Page 55 of Jasper

“I am, am I?”

“Yes.” She fetched another bottle and filled it with milk, picking up Patches as she sat. The pint-sized monster was starving. Rocky stared up at and meowed pitifully, clearly as hungry as Patches and Scrappy. “You’ll get yours in just a minute.”

He clawed his way up her pajama bottoms, and Sloane let out a small hiss of pain. “I am not a human ladder.”

“Yes, you are.” Jasper stroked the kitten as it ate. “How long did the vet say we’d need to bottle feed them?”

“Not much longer. She said we could even try some kitten food in a couple of days.”

“Hear that, you bottomless pits? No more feeding every few hours if you can fill your guts up with kitten food.”

Sloane laughed. That meant they might get more than a few hours of sleep a night. Since they brought the kittens home, they’d been on a strict feeding schedule, and they let you know if you went over their allotted food time by more than five minutes. You’d think they were starving, the little devils.

“So, the tree.”

“Do we really need a tree?”

“That’s like asking do you really need to go to the bakery every single day and buy more donuts.”

“Don’t compare my sugar addiction with your Christmas one. Food is necessary for survival. Christmas is not.”

“Don’t be a grinch. We’re getting a tree, and you’re putting up lights outside.”

Jasper started to say something, but his phone rang. He pulled it out of his back pocket and frowned.

“This is Jasper.” He listened carefully and glanced toward Sloane.

She started to get this uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach. It was the way he was staring at her, like he was debating if he should tell her something.

“You’re sure?” he asked, pulling the now empty bottle away from the kitten and setting it down on the floor. “Thanks for letting me know. I’ll call you and let you know how to proceed.” He listened a moment more then hung up.

“What is it?” she asked the second he put the phone on the small breakfast table.

“That was one of my contacts in Miami. He’s been sitting on your apartment for me.”

“And?” she prompted when he didn’t say anything else.

“And it was broken into late last night and trashed.”

“What?” she whispered. That old panic from her first week here crept back up and threatened to choke her. “They were in my apartment?”

“Greer said they pretty much destroyed the place. Your landlord called the police, and now they’re looking for you. I’m surprised he hasn’t called.”

“I switched carriers a few months ago. My old number wasn’t available, so I had to change it. I never updated it with the apartment manager.”

Jasper reached over and plucked the empty bottle out of her hands. The kitten had been sucking air. “Was there anything there that can’t be replaced?”

Sloane pulled the kitten close and stroked its soft fur as she tried to quell the urge to scream. They found her apartment, which meant the woman at the studio had been from the cartel. They knew her name now. They’d be able to find her. Sure, she always knew they might have figured out she was the photographer for the wedding not far from where she saw them, but part of her refused to believe it. It was what kept her sane long enough to get from Miami to Watford. Now that was blown all to hell, and she had to face the truth.

“Hey, now, sweetheart, stay with me.” Jasper’s fingers stroked her cheek. “Nothing’s going to happen to you. Not on my watch.”

“They know my name, Jasper. They can find me.”

Jasper lifted her out of the chair easily and sat down, pulling her into his lap. “Even if they do, they won’t touch you.”

“You can’t promise that. What if they find where I bought a plane ticket? Oh, my God…I never even thought of that! They’ll know I’m here.”

“Is there anything with this property’s address on it in your place?”

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