The After Party (A Badboys Boxset)

by Karr, Kim

  “No, that’s not an option, Mr. Storm.”

  My heartbeat feels as though it is at the base of my throat, loud and uncomfortable.

  Face twisting with anguish, Jasper doesn’t make any response to the detective but looks directly at Jake. “Will you please take Charlotte home?”

  The breath comes sharply into my lungs. “Jasper, let me stay,” I plead before Jake can answer. I want to be here for him. He looks lost. Uncertain. And I can’t stand the thought of leaving him by himself.

  He’s shaking his head no.

  Ignoring the detective, who is growing increasingly agitated, Jake pleads with Jasper. “I’m not leaving you alone this time.”

  There seems to be so much emotion in Jake’s voice. Something I don’t quite understand.

  Jasper gives him a look.

  Jake is adamant though. “I’m sorry, JJ, I can’t. As soon as Will and Drew get here though, I promise I’ll make sure Charlotte gets home safely.”

  Tears well in my throat and get stuck there. JJ. The name his father called him when he knew Jasper wasn’t happy. The name I called him when I knew he was sad. The name that somehow has still lived on in the same tradition all these years.

  The detective is now looking between Jasper and me with keen interest. I don’t like the scrutiny or the assumptions I see popping up in his eyes. Like we’re in on something together and trying to cover it up.

  “I’ll be fine, Jake,” Jasper grits through his teeth with determination, once again ignoring the detective.

  “If you don’t mind, I’d like to talk to both Miss Lane and,” the detective pauses, pulls his notebook out, and then looks up, “Jake Crown.”

  “I do mind,” Jasper mutters, and then his gaze falls softly on mine. “Please go home, Charlotte. I don’t want you to hear this.”

  Suddenly, that connection we shared so long ago, the one that I realize now must be what’s driving the chemistry between us, feels more real than anything I’ve felt in a very long time. With determination of my own, I shake my head no.

  All wet hair and strong body, Jasper turns toward Detective Hill and for the first time speaks directly to him. “Give me a minute?”

  The detective is reluctant.

  “ Please.”

  The detective nods. “The officers are going to begin their search. You can talk to Miss Lane privately, but I have to ask that you remain within the confines of this room.”

  Taking quick steps toward me, Jasper grabs my hand and leads me to the bank of French doors. When he stops in front of them, I don’t let him talk. Instead I whisper, “Do you remember how when you’d sneak over late at night and I’d tell you to go home because if your mother caught you over at my house she wouldn’t be happy, but you never would leave because you didn’t want me to be alone?”

  “Charlotte, I remember everything, but this isn’t the same.”

  I bring his hand to my heart the way he used to do with me. “I’m not going anywhere.”

  Jasper pauses, his breath hot on my cheek. “This isn’t kid stuff. He’s going to ask me what took place that night. About Eve. And about other stuff I haven’t told you yet.”

  I squeeze his hand. “I can handle it, Jasper. I’m not that kitten anymore and I’m stronger than you think.”

  His hand squeezes mine in return. “What if it’s me who can’t handle you hearing it?”

  “Sir.” One of the officers rushes in the room from the hallway. “I think you need to see this.”

  Both of our heads whirl around.

  The sun is bright in the room and everything is so very easy to see. My eyes land on the item brought to attention and I swear I can hear the blood pulsing in my head. Real fear creeps into my mind for the first time since Eve’s death and shock overtakes me.

  As if in slow motion, I see Jasper pull away from me and then lean against the window for support, his own version of shock or maybe even fear having overtaken him too.

  Jake is squeezing his eyes shut and rubbing his forehead.

  In a large clear plastic bag labeled police evidence are those shiny shoes I saw Jasper wearing the night of the council vote, and they are covered in mud, just like Eve’s lifeless corpse was.

  Detective Hill walks toward the police officers, surveys the evidence, and then looks toward Jasper. “Are these yours?”

  The sound of his voice snaps me out of the dark hole I had fallen into.

  “Yes, they are,” Jasper answers, his voice shaky, “but I don’t know how that mud got there.”

  “Yes he does. All four of us guys went outside after the news of the vote and it had just started to rain. It must have happened then,” Jake quickly offers.

  “Is this true?” the detective asks Jasper.

  Feeling like this just turned into more than a simple search, I step in front of Jasper. “You don’t have to answer his questions.”

  Jasper gives the detective a nod and then looks at me. “It’s okay. I didn’t do anything wrong.”

  Jake is once again furiously texting on his phone.

  The detective finds the remote and turns off the television. “Why don’t you sit down and tell me how you knew the victim.”

  With slow steps, Jasper takes a seat on the couch.

  My natural instinct is to follow and sit beside him.

  The detective continues to stand with his arms crossed a few feet away.

  The room is silent until Jasper begins to speak. “I think you already know how I knew the victim. That’s why you’re here.”

  Detective Hill leans against the island. “Yes. That is correct. Multiple witnesses at the party you were having on the night of the murder have confirmed the fact that Eve Hepburn was last seen entering a bedroom in one of the Marriott suites with you and another person. Let’s start there, shall we?”

  My heart skitters.

  Another person, as in a threesome?

  My head whips toward Jasper.

  Jasper nods, swallows, looks at me, and then looks away.

  “We could do this at the station if you prefer?”

  Jasper goes a little paler at the suggestion. With a shake of his head, he wipes his hands on his jeans and sounding nervous, he says, “No, I’m good here.”

  Not wasting a moment, the detective continues. “Okay, good. Then why don’t you start with how you met Ms. Hepburn?”

  There’s a moment of silence before Jasper speaks. “I’d met a woman earlier that night at the unveiling of the Storm and she introduced us.”

  The detective extracts a skinny notebook from his back pocket and then a ballpoint pen from the inside of his suit coat. “Go on.”

  “The three of us talked for a while and then when I knew I’d had way too much to drink, I went to my room.”

  “But you weren’t alone?”

  Jasper clears his throat. “No, I wasn’t.”

  “What time was this?”

  “I don’t know. I never looked at my watch.”

  “What happened next?”

  “Is this really necessary? To go into detail like this?”

  The detective stares at him with those cool slate-blue eyes. “Again, if you prefer, I can take you to the station.”

  Jasper blanches and vehemently shakes his head no.

  I know he spent time in Juvie and wonder if the ghosts of his childhood are rearing their ugly heads. I can’t even express how hearing about his sex life makes me feel, but seeing the fear in his eyes makes me want to take his hand and tell him it will be okay. With the detective’s cool eyes shifting between Jasper and I though, I do nothing.

  “Moving on, the other person that was with you and the victim was a female? Is that correct?”

  “Yes.”

  “And what was her name?”

  Jasper runs a hand through his wet hair. “I don’t know. I called her Blue.”

  Hand jotting something down, the detective looks up. “You don’t know? You were with her at the unveiling of the Storm and then late
r at the party at the Marriott and you don’t know her name?”

  “That’s right. I never bothered to ask her name. Formalities weren’t what the encounter was about.”

  The detective scratches his head. “What exactly do you mean by ‘encounter’?”

  Jasper sighs. “Hookup. One-night stand. Whatever you want to call it. Sharing personal information didn’t seem necessary. She had blue streaks in her hair and I just called her Blue.”

  My skin prickles and I try not to blanch. Jasper doesn’t look at me even once, but I’m certain he must feel my stare. It’s hard not to feel sick, but Jasper’s life is his own. Jake sits down beside me, hands rubbing back and forth on his jeans. When he looks at me, all the malice and contempt that had been in his eyes just minutes earlier is completely gone, replaced with a concern for his friend that we both share.

  “I see, but she must have known your name?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  “You were onstage. Your name was announced. You’d given a speech. Everyone at that unveiling would know your name.”

  “Yes, I assume she knew who I was.”

  The detective stands up straighter. “And the victim? Did you know her name before yesterday?”

  Jasper chews nervously on his lower lip. “No. We didn’t meet until much later that night, and names weren’t what the conversation was about.”

  “And when,” the detective looks down, “Blue introduced you without names being exchanged, that was the first time you ever saw the victim?”

  There’s a moment of silence before Jasper says, “Yes. Well, no. I found out later that we went to the same college and I had met her there once.”

  “So you did know her?”

  “No, I didn’t.”

  “But you just said you met her?”

  “We hooked up once, but I don’t even really remember her.”

  Detective Hill uses one hand to hold his pad while the other is scribbling something on it. When he’s done, he starts pacing the room. At first only in front of the three of us sitting on the sofa; then he widens his path and ends up in the corner near the floor-to-ceiling windows.

  My heart flutters like a trapped bird.

  He’s purposely trying to make us all nervous.

  And succeeding.

  Innocent until proven guilty.

  Innocent until proven guilty—that’s the way the law works.

  Yet, in this town, I know all too well that guilty is an easy verdict rendered even when you’re not in court. My father is the perfect example. A man who tried to return home only to be so unwelcomed that he was forced to move away forever.

  Tucking the pencil behind his ear, the detective tosses his pad of paper on the table next to the picture of Jasper and his father. Then, in a swift movement, he sits on one of the two chairs. Hands on his knees, he cocks his head to one side. “Listen, son, if some kind of kinky sex game went wrong, you’d be better off admitting it now.”

  I try not to gasp but find myself trembling.

  Jasper’s entire body goes taut and he turns red. “That is not what happened.”

  “Okay, okay, got it,” the detective says.

  The buzzer rings. Jake jumps up. He practically runs over to it and hits the button fast to allow whoever it is access.

  The two uniformed officers have moved into the kitchen now and are opening and closing cupboards.

  Jasper’s gaze follows them. “I didn’t kill Eve Hepburn.”

  Crushed by the tone of Jasper’s voice, I decide to reach and take his hand.

  The detective watches us with almost morbid curiosity before turning his attention back to Jasper. “I’m not accusing you of that, Mr. Storm, I’m just trying to collect information because you were the last person to see her.”

  “No, that’s not true. My boss told me he saw Eve after the party in the lobby,” I blurt out.

  Now he’s giving me his full attention. “Cole Reynolds?”

  “Yes.”

  Taken aback, he stares at me as if searching for a lie. “I’ll be sure to check into that. Thank you, Miss Lane.”

  I stay absolutely still.

  He looks between Jasper and me once again. “I wasn’t aware you and Mr. Storm were acquainted. How do you know each other?”

  Just then there’s more pounding on the door.

  Jake is standing beside it and quickly opens it.

  Will, Drew, and a petite woman come rushing in.

  The men both look at Jasper and then the detective with concern registering on their faces. The woman pushes her glasses up and is the first to speak. “Jasper Storm’s attorney has asked that all questions be asked in his presence. He’d hate for police procedure to be questioned.”

  Slowly, deliberately, the detective gets to his feet. “Whitney, always nice to see you again.”

  The smile she gives him tells me the feeling isn’t mutual and that she knows him fairly well.

  The detective looks toward Jasper. “Is Todd Carrington your attorney?”

  “Yes, he is.”

  The detective nods and says to Whitney, “You can tell your brother this is just an informal Q&A, nothing to get his feathers in a ruffle about.”

  They absolutely know each other.

  “I’ll make sure he gets the message, but just so everyone is on the same page, Mr. Storm will not be answering any more of your questions, informal or not, without the presence of his attorney.”

  Lips pursed, he gives her another nod. “Of course. Tell him I’ll be in touch.”

  “I will,” she says with a smile.

  The detective turns back toward Jasper. “I’m going to allow the officers to finish their search without me. If there’s anything you decide you want to discuss, call me,” he says, handing Jasper his card.

  My heart starts to slow but races again when his gaze settles on me. “And I’ll be in touch with you soon, Miss Lane.”

  Although I have nothing to be worried about, his tone terrifies me. It could be because my nerves are already frayed. It could be because I’m worried about Jasper. It could be because I feel like targets are being set up and someone is going to take the fall, whether guilty or not.

  “For what?” Jasper asks harshly.

  The detective looks at him and without answering says, “Have a nice night.”

  Everyone watches as he walks slowly toward the door. Jake is still beside it and hurriedly opens it for him.

  Once the door is closed, Jasper’s gaze darts to mine. “I’m taking you home now.”

  This time I don’t argue.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  STRESS KICKERS

  Jasper

  HERE’S THE SCENE: Me, barreling straight down a double black-diamond ski run at 40 miles per hour. Or me on the racetrack taking curves I shouldn’t be cutting so close at 100 miles per hour. You might say it’s stupid. Or crazy. I call it genius.

  The danger and unpredictability that threaten my life are the same things that have saved me so many times from doing some stupid-crazy shit that might have gotten me into real trouble.

  Adrenaline has always been my thing. Living for that high I get from it. It’s who I am. Moving fast is how I have always lived my life. I talk fast. Walk fast. Drive fast. Shit, I even fuck fast.

  With Charlotte though, I don’t feel like I want to parachute out of a plane. With her, I’m different.

  Then again, everything between us is different than I’m used to when I’m with a girl.

  Good different?

  Bad different?

  I’m not entirely certain which.

  But I can feel it in my bones—the urge to want to slow down.

  Who knows, maybe it’s the shit situation I’m in. Or maybe, just maybe—it’s her.

  It seems like light-years ago that I was on my way to pick her up wondering if she was going to come with me, wondering if what we had as kids would be tarnished or ruined by delving into the past. How fucked up is it that it turns out it might b
e my own actions that do just that and not those of her father?

  Silence fills the air, but I don’t mind it. I push the gas and let the speed overtake me, for no other reason than just because. Windows open, the warm summer air fills my lungs. The speedometer easily surpasses the threshold of 70. The threshold I’d been afraid to cross for three years and no longer am. Because of her. For her. All thanks to her.

  Still, I don’t go that fast. I have Charlotte in the car and I don’t want to scare her. The adrenaline I crave comes from just being beside her, and oddly enough, it helps ease my troubled thoughts.

  Back at her apartment door again, she twists the lock, but before she opens the door she turns toward me. “Jasper, I just want you to know that I believe you. I know you didn’t kill Eve.”

  My eyes greedily take her in. Her stunning face, pink from the sun, her freckles more prominent because of it, her hair a beautiful mess, half back and half forward, windblown from biking and the ride in the car, her eyes so much like the color of the sky. I press my palms on the door, caging her in but not getting too close. “I know you do. But I hate that you had to hear that just now. I meant what I said earlier: I don’t want you to hear the details of that night. Promise me when they come out, you won’t read about them, you won’t listen to them on the news, and you won’t ask me about them.”

  She shudders and straightens her shoulders. Bucking up. Putting on a brave face that I feel she has perfected over the years. “Jasper, you were with two women. Situations like that probably happen more times than I can imagine. Stop worrying about me and what I think. I’m not a prude. I can handle talk about kinky sex.”

  Hearing her say what is only the truth makes my gut twist.

  I hate that she knows about that night.

  Hate it.

  Absolutely hate this situation.

  Against my better judgment, I dare to tuck a piece of her hair behind her ear.

  She stares at me.

  Standing here in silence, I could break it and explain the events that led to that fucked up threesome. But why bother. It’s not like what happened is going to make me look like Prince Charming. “I don’t want you to think of me like that.”

  Her hand meets mine just as my fingers brush through her hair.

  That touch, every time . . . every time I feel something course through my body that lands right in my heart. It’s that same raging storm, and whatever it means I’m not sure I want to know.