Page 19 of Defiant
Chapter Seven – Jacob
I’d be the first one to admit, I didn’t get much work done over the weekend. How the fuck could I, when my fucking brain kept replaying Friday night’s events over and over? Jaz had no idea the shit she’d walked into, let alone the shit she narrowly avoided.
Thanks to me, I might add.
All thanks to me.
What would have happened to her if I hadn’t been watching her for my other client? What twisted, sick horrors would’ve happened to Jaz if I hadn’t grabbed her outside the house and helped her walk down the driveway? She might not have made it off the property, someone might’ve dragged her back inside. She’d been drugged, so it was clear someone at that party had hoped to capitalize on that.
The little fuckers. Just because they were in high school did not make them any less dangerous. If anything, they were more dangerous. Kids with money and power—there was nothing worse.
I worked out a lot after I dropped Jaz off near the Fitzpatrick’s house. Practically all weekend I tried to sweat out whatever strange feelings had bubbled inside of me after spending most of the night with her and basically nursing her back to health.
Jaz, like I’d mentioned before, was far too tempting. Her mature face, those big, brown eyes, that long, black hair coupled with those full lips…
She was a walking temptress, and I wouldn’t fall for it.
I worked out all weekend because, having her there, talking with her, feeling her resting against my chest—all nestled and tucked away from the rest of the world—it’d been the farthest thing from wrong. It’d felt nice, and that was something I couldn’t allow.
She was a child, even if she didn’t look it.
That’s when I finally decided I needed to see her, needed to explain what had happened before, years ago. Why I lost my job at the station, my history with the Fitzpatricks, the whole shebang. Surely if she knew the truth, she wouldn’t push me. She could be just a client and nothing else.
That’s what I told myself, anyway, but I couldn’t get it into my head. I stayed in my apartment on Monday, trying to work through the conflict inside of me, but by the time Tuesday rolled around, I figured it was time.
Time to get back to it. Time to see her again, tell her the truth, tell her that our relationship would remain strictly professional—that her falling asleep and cuddling on me that night could never be repeated. I wasn’t going to be her savior. Mr. Anonymous just wanted me to watch her, so that’s what I was going to do. No more interfering, no matter what the consequences might be.
Fuck.
I didn’t think of myself as a good man, but I couldn’t sit back and let her wander into danger, either. It was something I couldn’t control.
After I sent the email to her, I sent a quick update to Mr. Anonymous. I didn’t tell him exactly what happened on Friday, but I did tell him that she got herself into some trouble with a boy. That was putting it lightly, since I’d bet any money that boy planned on raping her, but it was what it was. Mr. Anonymous wouldn’t know the difference.
I didn’t like keeping things from a client—a client who was paying me really, really fucking well—but I also didn’t see why he needed to know every single detail. Hell, I had no idea what made Jaz so important to him, why he’d pay me exorbitant amounts of money to basically stalk her, but I wouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth. I needed the money. I wasn’t proud of it.
After this job, maybe I’d have enough to leave Midpark in the rearview mirror. Yeah, that’d be nice. It was almost too much to hope for.
With me, things never worked out.
I spent my anger a bit that morning on the punching bag before heading to the shower. I’d emailed Jaz to meet me at the diner after school—no way in hell was I ever going to bring her back here again. Silly me thought that was that, but when I checked my phone as I headed to the bathroom to shower, I saw she’d replied.
She didn’t want to meet at the diner. She wanted to meet at the school.
No. Fuck that. I wasn’t going to step foot on school grounds, not after what happened last time with Celeste.
I set the phone near the sink in the bathroom, leaning on the counter as I stared at the email. My eyes flicked up, meeting my reflection. A man stared back at me, a stranger. The light brown hair I had was nearly black with sweat, the hazel eyes in the mirror just a tad too dark. I didn’t look like myself, but I supposed that was a good thing.
I guessed it was true what they said about Midpark: there were no good men here. I sure as shit wasn’t one of them, and I’d never pretend to be.
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.
