Chapter One
Pressing enter on his laptop, the video beginning to play, Jackson Montgomery was sure he’d captured something today. He had poured through video surveillance footage thousands of times. Being a private investigator was not as glamorous as the reality TV shows made it out to be. Most of his time was spent in his car taking pictures or videos as proof for whatever case he was currently working on. His clients varied from big businesses trying to catch employees suspected of stealing to a disgruntled spouse in the middle of a nasty divorce, or a married spouse convinced that their husband or wife was cheating.
He never imagined that he would be in the position he found himself in. Behind the locked doors at the private investigating firm he co-owned with his friend and colleague, David Malone, the video surveillance he was reviewing was of his own wife.
Jackson and his wife, Jade, had been married for seven years. Having met the summer after Jade graduated college, he knew right away she was the one for him. Engaged within the first year, they were married before their second anniversary. He thought everything was wonderful. They had money, went on vacations, and even had a kick-ass sex life; or so he thought. There was nothing he wouldn’t do for her. However, he could not ignore the nagging feeling in the pit of his stomach that something was wrong—like something was going on behind his back. So what does a private investigator do when he gets those feelings? He does what comes natural and carries out his job.
Jackson followed his standard procedure—bugged her car, covertly placed a GPS app on her iPhone, requested detailed records of her cell phone bill, summarizing every text sent and received. He swept her computer for any emails or suspicious activity; he even hacked into her Facebook account, searching for information. Hell, who the fuck cares what Liz cooked for dinner? He never understood stupid social network sites. Then Jackson set up video surveillance in their master bedroom and living room. After three weeks, nothing had turned up.
After watching the video for an hour with no signs of activity, he advanced the video, performing a spot check of the tape. Four hours into it something flashed across the screen, causing him to quickly pause it. Waiting until it rewound to the beginning of the spot, he then pressed play. He was literally shocked at what he saw.
Jade stood in their bedroom. Her full , luscious lips darkened with stain, her ginger-red hair cascading down her back in soft, wavy layers stopping just short of her black demi-bra. The bra was merely for show; her gorgeous breasts bubbled out over the top, with just a touch of her rosy nipples peeking out. The milky-white skin of her stomach, abdomen, and thighs was a stark contrast to the black thigh-high stockings and garter belt that framed her beautiful bare mound. The pièce de résistance were the five-inch fuck-me heels she wore on her feet. Fuck! That was the outfit he’d helped her pick out just a few months ago at Victoria’s Secret when they were shopping in the mall! What the fuck was she doing? Was she about to fuck some guy wearing the outfit he’d bought for her? Dammit! His heart raced, he felt clammy, and his stomach roiled. She was beautiful, and it was hell knowing what was about to happen; yet, he couldn’t look away.
Leaning forward , Jackson rested his elbows on the desk and placed his hand over his mouth. He was compelled to watch. He had to prove to himself that his suspicions were right. The video was running on split screens, taken from two different angles. One camera was hidden in the thermostat on the wall and the other in the smoke detector over the bed, making his field of vision the entire bedroom.
Jackson watched as Jade placed her knee on the duvet-covered mattress and crawled into the middle of the bed then turned to her back and
Rebecca Hamilton, Conner Kressley