Page 21 of Defiant
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 hand 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.
