Unmasked by Ingrid Weaver Read Free Book Online Page A

broke. The tears she’d been struggling to hold back trickled down her cheeks.
    She must have been bottling this up for weeks, Jacksonthought. It probably did her good to let it out, so he wasn’t going to try to stop her. But the urge to hold her was nearly overpowering…
    The significance of what she’d just said struck him all at once. She could lose the hotel.
    The irony was almost too much to believe. After all these years, what were the chances the same thing would be happening to both of them? “I understand what you’re going through, Charlotte,” he said.
    She swiped her knuckles under her eyes. “No, I don’t think you could. You followed your dream. You always lived your life how you wanted to. No one can take that away from you.”
    “You’re wrong. I know exactly what it’s like to watch everything you’ve built, everything you are, slip out of your grasp.”
    “How could you?”
    He lifted his right hand, palm out. “Do you know how many nerves there are in the human hand? How many muscles, bones and tendons?”
    “I have no idea. Why?”
    Still holding up his hand, he walked toward her. “Look carefully.” He spread his fingers until the throbbing warned him to stop. “You already saw the back. Take a good look at the rest. This is where the shrapnel went in.”
    She blinked, her gaze going to his mutilated palm. It took her a moment to focus on the mass of red gouges and puckered ridges that crisscrossed the center. When she did, the color drained from her cheeks. She stepped closer and grasped his fingers. “Oh, dear God, Jackson,” she murmured. “The wound goes all the way through.”
    “Human flesh is no match for shredded metal traveling at a hundred feet a second.”
    “I hadn’t realized the injury was this serious.”
    “I was one of the lucky ones. It was only my hand, so I lived.”
    “It looks as if it’s healing.”
    “On the outside, yes.”
    She clasped his hand gingerly between both of hers and looked up at him. “And on the inside? How bad is it?”
    “I can’t hold a scalpel. I can’t even tie a damn bandage.”
    Fresh tears glistened on her lashes. “Oh, no.”
    “ This is why I came home. I’m going to see a friend of mine at Tulane for tests that will determine whether the damage to my hand can be repaired. I had my flight booked before William was shot.”
    “Jackson, I’m so sorry.”
    “I don’t want your pity, Charlotte. I just want you to know that I’m the last person who would gloat over your troubles.” He pulled free from her touch and dropped his arm to his side. “And it looks as if we’ve both got plenty of those. We sure as hell don’t need to stir up the ones from our past.”
     
    C HARLOTTE WALKED slowly along the perimeter of the room, running her fingers over the gracefully arching leaves of a potted fern. Music seeped in through the tall windows that faced the street—celebrations in the Quarter were going into full swing—yet apart from the click of her heels on the wood floor, this event room was silent tonight. The wedding reception that had been scheduled here had been canceled at the last minute after the wedding was called off. The emptiness should have bothered her because it meant lost revenue thatwas sorely needed. Instead she was grateful for some time to be alone with her thoughts.
    She wasn’t sure how she’d gotten through the day. Somehow she’d managed to put on a good front to keep the staff motivated and the remaining guests happy. She’d even made a stab at going through the checklist for the gala Mardi Gras ball that would take place in this room next Tuesday.
    And all the while she’d been haunted by the image of the mangled, scarcely healed flesh on Jackson’s palm.
    How on earth could she have vented her frustration with her own situation on him? Granted, she’d had one bitch of a day, and seeing Jackson again had definitely pushed all her buttons, yet her behavior had been inexcusable. Even though