Our lips meet just before there’s a sharp knock on the passenger-side window right behind me. Jasper holds me still as he peers around at what I can only imagine is Millie’s disapproving face.
“Get lost, lady!” he calls without rolling down the glass.
“You can’t park here,” she declares in a voice that’s as pinched as her features.
“You don’t own the street,” he rebuts just before returning his attention to me, effectively dismissing Millie.
“I’ll call the police!”
Jasper ignores her and bends his head to mine again. Slowly this time, with our eyes locked until the moment our lips touch. This kiss is different from his first. That one said wanting me was an inconvenient truth. This one says having me is an inevitability.
His mouth is soft and coaxing, yet firm and demanding. It seduces. It devours. It tells me that he will not stop until I’m all his, until he is all that I can think about. He wants to consume me. And he’ll settle for nothing less.
When he releases me, he still holds my head, our faces only centimeters apart. His breathing is as heavy as mine, and his eyes are that dark whiskey color.
“I’m one sick bastard,” he mutters. Of all the things I might’ve expected him to say, that was nowhere close to any of them. His voice is both self-deprecating and remorseful. Before I can ask for an explanation (one he would undoubtedly refuse to give me) he’s pulling away.
He glances over my shoulder. “Okay, she just went in to call the cops. Give me ten minutes and pick me up on the street behind this one.”
He’s out the door and across the street before I can even process what he just said and act accordingly. Finally, once I collect myself a little, I climb across the console and into the driver’s seat.
I can barely reach the pedals, as Jasper is probably a foot taller than me, and it takes me a few seconds to find the controls that will move the seat closer. When I finally shift into gear, I make a mental note of the time, subtracting a minute just to be on the safe side.
I drive around Dad’s neighborhood, grateful for the deeply tinted windows of Jasper’s car. They give me some amount of anonymity. As I inspect the passing scenery, I wonder vaguely what my highly educated, quietly competent, probably dangerous bounty hunter is looking for at the house. I also wonder what he might find. I don’t get far with either line of thought, so I abandon them both.
I’m in so far over my head that I have nothing except a whole slew of unanswered questions. At this point, I don’t even have any theories as to what might be going on. But maybe Jasper will return with something useful.
When the ten-minute mark is nearly upon me, I head back toward Alton Street, the one directly behind my father’s. I cruise slowly past each of the modest homes, noting toys in yards and dogs in driveways. I smile when I see Jasper pop out onto the sidewalk a few houses down. He’s walking casually, hands stuffed in his pockets like he might be going to the neighbors’ for a barbecue. All that’s missing is pursed lips as though he’s whistling. But on Jasper that would be overkill. He doesn’t have to say a word for it to be clear that he’s not the carefree whistling type. He’s too intense for that. Too alert and guarded and . . . dark. It’s something he exudes like Marilyn Monroe exuded sex appeal. It’s not something he works at. It’s just something he is.
I slow as I approach. He smiles the polite smile I’ve seen him give others, the one that says I’m pleasant, but I don’t want to be bothered. It’s very effective. And it’s very intriguing. I’m sure that nearly everyone who sees it wants to know more about the man who wears it. I’m equally sure that not one of them dares to ask.
He slides into the passenger seat and I accelerate down the road. At the stop sign, I make a right, turning away from my father’s street. I pause at the yield sign and bear left. It’s then that I see a police cruiser heading toward my father’s place. Jasper timed it perfectly. Not that I’m surprised.
“What did you find out?”
Eyes locked on the road, Jasper points to a gas station up ahead. “Pull in there. We need gas.”
I swallow my sigh and do as he asks. While he’s pumping the gas, I push his seat back to its previous position and walk around the front of the car to climb into my side. I wait patiently as he goes into the convenience store and I wait patiently as he unpacks a small plastic bag of snacks upon his return.
“I got you a bag of those chips you like. And the water you drink.”
I ignore his thoughtfulness. I overlook how observant he’s been. I have one thing on my mind.