Page 15 of Jagger's Remorse
Either he's not sentimental, or he keeps his trophies elsewhere.
The morning sun creeps through barred windows, and I get my first good look at him in five years.
He's harder now.
The pretty boy edges I remember have been carved away by violence and insomnia.
Still beautiful though.
Still, the kind of man who makes smart girls stupid.
Good thing I haven't been smart in years.
"Enjoying the view?" His eyes open, dark and alert.
Caught me looking.
"Just wondering if you've always been this sloppy, or if it's special for me."
He sits up straighter. "Sloppy?"
"The chain's a joke. Your weapons are all within reach if I extend fully. You sleep with your back to the door." I tick off his failures on my fingers. "Should I continue?"
"Please do."
"You've got a burner phone taped under your nightstand. Cash in the air vent. Fake passport in the Bible on your bookshelf—nice touch with the religious hiding spot, by the way." I lean back against his headboard. "Running money. You're not as committed to this life as you pretend."
His jaw tightens.
Score one for the dead man's daughter.
"Anything else?"
"You touch your pendant before you lie. Your left eye twitches when you're angry. And you've been hard since you chained me to your bed, which makes you either a sadist or deeply fucked up about what happened five years ago."
He's across the room before I finish the sentence.
Hand around my throat. Glock pressed to my temple. "You think you know me?"
"I know you masturbate to my memory." I keep my voice steady despite the pressure on my windpipe. "I know you can't fuck brunettes anymore without seeing my face. I know you wake up at the exact time you pulled the trigger."
His grip tightens. "How?"
"Motel walls are thin. The blonde you brought back three months ago complained you called her Scarlett when you came."
His hand drops like I've burned him. "You've been?—"
"Watching? Following? Studying?" I rub my throat, knowing it'll bruise. "Pick your verb. They're all accurate."
He backs away, and I can see him recalibrating.
Reassessing the threat. Good.
The door rattles under someone's fist. "Jagger! Bring the bitch out. Raven wants a look at her."
Ah. The ol’ ladies. I was wondering when they'd come calling.
"Give me ten minutes," Jagger calls back.
