Red Riding Jack

Chapter 4

It was another Monday, and I was slouched behind the counter, scrolling mindlessly through my phone when the bell over the door chimed. I barely glanced up—just another customer—until I did, and my stomach flipped.

Jack.

He pushed his sunglasses down, those storm-grey eyes locking on me with the kind of glare that made my pulse skip. “We need to talk,” he said, voice sharp and low.

My thumb froze against the phone screen. “I’m working,” I muttered, forcing a nervous chuckle as I smoothed down the apron around my waist like it could somehow shield me.

He gave the empty café a slow once-over, at the vacant tables, the silence hanging heavy in the air. “I doubt that,” he said, gaze cutting back to me.

I folded my arms across my chest, meeting him glare for glare, even though my pulse was hammering.

“Coffee. No sugar,” he added, like he owned the place, and strolled over to a table, sliding into the chair without looking away from me.

Damn it. Here I’d been telling myself I’d never see him again, and yet there he was, sitting ten feet away, looking like he belonged in the center of my life whether I wanted him there or not.

I fixed his coffee and set it down harder than I meant to, then dropped into the chair opposite him. “How did you even find me?”

He lifted the cup, took a sip, and answered like it was nothing. “Your friend from the club.”

I swore under my breath. “f*****g Joe.”

“Why are you here?” I asked finally, forcing my voice steady.

His eyes narrowed, studying me like he was searching for cracks in my skin. “Why did you leave?”

A laugh burst out of me, sharp and humorless. “Seriously? You want a reason?” I tapped my chin, pretending to think it over, then leaned across the table until we were eye to eye. “Maybe because I never wanted to see you again. I got what I came for.”

His brow furrowed. “What’s that?”

I smiled sweetly, the kind of smile that always came before something cruel. “f****d you out of my system.”

His smirk answered mine, and then he leaned closer, close enough that the heat of him slid over my skin. “Did you really?” he murmured.

The question hit like a punch. My breath caught, my fingers curled tight around the edge of the table. He wasn’t wrong. All I had thought about since that night was him—his hands, his mouth, the way he made me forget everything else for just a few hours.

But before I could say anything, he cut the silence himself. “I need your help.”

That threw me. I blinked, lips parting, half ready to tell him to f**k off. “Help?”

“Come home with me,” he said, simple as ordering another cup of coffee.

I stared. “Excuse me?”

“I need you to act as my girlfriend for a week while I visit my parents.”

The laugh that tore out of me was louder than I meant it to be. I stood, shaking my head like he’d lost his damn mind. “Not interested.”

But before I could storm off, his hand caught mine. His grip was firm, warm, and for a second too long, I forgot to pull away. When I did, he let go instantly, clearing his throat like the touch burned him.

“I’ll pay,” he said.

My jaw tightened. “I know my worth, but I’m not a w***e, Jack.”

His eyes widened at the venom in my voice. “I never said you were.” The sharp edge in him softened, and for a second, I almost believed him.

“I’m sorry, I can’t—”

“Thirty thousand dollars,” he interrupted, and my mouth snapped shut.

I stared at him, trying to figure out if he was joking. He wasn’t.

My heart hammered, and against every ounce of pride, I heard myself say, “Fourty.”

He didn’t even blink. “Deal.”

I shook my head slowly, staring at him like he was insane. “You really are crazy.”

“Maybe I am,” he said with that damned smirk, standing and slipping his coat over the dark turtleneck stretched across his chest. He slid his sunglasses back on, leaned down, and his breath grazed my ear. “We leave tomorrow morning, Princess.”

I froze, my skin tingling where his words touched. By the time I looked up, he was already pulling a pen and scrap of paper from his pocket. “I’ll need your number,” he said lightly.

My fingers shook as I scribbled it down and shoved it back at him.

“See you soon,” he said, and just like that, he was gone.

Only then did I realize I was holding my breath. I exhaled, pressed my palms against my cheeks, trying to cool the heat rising there. What the hell had I just agreed to?

——-

“Are you crazy?” Charlie gasped, looking at me like I’d grown another head. “What if he’s a psychopath and kills you, ditching your body somewhere?” His voice rose, sharp with panic, and I cringed, pressing my hand against his shoulder.

Emily gave us a dirty look as she passed, muttering something under her breath before disappearing into the other room.

“I need this money, Charlie,” I whispered, gripping his shirt tighter than I meant to.

He frowned, shaking his head. “No amount is worth you selling yourself into some stranger’s hands—”

“It’s not about me,” I cut in, my throat tightening. “It’s Ani. The doctors said her treatment plan is climbing over eighty grand, and Mom can barely keep the lights on. They won’t even schedule the surgery without at least a partial payment upfront. Forty thousand. That’s all I need to get them started.”

Charlie’s expression faltered, his anger bleeding into something else—fear, pity. He let out a slow breath and lowered his hands from mine.

“So you’re really gonna risk your life for money?” he whispered.

“No,” I said, even though it felt like a lie. “I’m risking it for her.”

For Ani’s little laugh when she got to watch cartoons before bed. For the way she still asked about Dad, even though he hadn’t called in two years. For the promise I made her the night she was diagnosed—that no matter what, I’d find a way.

Charlie’s mouth pressed into a thin line, and he finally stepped back, his shoulders sagging. “God, Amanda,” he muttered. “I hope you know what you’re doing.”

“I hope so too,” I whispered, more to myself than him.

——

The next morning, I went straight to the hospital before anything else. The nurses greeted me warmly as I passed, and I forced a smile, my chest tight.

Ani’s room was quiet when I slipped inside. She was curled under her blanket, hat tugged down low over her head, her breaths slow and steady. I sat by her side and wrapped my hand around hers, and her eyelids fluttered open almost immediately.

“Amanda.” Her smile was sleepy but bright enough to knock the air from my lungs.

“Morning, trouble,” I whispered, cupping her cheek and rubbing my nose against hers until she giggled. She sat up and threw her little arms around me, and I hugged her back tightly, my throat burning.

When she pulled away, she tilted her head. “What’s wrong?”

I forced a smile that didn’t reach my eyes. “I’m sorry, Ani. I won’t be home for a while.”

Her lips wobbled. “Why?”

“Because I need to work… far away,” I said softly, brushing my thumb across her cheek. “But it’s so you can get your surgery. So you can get better.”

Tears welled in her eyes, and panic spiked in my chest. “Who’s going to take care of me? Mom—”

“You’ll be with Uncle Charlie,” I cut her off quickly, already knowing where her mind was going.

Before she could argue, the door banged open. Charlie stumbled in balancing two cups of coffee, nearly spilling one. “Fuck.”

Ani and I both turned to stare at him.

“Language,” I snapped under my breath.

His eyes went wide. “s**t—oops!” he corrected, and Ani burst into giggles.

I groaned and shook my head. “Maybe this is a terrible idea,” I muttered.

But when I looked back at Ani’s smile, the kind that could light up the darkest places, I knew I’d do anything—even risk everything—to keep that light alive.