“What? I like to party. It’s not like I’m an addict or anythin’.”
Vick could feel a headache coming on. How many times had they had this argument?
He went through this cycle again and again. Jack would party and gradually sink into debt with his dealer until he couldn’t afford any more heroin. Then he’d come crying to her, saying he’d “screwed up” and needed “professional help.” After he sobered up, Jack insisted he was just fine, and then the whole thing started again.
Around and around we go.
“You partied to the tune of three thousand dollars.”
He lifted a shoulder. “Yeah, well, I’m young, and I don’t have a wife or kids so I indulge myself.”
“Nobody indulges in heroin. It’s not like you threw back some truffles or champagne. You’ve got a problem.”
“Yeah? Well, it’s my problem. Not yours.” Jack grabbed a mug from the cupboard and slapped it on the counter, then filled it with coffee.
Except you make the problem mine, too. Or maybe I take responsibility. And hey, at least one of us does.
“Why’d the drug dealer give you so much anyway?” It was the deepest in debt he’d ever gone before. “That’s a terrible business plan.”
When he’d shown up at her doorstep, he’d been vague on the details. Addicts lied all the time. Vick had found that out the hard way. Sometimes, she wondered if asking him questions was even worth the effort.
“Dunno.”
She gritted her teeth. “Yes, you do.”
“Rick made me sell it.”
Vick sighed. Another lie.
Jack told her what she wanted to hear so he could get food, a place to stay, money, or things to sell. Every birthday or Christmas present she’d ever given him, he’d sold for extra cash so he could shoot it up his arm. Every time he left her place, she went through her stuff to see if anything had walked out with him, too.
Vick knew how this story would end one day. She’d get a phone call from the police or maybe a hospital. Jack had been in a downward spiral for years, and it was only getting worse.
He’d even sold off their parents’ possessions to feed his habit. And after he’d ransacked what was left of their belongings, he’d started in on Vick’s stuff. They used to live together until she’d come home from school one day to find all her electronic equipment gone. As a computer science major, she needed it for school. It’d been the last straw. So, she’d paid up a month’s rent at a shady motel down the street, and told Jack they couldn’t live together anymore. Vick had never reported the items stolen to the police and wouldn’t ever press charges, despite all he’d done.
But her patience was wearing thin.
“Do you think I’m stupid?”
“No.”
“Then why are you standin’ there lyin’ to my face. Whatever the truth is, I can handle it.” Vick braced herself.
“Fine. I needed cash, and offered to work for him.”
Vick didn’t know if she could believe this new version of events either. The trust had died a long time ago.
“Keep doin’ this, and you’ll wind up dead.”
“Why are you bein’ such a ragin’ bitch?”
He took a sip of coffee and glanced at her as though she were the messed up one. As though, he hadn’t been higher than a kite, passed out on a disgusting old mattress last night.
Vick was losing it. She didn’t have time for his shenanigans right now. She had a crazy guy stalking her because she’d borrowed money to save Jack, who didn’t think he had any issues. It was maddening.
Yet, she couldn’t tell Jack what she’d done either. Knowing him, he’d throw it back in her face.
When they’d lived together, she’d been working for Simon. At the time, she’d told Jack he was her boyfriend, and he hadn’t asked any questions. Then again, all Jack cared about was getting his next fix.
“Because I’m cleanin’ up your mess. Again. Know how I paid off your dealer?”
“You have a good job, workin’ for Dix.” He shrugged. “I figured you had savings…”
“Even if I did, you owe the money, not me.”
“I’ll pay you back.”
She shook her head. “No, you won’t. You never have.”
“Yeah, but you’re my sister.”
He said it like he had a get out of jail free card, as though his actions didn’t have consequences. And maybe they didn’t. Jack wasn’t afraid of leaping because he knew she’d be there to catch him. She’d created a safety net, so he never faced the cost of his poor decisions.
Perhaps she wasn’t doing him any favors by always being there for him.
“Look, I don’t wanna pick a fight with you. You’re an adult and can make your own decisions. So, go back to the Brighton Place, or stay somewhere else, but it can’t be here.”
Not with everything she had going on.
So much for all the righteous anger. I’m such a hypocrite. Accusing Jack of lying, when I haven’t told him the whole truth either.
“Vick, please…?” Jack flipped a switch, putting on his lost little boy face. “Let me stay here for a couple weeks until I figure a few things out. Then I’ll be on my way.”
Vick hesitated.
“Come on, at the very least, I can’t go back there like this.” Jack waved a hand down the length of his body. With the rumpled clothing, bloodshot eyes, his hair sticking up every which way, and the stubble on his face, he looked like he’d crawled out of the gutter. “If they give me a drug test, I’ll fail it.”
He was right, and she felt like crying or screaming at him. Neither of those options would make a bit of difference. Her conscience wouldn’t let her kick his butt out on the street like this.
“Fine. We’ll call Brighton and offer them a believable excuse, like a family emergency. You can stay here a couple of days—48 hours max. Decide where you’re goin’, back to the house or somewhere else.”
“Thank you.” He grinned, happy because he’d gotten his way again.
“And no drugs in my place.” She narrowed her eyes. “Deal?”
“Deal.” Jack finished his coffee, while she grabbed a quick bite for lunch.
Vick couldn’t shake the feeling that she’d made a huge mistake.
So, what else was new?
Lately, her life was one great big mess.
Chapter Seven
The next morning at work, Vick tried to concentrate without much success.
Her thoughts kept drifting from Simon and the bikers to her brother, and then back again. She’d been staring at the computer screen for an hour, willing her fingers to move, and her brain to work properly.
No dice.
She kept checking her phone but hadn’t heard a peep out of Justice and Ace. Vick hoped no news was good news. Maybe they’d confronted Simon, and he’d backed down, coughed up some money, and moved on.
Yeah, and I’m a fairy tale princess.
Things had a habit of going sideways in her life. Best not to get her hopes up.
“Want some coffee? I made a new pot.”
Vick shrieked. She’d been so lost in her own thoughts, she hadn’t noticed Dix walk into her office.
“Dammit. What’s got you all jumpy?” He pressed a hand to his chest, as though he’d had a fright, too.
“Nothin’.”
“Uh-huh.” His tone was wry. Dix crooked a finger at her. “Come on, Fraidy Cat, coffee makes it all better.”
He could be right. Although with her recent streak of misfortunes, the added caffeine could give her a heart attack. After he’d poured her a cup of Starbucks’ House Blend and she’d added half and half to it, he pulled out a file.
“I need you and your boyfriend to go to Chinatown tonight.”
There was a large Chinese community in Houston, about five hours from Crimson Creek. She’d been there with Jasper twice. This past February, they’d celebrated Chinese New Year together by going to the annual parade.
“He’
s not my boyfriend.” She scowled.
“Then how’d you know who I meant?” Dix leaned back in his chair.
“Because you keep bringin’ it up.”
“I’ve seen the way Jasper looks at you.”
Curiosity got the best of her. “How does he look at me?”
“Like a thirsty man starin’ at a glass of cool spring water.”
“Oh.” A flush made her cheeks burn. She cleared her throat. “Did you want us to collect payment from Ms. Wu?”
A few months ago, Ms. Wu had borrowed twenty-five grand for her fledgling massage parlor. She had to get the cash through illegal means since she’d had a felony assault conviction a few years back. The small elderly woman had reportedly blown a hole in a man who’d tried to rob her.
Vick liked her immediately, and so had Dix. Her parlor, Xíngchéng, seemed to do well. She hadn’t missed a payment.
“Yeah, it’s time for a quarterly collection. Two more installments and she won’t owe us a dime.”
“And why am I goin’?” Vick didn’t do these kinds of runs.
“For one, she’s less likely to shoot you.”
Vick snickered. “Good point.”
“And she took a shine to Jasper the last time he collected.”
“Bettin’ you don’t trust Rebel with this either.”
“To a massage parlor with happy endings? Fuck no.” And then his eyes twinkled. Actually, freaking twinkled. “Oh, and it’s a nice long drive.” Dix placed his booted feet on the table. “You two could stay overnight, grab some dinner, and take in a show. Make a trip out of it.”
“Stop it.”
“Stop what?”
“Matchmakin’.”
“Life is short, Vick, especially in our line of work. Settlin’ down ain’t so bad. You two need to stop fuckin’ around.”
She scrunched up her nose. “You shoulda used a different phrase.”
“I stand by my word choice.” He grinned, utterly unrepentant.
“Jerk.”
“Yeah, but you like me anyway.”
Sometimes Vick didn’t know if she should hug him or smack him. Despite his scary reputation, Dix was a kind boss. He gave her plenty of time off, valued her expertise and opinions, and always had her back.
She couldn’t ask for anything more. Well, yeah, she could—privacy.
“When do you want us to go?”
“Tonight.” He clasped his hands together. “As a matter of fact, why don’t you head out early? After you finish your coffee, of course.”
Vick groaned.
***
Two hours later, Jasper drove down the highway, with Vick in the passenger seat. They’d taken her vehicle because his stank to high heaven. He’d power washed the damn thing and left the windows open, but it hadn’t made a dent in the stink.
Jasper decided he’d hand it over to Rebel and get another one, on the outfit’s dime of course.
“Thanks for comin’ with me. Don’t get me wrong, Rebel’s a good guy and all, but…”
“He’s green?” Jasper chuckled.
“Yeah.”
“Talk about an understatement. This is a bit below my pay grade, but I don’t mind.”
Jasper had earned his position as a made man, but he still did the occasional favor for Dix or Byron. And he refused to let Vixen walk into a dangerous situation with an amateur. Sure, Ms. Wu hadn’t made a scene yet, but there was a first time for anything.
“Like I said, I appreciate it.”
“Don’t worry, Vixen, I got your back.”
And Lord knows he’d love to have her front, too. He wouldn’t mind getting to know all her curves intimately.
Being in an enclosed space with her drove him insane. He’d had hundreds of fantasies about Vixen, fucked her hundreds of ways from mild to wild. Sometimes he couldn’t get her out of his head. Jasper was distracted by all sorts of notions.
Maybe it’s because he hadn’t had a good excuse to touch her lately. For the past couple of days, she’d been too busy to train with him, and he missed the close contact. Their sessions felt like prolonged foreplay. And he’d taken to getting himself off while imagining her writhing beneath him. He envisioned pinning her down, pushing her thighs apart, sinking into her. Filling every single inch of her tight pussy with his big, thick cock.
At the moment, he had trouble keeping his hands off her.
He could detect a hint of vanilla and cinnamon in her perfume. She smelled like dessert, and God help him, he wanted a sample. Jasper longed to explore every single inch of her tasty body but feared the unavoidable fallout.
Vick wore a black skirt with a pair of matching leather boots. No nylons either, just smooth pale skin. He wanted to trace the slope of her leg, the curve of her thigh.
Jasper clenched the gear shift until his knuckles turned white.
“What do you think?” she asked.
Aw hell. Vixen had been talking about something this whole time.
“About…?”
“Belle and Dix? Their upcomin’ nuptials?”
“Right, yeah. What about them?”
“I should be the one to throw her a shower.” Her glasses had slipped down on her nose, and he’d had the urge to push them back up.
If I touch her, I’m toast.
“Maybe Mary can help you?” She’d overseen her granddad’s birthday party a few months ago, and it’d been a real success.
“Sure, but then I’d have to spend time at Tucker’s place and it ain’t gonna happen.” She shuddered. “Guy freaks me out.”
“You ain’t alone, Vixen, he gives everyone the creepy crawlies.”
He thought back to the meeting he’d had with the man. Jasper knew going up against Byron would be suicide, yet pissing off Tucker was out of the question. He was well and truly fucked on this one. At least he had the good sense not to drag Vixen into it.
“Did Jack make it back to the Brighton Place?”
“Nope.” She heaved a sigh.
“Sorry. How long’s he stayin’ for?”
“I told him 48 hours, but we’ll see. Jack’s got a choice—go back to the facility or head out on his own.”
He admired her loyalty, even if he was worried about her. Jasper knew she was torn between sisterly duties and doing what was best for herself.
Family had a strong pull on people. Hopefully, this weekend, he’d repair things with his grandmother.
“What will you do if he doesn’t go back?”
“Not a clue. I’ll worry about it tomorrow.”
God, he wanted to kiss her, tug her onto his lap, and hold her. Jasper had this urge to protect Vixen, shelter her from the worst of it. Vick was resilient, and she could handle anything, yet she was vulnerable, too. Vick didn’t belong in their world. She was better than the rest of them put together.
She shifted in the seat and laid her head on his shoulder. When he glanced down, Jasper had a bird’s eye view of her cleavage, and his filthy mind wandered once more.
Keep your fuckin’ hands to yourself. She’s your best friend. Act like a gentleman.
But walking away from temptation had never been Jasper’s strong suit. Vixen had large breasts. He’d imagined how they would feel in his hands, pictured the sweet weight of them settling against his chest. On several occasions as they’d danced, he’d accidentally brushed against her.
Jasper thought about teasing Vixen, sliding her blouse down, baring her nipples to his gaze. He’d suck them until they turned a cherry red. Then he’d slip his hands between those moist thighs.
He wanted her so badly, he couldn’t stand it. Jasper thought she might indulge his sexual whims, give in to him.
And just when did the temperature ratchet up fifty degrees? Jasper felt like he’d stepped into an oven and all he could hear was the roaring in his own ears.
Vixen wriggled in her seat, yanking her skirt down.
Jasper stifled a moan.
What if he made her strip, so she sat next to him,
naked and ready? They were on miles of open road on a dirty isolated highway. He could pull off on the side and fuck her in the backseat.
“What the heck are you thinkin’ about? You seem awfully intense.”
He blinked, coming back to himself.
“Nothin’.”
“I don’t believe you.” Her full lips curved into a coy grin.
Oh, fuck me.
“Because you’re a very smart woman.”
“Anythin’ you wanna tell me?”
“Nope, not a damn thing.”
For the remainder of the trip, Jasper kept his hands to himself, his fly zipped, and his eyes fixed on the road.
Chapter Eight
Xíngchéng Massage Parlor was packed.
The name made Jasper chuckle. It literally translated to “stroke.” Talk about a title being on the nose. The shop occupied the far corner of a strip mall with a red electric sign out front. It was nearly seven in the evening, and a dozen men waited in the reception area.
He had to hand it to Ms. Wu, business was booming. He didn’t begrudge anyone the ability to make a living but didn’t understand why the girls would work in such a place. And he was a little pissed at Dix for sending Vick here and to the strip club.
Speaking of, Jasper didn’t like the way the clientele noticed Vick when they’d walked in the door, and he hurried her away from them. The parlor had white cement walls, linoleum floors, and black vinyl massage tables tucked into the rooms. As they walked down the hall to the office, a low male groan came from a nearby room.
Must be nice.
He hadn’t dated anyone since his fiancée. Sure, he’d seen to his needs with a casual hookup every now and then, but he hadn’t mentioned it to Vick.
Maybe it was time for some recreational sex again. Being hot and bothered all the time was a distraction, which led to a pine box in his line of work.
Yet, he didn’t want anyone else. Jasper doubted another woman would do.
Pull it together, Jasper. You’re here to do a job.
A young blonde woman emerged from a nearby room with a fistful of cash. She wore a V-neck red tank top and a bra which cinched her breasts up to her neck with a pair of tight jean shorts which showed her ass cheeks. She sauntered down the hall with a smiling man in his fifties trailing after her.
Blood Money (Lone Star Mobster Book 3) Page 6
