Page 17 of Three
“Yes. Yesterday, Opal told me you called her.” I send a furtive glance her way and catch her apologetic wince. “And I have to admit, I was surprised. You haven’t tried to contact us since you got out.”
That’s true. And I’d hoped the meaning would be crystal clear, but Opal’s persistence is like my dog’s humping urges…it has no boundaries or a timing.
“Didn’t want to ruin your political ascent,” I remind him. Jasper isn’t an introvert as Cal was, but he’s always been a snob. And having an ex-convict who killed your own brother as a cousin just won’t do.
“And I appreciate it.” He seems honest. “Everything okay?” His eyes dart from me to Opal.
I only nod at him, not willing to tell him what’s going on—in part because I don’t have the slightest idea.
Jasper doesn’t seem convinced.
“Hunter heard about my date, and he checked the guy out.” Opal points at the file still in my hand. Jasper’s sharp gaze flicks from it to Opal’s dress.
“Completely forgetting that I’m quite capable of defending myself, overprotective butthead.” It’s always been so easy for Opal to lie. Obviously, it was for Cal as well. I guess it’s a family trait that skipped Jasper. Or did it? He’s a politician.
He seems to accept the explanation, or maybe just wants to leave. He checks his Rolex, and I know this awkward encounter is going to be over soon.
“Glad we’re still on the same page.” Jasper sends me a long, you-get-me look.
I don’t fault him for wanting to protect the career he’s worked so hard for. He surely made a lot of sacrifices to get where he is now. And I totally understand the unquenched hankering that drives someone to do whatever it takes to reach their dream. I felt it too once upon a time.
“Don’t let us keep you. We know you’re a very busy man,” Opal tells him with a too-sweet smile. I swallow the grunt back.
“Right.” He looks straight at me before getting inside his car and driving away.
“What the fuck?” I groan, stroking my face. “Why did you tell him about my call?”
“I was excited to see you, and he’s family… It slipped.” I frown because that’s not like her. “I didn’t think he’d come. Sorry.”
I pat her shoulder in a reassuring gesture. “Go have fun on your date. Not too much fun, though.”
She rolls her eyes. “I’ll let you know about the partial plate, but I’m not very hopeful. Be careful please.”
I let go a grunt. “Thanks for this.” I lift the file and then move toward my Harley.
“Are those boys still with you?” she asks, and I only reply with a nod. I see the moment she gets it. Whatever she hoped for when I asked for her help won’t happen. Nothing is going to change. She needs to keep her distance from me.
She gives me a small, sad smile and then gets inside her car. My heart squeezes painfully inside my chest, but it’s the right thing to do.
I’m going to visit Marcus Baker to find out if he’s behind the shooting and the wooden planks on the road. When I’m done, I’ll turn to the game developer.
Ramiel Masters.
three
RAMIEL
“I can crack walnuts with my arse thanks to Dr. Kegel and his sublime exercises,” Lori gloats, shaking his plumparseclad in a pair of very tight pink shorts—that leave nothing to the imagination—right in my face. His loose, gray t-shirt is torn in a few strategic places, and his silver toenail polish shines against the white kitchen tiles.
I push him unceremoniously aside, enjoying the stumbling of his slender body, before standing up and starting to roll my lilac yoga mat. When Ollie entered our family a few months ago, he brought along his little brother, Sully, and his bat-shit crazy bestie, Lori. Of course, I love both of them to death.
“Watch it, Red Beard!” Lori sashays his way to the kitchen counter where Sari is emptying a bag of tortilla chips into a bowl.
“You need to find him a new nickname.” Michael smirks at Lori while staring at my shaved cheeks a bit too intensely. Lori has a small problem remembering people’s names, or at least that’s the officialstory since he can definitely remember the nicknames he gifts people with.
But he’s a great yoga teacher. I can reach places with my body I never could before. And my hookups seem to deeply appreciate it.
Lori, or Gremlin—giving him a nickname was only fair—nods at Michael. “Challenge accepted, Bones.”
