by Kim Karr
Umbrellas pop open.
Someone hands me one.
I sit down on the curb.
Still a little dazed.
But I’m fine.
I’m okay.
Relief soothes the edge of my anxiety as I look down at my stomach. It looks fine. I feel the same. My arms. They’re coated in a powdery-like substance, but they are fine. My legs too, they are fine as well.
Trembling, I reach for my phone in my purse and call Jasper.
I don’t expect him to be available.
“Hey,” he answers.
“Jasper,” I cry.
“What is it?” He’s concerned.
The pressure in my lungs is pushing out frantic words. “I need you. We need you . . .” I trail off.
“Where are you?” Now he’s frantic too.
“Miss,” a paramedic calls. “Were you the driver in that car?” he points to the Storm.
I nod.
“We’re going to have to examine you.”
I nod again and hand him my phone; I’m unable to say anything else, but he talks for me.
We need Jasper.
We need him.
We do.
A blur passes. The paramedics examine me. I’m fine. The police question me. I tell them what happened. The rain continues to fall at a punishing pace, slipping down the umbrella I’m holding and to the ground. My ballet flats are soaked. My jeans and top too. Although, I barely feel the uncomfortableness of it all.
Slowly, things are starting to seem less hazy.
Soon enough, I wrap my arms around myself.
My teeth are chattering. I’m wet. None of that matters.
I crashed Jasper’s car.
I’m holding a document that reeks of corruption.
I’m pregnant.
“Charlotte!” I hear his voice.
Quickly, I turn and suddenly my tears mix with the tiny raindrops blowing against my face.
Lightning.
Thunder.
Jasper.
Footsteps are pounding in the puddles of water. Fast. Faster still.
“Jasper,” I whisper.
He’s got my upper arms. “Charlotte! Are you hurt?”
My heart is about to drop in my chest. “No, I’m fine, but I’m so sorry about your car.”
“I don’t give a shit about the car. What happened? You sure you are okay?” His lips are moving. His eyes are wide. The look on his face frantic.
I nod again, answering yes to whatever he just said because it seems like a good answer.
“You need to get out of the rain,” he says and then he’s dragging me to the sidewalk and into an office building with a vast lobby.
I drop the umbrella.
He grasps at my arms again and pulls back to look at me, head to toe, but not in a sexual way. He’s making sure I’m not harmed, protecting me like he always has.
Always will.
Even in the midst of the chaos, the storm taking place outside, the accident I caused, I can’t go another minute without telling him. I stare into his eyes, at his soft lips, his furrowed brow. And then, I take a step forward and lean into his ear, my voice low, and whisper the words I should have five days ago. “Jasper, I’m pregnant. I found out on Friday and haven’t been able to figure out how to tell you. No, that’s not true, I’ve been afraid to tell you.”
He exhales suddenly, shaky, uneven. Swallows hard. His eyes are burning into mine. His pulse is beating so fast I can’t distinguish it from my own.
Fear. Anxiety. They flow through my veins. He’s frozen in front of me. I don’t think he’s breathing. In the state he’s in, I’m not so sure he’s not going to turn around and leave me here. Alone.
His hands relax. His eyes quiet down. He stares at me for so long I start to tremble, and then he blinks as if what I said finally registers. In that moment—his lips form a small smile. “You’re pregnant?”
I nod, wondering if the shock is too much for him.
“As in we’re going to have a baby? You and me?”
I nod again.
His smile grows wider and he lets out a little huff of laughter.
“Why is this funny?”
He shakes his head. Just a bit. Then lifts me off my feet and twirls me around like everything is perfect in our lives. “We’re having a baby!” he shouts, no concern at all for where we are or his completely crushed car just feet away.
If I have ever smiled before in my life, it’s never been as big it is right now.
Setting my feet back on the ground, he holds me in place, with his hands and his eyes. The pull between us is so strong I can almost feel his heart beating against my body. I can almost feel his lips breathing against mine. And I can almost taste him on my tongue.
Almost.
I part my lips. Move my tongue. Talk. “Are you sure you’re okay with this?”
Jasper leans his forehead against mine. “More than okay.” His voice is dangerously husky and his words tingle on my skin.
His answer makes me dizzy in the most delicious way. Because my body needs his, I allow my hands to clutch his wet shirt. My fingers trace the perfectly sculpted lines of his body. Feel his lean muscle. Rely on his strong frame for support.
As unexpected as his response to the news, is what comes next. He drops to his knees. Kisses my stomach. Holds me. And holds me. And holds me like this.
My body is a stick of butter and I am melting in his embrace.
Slowly rising to his feet, he takes me in his arms, kisses me, and whispers, “I love you, Charlotte Lane, and I want to get married as soon as possible.”
My eyes are filling with tears and I’m blinking them back. “You don’t have to feel obligated to do that, Jasper.”
Softly, he pushes the wet hair from my face. “How many times do I have to tell you I don’t do anything I don’t want to do?” he says, and then he smiles at me with that smile that brings back every moment we’ve ever shared.
I draw in a breath, clear my throat, and push him away. “Well, Jasper Storm, that wasn’t very romantic then.” The smile on my face is all he needs to know I’m teasing him.
He tugs me back to him. “Give a guy a chance, will you? I haven’t asked you yet.”
“Good, because I haven’t said yes.”
His smile fades. “You’re going to? Aren’t you?”
I shrug. “You’ll have to wait and see.”
“Keep it up,” he grins.
And then he kisses me again.
He lets his kiss tell me everything.
How much he loves me.
How much he needs me.
Maybe even that I’m his world.
A throat clearing has me twisting around. Behind me standing are Will, Whitney, Jake, Shannon, Drew, and Mrs. Storm. I turn back to Jasper. “How . . . why . . .” I can’t even get the words out, my throat is so clogged with emotion.
“Everyone was worried about you,” he tells me, and then he tells everyone right here in the lobby of I don’t know where, “We’re getting married, oh, and we’re having a baby too.”
Mrs. Storm slaps her hand to her mouth and rushes for us. And everyone else gathers. Among the well wishes and tears, it’s Will who draws us back to reality. “What happened?” he asks me.
By now we’ve migrated over to a group of chairs in this investment banking building. I tell him what happened.
He and Jasper share a look.
“What is it?” I ask.
“My car has the new front radar sensor that Max designed and installed. It not only senses an object’s closeness and adjusts the braking power, but it monitors the brakes too. What just happened to you couldn’t have possibly happened unless someone disabled the device.”
“Hank or Alex,” Will whispers.
The revelation is astounding. Jasper stands and runs for the door.
I stand up to rush after him.
“Give him a minute.” Jake’s voice stops me.
Shannon stands. �
��Charlotte, I know you said you are fine, but I really think we should go to the hospital just as a precaution because of the baby.”
I nod, my eyes on Jasper. Outside he raises his hands above his head and paces in the rain.
“I’m going to arrange to have the Storm towed to Craig’s garage so we can take a look at it,” Will informs the group, and then he turns to Whitney. “Can you go with Mrs. Storm to the loft and see if you can get the computer or phone to take a charge?”
I look toward Will in question, but Mrs. Storm answers. “I guess Jasper and Will were on their way to Alex’s office when I called Jasper to tell him I’d found something strange. I was out in the meadow trying to pick the last of my flowers before the storm destroyed them when I noticed the water had deeply eroded a section of dirt. With my pruning shears, I pushed at it, and found a computer and phone buried there.”
“Eve’s computer?”
She shrugs. “I don’t know. It wouldn’t turn on and neither would the phone.”
Jasper comes striding back, slow and unsteady.
“Are you okay?” I ask.
He drops his head. “No, whatever is going on, that accident was meant for me, not you, and because of me you could have almost . . . fuck, I can’t even say it.”
I caress my hand against his cheek. “No, Jasper. Don’t even think that way,” I say and then I remember why I ended up here. I find my purse and pull out the report. “Look, my mother was right.” I waive the report. “This is why I left the loft. I was going to show it to Detective Hill to see if he can help us.”
All sets of eyes snap to the word, ARSON.
Whitney is the first to speak. “Jasper, I think you really need to consider how far you want to take this.”
Jasper’s entire body is shaking with tension, but his voice is strong when he answers. “I want to destroy the Harpers.”
TURN THE KEY
Jasper
WHEN THE FORMER Detroit mayor was found guilty in a major public corruption case, many hoped the guilty verdict meant a new day had arrived for the city facing bankruptcy—one where corruption would no longer be tolerated at City Hall.
We all wanted to believe that with Alex Harper in place, the nod-and-a-wink justice days of Detroit would be long gone.
It isn’t true.
My decision on what to do with this knowledge isn’t easy.
My need for vengeance is only tempered by my need to get this city on its feet. Pent-up aggression and anger makes me want to take both Alex and Hank down. It has become clear to all of us that one of the Harpers almost killed me three years ago and then almost killed Charlotte today, and my baby as well.
The only possible reason—greed.
Why? Did Hank want to hold onto his monopoly so badly he’d do anything? Did Alex know his father was corrupt and want to cover it up? Sadly, the answer has to be yes.
The question is which Harper killed Eve and Tory?
Either.
Both.
Who the fuck knows.
Yet, I know for certain, it was Hank who arranged to incapacitate the plant, and whatever he did didn’t just incapacitate the place, it annihilated it, by resulting in a deadly explosion. That there is no doubt.
Still, dragging Detroit through the torment of the explosion all over again would not help me in my end goal, which is why I have decided to leave it alone. Let what happened twenty years ago stay buried in the files of City Hall and in the minds of those who were corruptly involved.
The rain has let up and the afternoon sun is warm on my face. I’m in my mother’s car, zooming down the highway. Alex left the office early to meet his wife in Gross Pointe for the town’s annual sidewalk chalk fundraiser.
I’m heading there now.
Taking a left, I turn and slam right into the congested part of the city. I quickly change, lanes wishing I had my own car because every time I accelerate this little putt-putt car goes nowhere. Exiting the highway, I see a steady line of automobiles heading toward the quaint Gross Pointe downtown area.
Turning around, I take a few side streets to get there faster. Once I’m there, I ease off toward the municipality area. Maneuvering into a tight spot, I park my car on the street and watch as men in suits and women in dresses spill from their automobiles. They’re all engaged in their own conversations as they walk along the brick-paved sidewalks. Scanning the area, I spot the mayor’s podium and a chill creeps through me.
There was a time I wanted to be a part of the Harper family. Wanted it more than I wanted almost anything. I guess it’s lucky for me they never accepted me in that way.
I was always the poor boy looking in.
The outsider.
I sit in the car until I spot him. He stands front and center—smug, black suit, sunglasses, and a piece of chalk in his hand.
Always the showman.
Getting out of the car, I lean against the door and continue to watch. His wife and baby girl are by his side.
My jaw clenches. He almost killed what is mine. My fists ball and for a moment, I consider barreling over there and ending it all right now.
But I don’t.
Not for him, but for me.
Still, justice will be served.
The sound of his muffled voice courses through my body and lures me closer. From a distance I watch as people cheer him on. His speech is over quickly and everyone seems to disperse just as quickly. I take the opportunity to blend into the crowd and make my way toward Alex. His wife is a few feet away, and I wonder if she knows just how despicable he is.
Weaving through the crowd, I near the podium. Alex stands next to it, talking to a silver-haired woman in an animated conversation. As soon as I approach, he sees me. Alex excuses himself, and with a staggered gait that can only be for show, he walks over toward me with his hand extended. Through a forced smile he says, “Jasper, what are you doing here?”
“I want to talk to you.” There’s a calm control to my voice that I’m surprised by, considering I want to pound the shit out of him and bury him under this brick sidewalk.
He’s glaring at me through his sunglasses. “About the factory?” he asks. His blood pressure must be out of control because his face is turning beet red.
My eyes hold his. “Meet me in your office in one hour. Alone.”
“I can’t do that. My wife is expecting me to take her to dinner,” he responds, glancing toward her.
I glance in her direction too. “You can, and you will.”
Catching my drift, knowing I know all about his indiscretions, he puckers his brows. “What’s going on?”
I ball my fists at my sides. “You and I need to settle a few things.”
“What kind of things?”
“Old and new,” I tell him, anger coursing through my veins at an uncontrollable speed.
He works his jaw. “I’ll try to make it.”
Before walking away I sneer, “You better make it if you want to wake up tomorrow morning and still be mayor.”
Shocked silence is my response.
Hightailing it back to my car, I hop in feeling only slightly satisfied with how that went. There is still a chance that he might not show. Then I will be forced to do what I don’t want to do.
For a moment I consider confronting Hank. But I know that will get me nowhere but in a fuck load of trouble—I just might kill him. The man who pretended to care about me is someone I don’t need to see to resolve this issue.
Rush hour is in full swing as I approach the city again. With one hand I grip the wheel, and with the other I call Charlotte.
“Jasper,” she answers hastily. She’s nervous about what I’m about to do.
“Hey,” I whisper. “How’s my baby?”
“Are you asking about me or our child?”
“Both. I guess I need to say babies.”
She giggles.
This is all new. I’m still trying to digest it. It’s scary as hell, but it’s real, and I’m ready to try to do thi
s. “Are you resting like the doctor said?”
She sighs. “Do you think with the army surrounding me I have a choice?”
I laugh. I did leave her in good hands.
“Toss your card,” I hear Jake demand.
“Ahhh . . . Jake’s got you playing poker.”
“Yep, and your mother is cooking chicken and dumplings.”
My mother is trying really hard to be supportive. I think I may have been harder on her all these years than I should have been. I’m working on easing up on that, especially with all the Hank bullshit that is being thrown at her right now. Taking the downtown exit, I veer left and try to stay focused on the matter at hand. “Was Whitney able to get anything off the computer or phone?”
“No. She’s says too much moisture has gotten into both devices. We’ll never know what was on them. What about you?”
“I’m on my way to City Hall.”
“Please be careful.”
“For you, and our baby, I won’t take any unnecessary chances.”
“Promise?”
“I’ll do one better and pull out the good old pinky swear.”
She laughs. “I love you.”
“I love you too; I’ll call you on my way home.”
Concentrating on what I’m doing, I push on the gas and cruise down the road. Soon enough, I’m pulling into the underground garage, which I never park in.
At this time of day it is empty. As is the staircase, the reception desk, and the hallways. Breezing through security, I head toward the mayor’s office.
My nerves start to pop and my legs seem to be shaking.
What the hell am I nervous about?
Stepping into the elevator, all I can think is—keep your poker face on, mean what you say, and own it. The door closes and I shut my eyes. The doors open and I’m not even paying attention until the bell dings. I snap my eyes open and hustle out of there—game on.
My fingertips tap the dark wood of the reception desk and a cute red-headed woman smiles at me. “Mr. Storm, the mayor is expecting you. Let me show you in.”
If I know Alex, she works late for his benefit.
Eagerly, she twists the knob to his door and holds it open for me to enter. I walk into his over-the-top office—a huge mahogany desk, floor-to-ceiling glass windows with a view, a large-screen TV on a red wall, an oriental rug with a large leather sofa on top of it. Very over the top for a city-held office.