Somehow, I wound up responding to her email, confirming that I’d meet her in the parking lot of Midpark High, even though I knew I shouldn’t. My willpower when it came to her was…startlingly weak, and I had no idea why.
Once the email was sent, I tore off my clothes and hopped in the shower. A shower wasn’t a shower unless the water was a bit scalding, and I stood under the showerhead, letting it run over me, ignoring the pain that surfaced from the heat of the water. I’d felt true heat before. A hot shower was nothing.
Touching my chin to my upper chest, I glanced down at my body. It was a muscled, strong body, but not a perfect one. A giant scar, a memory of my past, wrapped around my abdomen, curling on my side to my back. It was an ugly thing, a constant reminder of my past any time it was free—which was why I always kept it covered. Hideous and puckered, a giant scar that could only signal one thing, one source of the wound, something that required skin grafts to help me heal.
I didn’t like remembering what happened, what led me to be this Jacob Hall. No one would understand where I came from or why I did what I did. Absolutely no one. If someone found out, if anyone in Midpark realized what happened, I’d be ruined. No one would ever want to hire a private investigator with a past like mine.
Well, maybe Jaz would, but Jaz wasn’t like everyone else around here.
Fuck. I shouldn’t let my mind land on Jazmine Smith while I was naked and in the shower. Talk about inappropriate. Talk about completely asinine.
It was times like these when I wished I was a good man, when I wished I could stare temptation in its beautiful, taunting face and say no. I wasn’t that strong, and, take it from the past and these scars, I wasn’t good at all. I might try to be, I might pretend like most other people around here, but that’s just it—pretending.
I didn’t linger in the shower; I knew if I did, my mind would rest on Jaz for far too long, and I’d want to do something that I most definitely shouldn’t. So, I washed my hair, rinsed off my body, and got out, quickly drying myself before heading to my room to grab some fresh clothes.
All my life, I knew what was right and what was wrong. I knew when mistakes were made and lines were crossed, which was why I was aware of how utterly insane it was for me to be working for Jaz, with her, spying on her for someone else.
It was hard, because even though I knew it was wrong, a tiny piece of me didn’t care, but I assumed everyone felt that way, at one time or another. We all had a devil on our shoulders, along with an angel, and the two were constantly at war, trying to make their humans listen to them.
Of course, I didn’t really believe that. I didn’t believe in God. I’d stopped a long time ago.
When it was time to go, I headed out of my apartment, locking every single lock on my door before strolling out of the building and to my car. I got in, heaved a sigh before buckling my seatbelt and started her up.
At least the diner was public. At least it wasn’t an enclosed space. Me being in such close contact with Jaz was…
No, I’d be fine. I wasn’t going to let her big, brown eyes sway me to do anything I wouldn’t normally.
I drove to the school, and the very moment Midpark High’s modern walls appeared in the distance, I felt a stone sinking in my gut. I really did hate seeing that place, hated above all else the memories in the back of my head, the things that had happened here. The things that certain people had gotten away with.
Celeste and her twin stepbrothers were gone, that much I was aware of. She’d basically fallen off the face of the earth, which was fine. She only got me in trouble, anyway.
But the fact that Astrid, Oliver Fitzpatrick’s second wife and Celeste’s mother, was also gone? That gave me pause. If anyone would know whether Astrid was truly gone or just slipping under the radar and refusing to leave the house, it’d be Jaz. You didn’t live in a house and not know who else lived under the same roof.
No, Astrid was gone, too.
I’d tried to look her up, but I couldn’t find anything on her. Her cell phone had been disconnected. Everything that might’ve had her name on it only had Oliver’s. There literally was no trace of the woman, which didn’t sit well with me.
You see, I’d looked up Oliver’s first wife, too—years ago, back when Celeste came back and wowed the world. Something never sat quite right with me about any of the Fitzpatricks, and I was right to be wary. Zane and Thorne were brutes in disguise, monsters with wealth. I didn’t doubt that if something had happened to Oliver’s wives, his sons were at the root.
But that was all suspicion; I had no proof.
It also didn’t matter now, seeing as how they were gone.
What could I say, though? I was still a bit ticked off that they’d forwarded some photos to my commanding officer and made me lose my job. My badge had been literally the only thing I’d been proud of in my life; it’s who I wanted to be, especially after the fire. I was the man I thought Jacob Hall always should’ve been.
Look at me now. How the mighty had fallen.
I parked in one of the empty spots in the lot, as far back as I could. The spots beside my car were empty, which was good. I didn’t want anyone recognizing me here. The high school hadn’t let out yet, but I saw a line of cars backed up near the front door, idling along the sidewalk. Rides for those who didn’t have cars, or whose families could pay a chauffeur to take their kid to school and back each day.
I zoned out for a bit, staring at the stainless steel Midpark High sign, remembering those days when I had to shadow Celeste because the MPD had assured her mother we would keep watch on her, protect her should her kidnapper try to take her again.
Fuck. They should’ve put someone old there. An old woman, preferably. What the fuck did they expect, putting a young male cop in a high school? I attracted way too much attention. It’d been awful.
The sounds of a loud motorcycle dragged me out of my mind, and I spotted a bike pulling into the parking lot. He seemed to be heading toward the back of the lot, where I was, and as the bike and its rider drove closer, I couldn’t help but narrow my eyes at him.
The sides of his head were shaved short, revealing a thick, black tribal tattoo. He wore an abundance of leather, too. Both those things signaled that he wasn’t a resident of town, nor was he a student at the school. Did some rich Mary Jane nab a gangster boyfriend?
Something didn’t sit right with me, and the feeling in my gut only intensified when he pulled his bike in the empty spot beside my car. I didn’t turn to outright stare at him, but I wanted to. After all, there were a few other empty spots, besides the one near my vehicle. Why couldn’t he have chosen one of those spots instead?
He kicked the stand, and it was but a moment later when I heard a tap, tap, tap on my window.
What the absolute fuck?
My jaw set, and I met his eyes through the glass. A pair of blue orbs that I would easily label crazy stared at me, practically unblinking. It was clear he wanted me to roll down the window, which I really did not want to do, but I knew the building had cameras on its every corner now, so if this thug were to shoot me or rob me, there’d be video evidence of it.
Might as well try to get him out of my hair before Jaz came out, right?
I hit the window button, rolling it down a bit. Not all the way, but enough that whatever this guy wanted, I could hear him. God, I really hoped he wasn’t a potential client, or someone who was angry at one of the outcomes of a past case of mine. He looked like a thug, clearly out of high school, but not by many years. I had no idea what the hell he could want with me.
I said nothing once the window was rolled down halfway, but the tattooed guy did: “Come on, man. We can’t have a conversation like this.” He had the audacity to reach toward the window and try to push the glass down the rest of the way.
“Considering I don’t know who you are,” I spoke through the glass, making no moves to lower it any more, “I think it’s good enough.”
And then he actually pushed his h
and through the half-open window, offering it to me, his arm bent in an awkward manner. “Dante Storm,” he said. When I did not go to shake that hand, he slowly withdrew it, shooting me an unimpressed look through the glass. “Come on, man. You and I need to talk. I’ve been dying to have words with you since I saw you take home a drugged Jaz and keep her in your apartment overnight.”
My palms started to sweat. Even though I’d done nothing wrong, nothing inappropriate with her, it was still a bodily reaction I could not hide, couldn’t stop. I guess a part of me was still the me of three years ago, not wanting anyone to think I could ever lay my hands on a child—even if that child was eighteen.
Eighteen, stubborn as all hell, and far too beautiful for her own good. A trio of disaster, really.
I ground my teeth as I hit the window button and lowered it all the way, letting this Dante Storm lean in and give me a smirk that was a little unnerving and a whole lot annoying. “What are you talking about?” Asking him, feigning ignorance, was stupid, but it was the only thing I could think of to do.
God damn it, Jaz. What sort of shit did you drag me into?
“I’ve been here for a while, you know,” Dante went on, “watching her, so I know you’ve been watching her, too. She might be oblivious, but I’m not.” And then, when he said what he said next, I felt my stomach drop. “I have a video of you practically shoving her in your car—and her getting sick—if you want to see it. I also have a short one of you taking her inside your apartment building—maybe you’ll find that one interesting, too.”
Nothing had gone on that night, but was that a chance I was willing to take? Demanding to see the video would be pointless; Dante told me this because there was something he wanted my help with.
Dante was the new Zane and Thorne, whoever the fuck he was.
“What do you want?” I asked, frowning at him, resisting my urge to reach for his neck and strangle him. Again, cameras. Had to remember that.
God, had I truly been so wrapped up in what those students had done to Jaz, in trying to get Jaz somewhere safe, that I neglected to pay attention to my surroundings? It was the only explanation for how this tattooed freak knew about what happened Friday. That wasn’t something vague or general you could guess at and probably be correct.
“Actually,” Dante spoke, glancing at the school, “I want to get in there.”
“You want to…enroll?” He looked a little old to be a high school student, but maybe his records could state he’d failed a few grades. What the hell did that have to do with me? I didn’t have the money to fudge records like that and get him enrolled in Midpark High—
I did have the money from Mr. Anonymous, but that went to pay my rent for the month and towards my stockpile for getting out of this festering dump.
Then again, I wouldn’t be able to leave if I was under investigation for rape and drugging a girl.
Fuck it all to hell.
“Yeah, that’s right,” Dante spoke, giving me a grin. “I also need a place to live, and I’m hoping you can help me out with that.”
A place to live? This Dante was literally blackmailing me so he could enroll in Midpark High and live here? Why? It really wasn’t that special; why couldn’t he just go home and forget all about what he saw? And delete the videos, too.
The sigh that escaped me then came out sounding more like a growl. “I’ll see what I can do.”
“Great,” Dante spoke, tapping the side of my car in a rhythm. “Give me your phone, I’ll put my number in it.” He glanced at the high school’s doors when I hesitated. “Come on, old man. Don’t have all day.”
I greatly resented being called an old man—I was twenty-fucking-nine years old—but eventually I pulled out my phone, unlocked it with my face, and handed it to him.
As he input his name and number into my contacts, Dante added, “Oh, and do me a favor, alright? Don’t mention me to Jaz. I want it to be a surprise.” He handed my phone back, meeting my confused stare.
Did I miss something, or did Dante speak of Jaz like he knew her?
I managed to nod, watching as he returned to his bike and practically flew out of the parking lot. A new possibility popped into my head as I rolled up the window, blocking out the cool air gusting inside the car.
What if Dante Storm was an ex-boyfriend of Jaz’s? I’d checked all the sites for Jaz, but I found no social media profiles, which was most definitely strange for someone her age. What if she and her mother moved here to hide from an abusive ex?
Shit.
I had to check this Dante Storm out before I could do anything for the prick.
By the time the school let out, I was fuming in my car. Jaz must’ve taken her good old time inside, for it was a while before she emerged. Her gaze scanned the parking lot, spotting my car in the back. She pushed past the crowds, heading toward me.
I couldn’t look at her, not with the recent memory of Dante in my head. I’d done a good fucking deed last week, and this was what I got? See? I should know by now to just let the pieces fall wherever they may…but, that said, the mere thought of what could’ve happened to Jaz made my blood boil. I couldn’t win either way.
A groan came from outside my car, and I realized that I’d left the doors locked. After I hit the unlock button, Jaz was able to crawl in, shooting me a look as she did so. She held her bag on her lap, the lean body I knew she had hidden by a coat. Her long black hair was wild, wavy, her cheeks just a bit red from the cold.
Fuck me from here to Sunday. She really was too pretty. Honestly, I hated it. I hated it so much.
It wasn’t the same with Jazmine as it was with Celeste. Celeste was a child, having been kept away from the world for five years. I could tell just by being around Celeste she did not view things as a normal person should, did not react to things the way she should’ve.
Jaz wasn’t like that. She was bold, loud, and she never took no for an answer. She was spunky and pushy, and I frankly never knew what to say to her or how to respond to her. She was…she was just different. Jaz and Celeste couldn’t have been more unalike.
“You saw me coming,” she huffed. “You could’ve unlocked it before.” Jaz reached for her seatbelt, clicking it in. “If you want to talk at the diner, we can, but not for long. I told my mom I’m staying in the choir room with a friend to practice for our next concert, so I can’t stay all night.”
I said nothing, driving us off. It would be best to go to the diner anyway, I think, someplace public. Someplace where I could put a table between us, where there would be eyes and ears on me, forcing me to hold back.
Not that I wouldn’t hold back if we were alone…it’d just be harder.
As I pulled us out onto the road, Jaz added under her breath, “You think you could drop me off after? My mom’s car kind of broke down…she should get a quote to fix it today, but we might not be able to afford it right away.”
Car troubles. Something most people in this town didn’t have to worry about.
Instead of telling her that, sure, I could drive her, I asked, “Why not ask Oliver Fitzpatrick for a raise? Hell, I’m sure the man has half a dozen cars your mom could use until hers is fixed—”
“She’s his maid, not his wife,” Jaz deadpanned, and even though I shouldn’t, I felt a small smile form on my face.
Damned girl.
It was a moment before I was able to stifle the smile and say, “Fine. I’ll take you home.” When I was back to frowning, something that felt normal on my face, I added, “But don’t expect me to pick you up every day after school. You’ll have to figure out something else after today.”
“Oh, damn it, there went my plans for the rest of the year,” she muttered, clearly being sarcastic. “Here I thought I’d get to spend more time with you, get to see your handsome face every day and bug the shit out of you, too.” Jaz shot me a smile. “How am I doing today? Am I bugging you yet?”
She was in far too good of a mood, considering what happened not too long ago. Ew. Sh
e didn’t think we were close now, did she? We weren’t friends. We weren’t buddies. She was still technically my employer—and the subject of another case of mine, though she didn’t know it…and she never would. Spending any more time with this girl than I had to was inviting chaos and disaster to my front door.
Not again.
No more repeats of what happened three years ago.
When I said nothing, she said, “Clearly, I’m not quite there yet.”
I continued to stick to my silence as I drove us to my favorite little diner, the only bright spot in this otherwise shitty town. It was very reminiscent of an old-timey, fifties diner, with the red leather booths and stools, along with the decor on the walls and the checkered floor. It didn’t look like it belonged in Midpark, but maybe that’s why I liked it so much.
“I can’t believe you’re really going to wait until we’re sitting in a booth before telling me why you emailed,” Jaz muttered, unclicking her seatbelt as I parked the car. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, it was good timing because I needed a ride, but my mind is racing with possibilities, you know?”
Her mind would probably only race more, once this meeting was over and she knew my past with the Fitzpatricks. Who knew? Maybe she wouldn’t want me on the case anymore, maybe she’d view me as some sort of suspect, too.
We got out of the car, and I might’ve slammed my door a bit harder than necessary. Jaz left her bag in my car, looking bundled up in her coat as she moved around the car’s front to stand near me. I stared at her, wondering what the hell I did in a past life to get such a shitty life this time, trying to rack my brain and figure out what I was supposed to do with her.
Things with Jaz were muddled, confusing. Her hiring me, me having to keep an eye on her and report everything I found to Mr. Anonymous, and the whole Dante thing…why did it all seem so centered around her? What was it about Jaz that threw everything topsy-turvy?
My jaw set as I led her inside, taking the same booth I did with her during our first meeting, back before I knew who she was, how integrated into her life I’d become so quickly. The waitress came and took our order; Jaz only got a water, but I ordered a Coke and a burger, needing something.
Defiant: A High School Bully Romance (Midpark High Book 2) Page 7
