Page 20 of Defiant
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.
