Free BlackJack (A Standish Bay Romance Book 1) by Christine Donovan Page A

Lindsey was alive, but now he had such low
self-esteem he couldn’t get over the stigma of being a convicted killer. He
definitely could use a therapist, but he was never in one place long enough to
form a bond with one.
    Somehow,
regardless of the uncomfortable seat, he must have dosed off because before he
knew it, they were preparing to land in New York. He told himself it didn’t matter.
He was on his way to New Jersey.
    At the airport,
the band members were caught up in a whirlwind of press and fans. Cole tried to
stay out of the limelight, but since word had gotten out about how successful
their Boston shows were, they were bombarded. He forced himself to be civil for
his fellow band members. They’d put a lot on the line for him. Each of them
immediately dropping what they’d been doing when he got out of prison so BlackJack
could rise again. He felt he owed it to them to put on his acting face and
swallow his pride about reporters and about being interviewed. But if just one
reporter mentioned prison life or Lindsey’s death, he’d walk.
    After the first
night’s show, Cole braved the so called “back stage room.” He wished to God
Shannon was there with him, giving him her strength and support. But the
quicker he got this over with, the better. However, nothing could prepare him
for Kyle Ward approaching and engulfing him in a bear hug, which Cole didn’t
return. Ward had some nerve coming here.
    “You look good,
man,” Kyle said. He leaned close and spoke quietly. “I hope you understand why
I couldn’t testify at your trial. With my re-election coming up, I couldn’t
risk it.” He paused and glanced around. “I thought after I was re-elected I could
help your cause more. You don’t know how sorry I was at being unable to help. I
hope there are no hard feelings.”
    “None,” Cole forced
through gritted teeth. “If you’ll excuse me, I must get going.”
    He made haste to
the door before he stayed and punched the lights out of ex-senator Ward. Cole
was almost free from the confines of the crowded room when he was stopped by a
young, petite, bubbly blonde who shoved a microphone in his face and opened her
mouth and let the bomb drop.
    “Mr. Jackson,
do you have anything you’d like to say about your wife’s death?”
    He felt as
though he’d been sucker punched in the gut—completely stripping his breath from
his lungs. Refusing to answer her, he left the room before he had a full-blown
panic attack for the entire world to see. Unfortunately for him, the bubbly
reporter didn’t get the hint. She followed him down the hall. He smelled her
overpowering perfume, heard the click of her heels echoing in the hall and her
annoying voice repeating her question over and over again. He never looked back.
He crashed out of the stadium door, climbed into the limo and finally was able
to take a deep breath of relief as it pulled away from the curb. Christ, he couldn’t
live like this. He had to get control of his emotions and his life. A reporter
and Ward in one night. How dare he show up tonight and think they could pick up
their friendship where it had ended. Cole could never forget how Ward had
thrown him to the reporter wolves fifteen years ago when he’d been arrested.
Not to mention, he screwed his wife. Was there no honor among friends anymore?
Obviously not, if he and AJ both fucked Lindsey. AJ, he could forgive. He’d
been in love with her. Ward used her shamelessly, and Cole had often wondered
if he could’ve killed Lindsey in a jealous rage over her affair with AJ. Ward
may not have loved Lindsey, but he didn’t take kindly to sharing her either.
    After he exited
the limo, he donned Oakley sunglasses, a ball cap and strolled into the hotel
bar. His eyes scanned the crowd and he sighed with relief. No one paid much
attention to him, thank God for dark places. He took a seat at the bar and
signaled the bartender.
    “What’ll it
be?”
    “Soda water
with lime,” Cole answered.
    The