Page 81 of Reckless
“Don’t call her that,” Archer whispered, his voice swallowed by the multitude of students walking near us.
“Ah, right. You loved your mother. Me?” I shrugged. “Mine was a druggie who tried on more than one occasion to sell me for her next hit. I guess I can’t really compare the two.”
His eyes closed, and he let out a flustered sigh. “What do you want?”
“I just wanted you to know that I know about your arrangement with Oliver Fitzpatrick. You’re living under his roof, just like Jaz.” I stepped closer to him. “I don’t trust you, Archer.”
Archer could only shake his head and mutter, “I don’t trust you either, so I guess the feeling is mutual.” He pinched the bridge of his nose, looking quite downtrodden.
If I had a heart, I was sure I’d feel something for the guy. He loved his mother, unlike me and mine, and to lose someone you love… I couldn’t imagine losing Skull like that. Skull had taken me in when I had no one left, and I meant it when I said I owed that man everything. I would die to protect him, just as I would die to protect Jaz. They were the only two people in this world I would go so far for.
“Look,” Archer said, his posture slumping a bit, “if this is about Jaz, just stop. I’m not going to hurt her again. I—I need her, Dante, whether you can see that or not. And you know what? I don’t have to explain myself to you. The only person I would ever have to explain myself to is Jaz. Jaz, not you. Do you get that? You’re not her keeper.”
I wasn’t her keeper.
Fuck that.
I totally could be. Hell, I’d volunteer to be her frigging keeper; she obviously needed one with all the trouble she got into on a weekly basis.
I didn’t say anything for a moment, letting his words sink in. Archer looked like he was telling the truth, that he’d never hurt Jaz again, but how could I really trust him? He’d already fucked her over in more ways than one by putting her on everyone’s radar at that party, letting everyone gang up on her.
Jaz might be able to forgive him for that, but I never would.
“Just know I’ll be watching,” I whispered. “And if you fuck up again, you’ll end up just like Ryan and his friends.” As I watched the threat sink in, I let myself smirk and take a few steps back. Oh, yeah. That hit the mark. I turned away, giving him my back, blending in with the hallway crowd.
I meant it, one hundred percent. If Archer fucked up, if he hurt Jaz one more time, I wouldn’t give him the opportunity to do it again. The next time he hurt her would be his last time hurting anybody. I didn’t make hollow threats. It was more like a promise.
Chapter Twenty-Five – Jaz
The funeral was Sunday. Ollie said it was best not to put it off; any evidence that was needed had already been taken from her body. To prolong it would only hurt more when Archer should be trying to move on.
Mom acted like she was a mom to the both of us in the days leading up to it, trying hopelessly to fill the void Archer had in his heart—or at least stuff him with food. That was always a close second. She was wary, at first, but Archer and I were careful not to be too close anytime she or Ollie were near. Plus, it wasn’t like Archer was in the mood for any sneaking around. The boy was just too sad.
I couldn’t blame him. His life had literally started to fall apart shortly after I came to Midpark. I was probably a reminder of everything that had gone wrong, all of the stress that had been dumped onto his life.
Early Saturday Ollie got the call that Melinda had woken up in the hospital. The doctors were worried there was some brain swelling, and she’d been unresponsive until now. After getting the okay from the doctors, the police questioned her, asking her if she remembered anything—if there was a guest, how she’d fallen down the stairs, if she remembered anyone pushing her or trying to get at Bernie Vega.
Her answer? Her answer was the same no matter which question they asked, I guess.
She didn’t remember. She couldn’t recall anything that had happened that day. It was all too fuzzy in her head. But, apparently when the police informed her that Bernie had died, she freaked out, crying and all that. Melinda had no idea Bernie was dead. I didn’t know if that proved someone had killed her or not.
I sat in Ollie’s office, fiddling with my hands. Archer and my mom were downstairs, as was Jacob. He would be spending a lot of time here as well; the more eyes on us the better.
Ollie stood with one hand in his suit jacket, the other held onto a cell phone near his ear. He spoke with Detective Wilde, who was working on Bernie’s case. But, from what I overheard, it wasn’t good.
My spirits sunk when I watched him hang up the phone and sigh as he sat in his high-backed leather chair. Being in this office still reminded me of the time Vaughn and Markus were here, when I was so ignorant of everything going on.
“Not good?” I asked.
“No,” Ollie said. He set his cell phone down on his desk, leaning back in his chair. “The knife that was used to cut Mrs. Vega’s wrists only had one set of prints on them: hers. With Melinda not remembering anything, the department is closing the case, saying it’s a clear-cut suicide.”
“And there’s nothing we can do?”
He shook his head. “I’m afraid not. Unless Melinda suddenly regains her memory—which is possible—there’s nothing. Still, I don’t think it’s a coincidence. I agree with you that this is all connected. We will have to be on guard at the funeral tomorrow.”
I nodded, knowing he was right. Not knowing what else to say, I got up, about to head out, but Ollie’s next words stopped me.
“If something happens tomorrow, I want you to focus on keeping yourself safe. Do you understand?”
