.
“What on earth are you boys doing in here?” she asks, inching into the house carrying a casserole dish.
“Hey, Sandy,” Rawlo greets with a wave.
The rest of the boys follow suit with heys and what’s ups. She smiles and waves back at them. “Hello.”
“What you got there?” Jonathan asks. “It smells good.”
“Oh, just a chicken-and-rice casserole. While I was making one for Jordan, I figured I’d just make another one for you. I hope you don’t mind.”
Jonathan shakes his head. “Now, why would I mind that?” They stand there and grin at each other until Mishawn coughs and clears his throat.
“Do we need to leave?”
When neither of them answers, the boys take the hint and start prying themselves out of their chairs. “Looks like this game is heading over to my place, boys,” Mishawn says.
They all chuckle as they say their good-byes and head out the door.
Once they’re gone, Sandra folds her arms and asks, “So what were you guys really doing?”
Jonathan shrugs while he heads toward the kitchen to put away the casserole. “Nothing. What makes you think that something is up?”
“Is that a real question?” she asks, following him. “I know you. And I definitely know when you’re lying.” She stops and leans against the refrigerator. “You can either tell me now or I’ll go and take a peek inside that blue bin in the dining room.
Jonathan blinks.
“Aha!” She waves a finger at him but doesn’t erase the smile from her face. “You’ll never change, will you?”
“Actually, I’ve changed a lot. It was just all too late,” he admits, moving in close.
“I don’t know. Lately I’m of the mind that it’s never too late.” She loops her arms around his neck. “We’ve all made mistakes.”
“Are you talking about us or that peanut-head husband of yours?”
“Soon to be ex-husband,” she reminds him.
“Sooo, does that make me Mr. Rebound?” he asks.
“No.” She shakes her head and draws a deep breath. “I don’t know whether you’ll believe me, but… I’ve never stopped loving you. I resented what you did. I was always afraid that you’d land in jail and leave me to raise a kid on my own.”
“Security was always important you,” he says. “I realize that. Admittedly, a little late.”
“And now?”
“And now?”
She cocks her head at him. “C’mon. You can tell me. I watch the news. And you know who’s splashed all over it lately? The Jackal.”
Jonathan laughs. “Oh, please. You don’t seriously think …?”
“So you mean to tell me that if I go peek inside that bin, I’m not going to find plans of you and your buddies’ next hit?”
He clamps his mouth shut.
“Yeah. I thought so.” She starts laughing. “You have to give it up,” she says. “If we’re going to try again, then you’re going to have to stop.”
Jonathan’s lips curl into a smile. “You want to try again?”
“Why not? Better late than never.”
Jonathan draws her body up against his and pulls her sweet lips into a long kiss. Sandra moans and tightens her arms around him. After all these years, the time just feels so right. But if he is going to do this, then he needs to be up front and honest with her.
“I have a few things I need to tell you,” he says.
Sandra braces herself at his serious tone. “What is it?” She steps out of his arms. “You’re not seeing someone else, are you?”
“No.” He shakes his head. “But I’m not who you think I am.”
She laughs. “You’re not?”
“Well, I’m not currently who you think I am. I’m not the Jackal who’s all over the news. None of us are.”
Sandra folds her arms. “Really?”
“Really.” He takes her hand. “And if you go look in that bin, you will find some plans of me and the boys looking to get back in the game. But we haven’t pulled a job, and it doesn’t look like we’re going to either—which is probably a good thing since I haven’t figured out how we’re going to get Rawlo through the ventilation system.”
Sandra laughs. “Are you for real?”
“Afraid so.” He shrugs. “I think we’re just a group of men who miss the action. The adrenaline shot. The danger.”
“At least Jordan got it honestly.”
“Robyn,” he corrected.
Sandra starts to argue but finally gives in. “Robyn.”
Jonathan pulls her face into another kiss, but there’s one more thing that he needs to confess. “If we’re going to try this, there’s something else I have to tell you. Something I haven’t told anyone else.”
“It sounds serious.”
“It is.” He takes in a deep breath. “I went to a doctor last week. I’m sick.”
“How sick?” Sandra asks suspiciously.
Jonathan hesitates again. “It’s not good. I have cancer. He says that it’s inoperable and I … The doctor gave me about six months to a year.”
“What?” She tries to pull away. “Is this some type of sick joke?”
“No. I’m afraid not.” He drops his head. “And like I said, I haven’t told anyone. I don’t want anyone treating me like I’m sick. I don’t think that I can stand that.” He glances at her. “I think it’s what really got this foolish notion in my head about pulling one last score. But I know now I’m just fooling myself. Those days are long gone. I need to concentrate on the here and now.” He picks up her hand again. “I’m hoping that’s me and you.”
“I don’t believe it,” Sandra says, shaking her head. “I won’t believe it. We’ll get a second and a third opinion. We’ll fight this.”
Jonathan smiles tenderly. “I don’t want you to have false hope. That’s not fair to you.”
“And I don’t want you to just lie down and die,” she insists with a new fire lighting her eyes. “This was just one doctor, right?”
“Yes, but—”
“No buts.” Sandra shakes her head. “We’re going to fight this, and we’re going to win.”
“I love you,” he confesses. “I’ve always loved you. And one of these days, I’m going to put a ring on you. But I think I have to get a job first.”
“Ring or no ring, I’m your woman.”