Misbehaving(9)

Rock shook his head. “Crazy girl. Hank had it coming, but I still can’t believe she did it. Although, she’s claiming she didn’t, and the only proof is Hank saying he saw her running and chased her down. Then he says she jumped into a Porsche and took off. That right there is a lie. Ain’t no one in town with a Porsche. Then, when the cops got to her house, her momma said Jess had been with her all day and was in the shower. Cop said the hood of her truck was cool, so he couldn’t argue with Starla.”

I felt Jax’s eyes on me, but I didn’t turn around. I could almost hear his thoughts. He knew who owned a Porsche in Sea Breeze—he did.

“Knowing Hank, he was drunk or high. But it sure sounds like something Jess would do. No one else had motive. And we all know Starla probably entertains more than one of the cops in Sea Breeze at Jugs,” Preston said, still amused and grinning.

Jugs? What’s Jugs? I didn’t ask. Instead I stayed quiet. Luckily, Jax never mentioned the Porsche that he left parked in the garage here.





Chapter Three





JESS

I had lain low for a week. I was tired of staying at home. Keeping Rock’s little girl, Daisy May, earlier this week had been a fun distraction, but I needed some action. Thinking about Hank and all that wasted time just drove me crazy. It was almost if I was begging to end up like my momma. Not that I didn’t love my momma—I just knew her life was hard.

Besides, as much as I liked dressing to draw a guy’s attention, I did not ever want to think I had to strip for men to make ends meet. My momma seemed to take it in stride. I just didn’t think I ever could. I liked my body just fine. I just preferred to choose who I took my clothes off for. Balding, fat policemen were not gonna get to pay to see me naked. So help me God.

I slid my feet into my red cowboy boots and tugged my short black leather skirt down until it covered my butt cheeks. Apparently, leather was back in this season. I loved leather, so that made me happy. I reached for one of my Jackdown T-shirts. I was going to go listen to Krit and his band tonight at Live Bay. Krit loved it when I wore one of the band’s shirts.

Krit had also loved it when I took it off for him. But those days were over. His sister, Trisha, married my cousin. We were family now, even if he preferred to say that didn’t count. Besides, Krit was not gonna be the guy to save me from my momma’s life. He was just like me: born into a low-class situation and trying to find a way out. We also enjoyed trouble just a little too much. The two of us together had proved to be dangerous.

Momma had already left for work tonight, so I went to her room to spray a little of her Chanel on my cleavage. She used it sparingly, and I wasn’t supposed to touch it.

When I was sure I was ready, I grabbed my truck keys and opened the front door. In my driveway sat a completely loaded black Hummer with dark-tinted windows. Who the hell was that? That wasn’t your average Hummer. It was the kind that was special-ordered. I closed the door behind me and walked down the two cinder block steps.

The driver’s door opened, and out stepped Mr. Porsche. In his hand was a baseball bat. Rock’s baseball bat. Oh damn, I’d forgotten it. Smiling in relief because Rock would’ve killed me had I lost it, I walked over to meet him halfway.

“You forgot something,” he said by way of greeting.

“Thank you,” I replied, taking it from him and sticking it behind my back in case someone drove by and caught me with a baseball bat. That was the last thing I needed after this week.

“Can I trust you with it? Or should I be available for any escape plans?”

Mr. Porsche had a dimple in his right cheek. I hadn’t noticed it before. “I think I’m hanging up my bat. Too much trouble,” I told him.

“Good to hear. Stories of your truck bashing made it all around town this week,” he said with an amused look. “Since the talk is that your escape vehicle was a Porsche, and no one believes Hank because they’re saying no one has a Porsche around here, I decided I’d better drive something else if I was coming over here.”

How did he know that? Sea Breeze was a small town, but it wasn’t that small. Locals didn’t share that kind of stuff with the summer people. He had to know someone with an in. “Who are you?” I asked.

“My name’s Jason,” he replied.

Jason. I didn’t know any Jasons. Other than Jason Condoy, who overdosed last year. I tilted my head and studied him a minute. “So, Jason, who do you know in Sea Breeze? I could have sworn you were right off the island. The Porsche and all gave that away.”

His grin grew and his dimple got deeper. I liked that dimple a lot. “My secret,” he said simply.