No. I wouldn’t, lest this whole town echo with I knew that Jacob Hall wasn’t a good man.
The problem, of course? The problem was I already knew I wasn’t a good man, but for others to think that I’d done inappropriate things with a seventeen-year-old girl who’d just survived five years of kidnapping was another story. I was a bad man, but I wasn’t that type of bad. There were different levels of evil in the world.
“Move,” I told her, meeting her defiant stare. In that moment, she hardly looked like an eighteen-year-old. The way she glared at me, she could easily pass for someone older. The way her cheekbones were pronounced, smooth and slender in every way, she held no traces of the typical cherub innocence teenage faces usually did.
“No,” she said, boldly holding my stare, “not until you hear me out.”
“I’ll drive off with the door open,” I warned her, one hundred percent serious. Anything to get her away. Away from me, away from my car…mostly away from me. The more I looked at her, the prettier she became.
Fucking terrible thoughts.
“Fine,” she said, sounding like she was pouting.
I thought she meant fine as in she was going to give up and leave, let me be, allow me to drive off and pretend like this meeting never happened, forget her face in its entirety, but I was wrong. So, so fucking wrong I could do nothing but sit there in shock at what she did next.
She hoisted herself up and crawled over me to get to the passenger seat, knocking her bag against my head as she went.
I held in a grimace at the feeling of hard textbooks slamming against my temple, turning my head to the side—away from her—and wondered just what the fuck kind of joke this was. Some kind of cosmic let’s all laugh at Jacob moment? I might’ve had patience before, but after these last few years…I didn’t anymore.
“All right,” she said, dropping her bag between her knees and reaching for the seatbelt. “Let’s go. Wherever it was you’re running off to—”
“You could’ve just crawled into the car of a serial killer,” I told her, slowly turning my head to look at her. The cool air from outside blew in; I refused to shut it on principle. The moment I closed that door would be the moment my willpower crumbled and I accepted whatever job she had.
Money was money, after all…
No. I didn’t work with kids, and I meant it.
“Are you?” she asked. “No? Then okay, I think I’m good right here.” She buckled her seatbelt, obstinate to the fucking extreme. “I need your help.”
And I needed eight hundred dollars by Friday to make rent.
I squeezed my eyes shut and pinched the bridge of my nose. I really didn’t want to entertain the idea of working for this girl, but when faced with no other options, what the fuck else was I supposed to do?
After sighing yet again—I had the feeling I’d be doing a lot more sighing after I said what I was about to say next—I looked at her hard and said, “A thousand dollars, and I’ll help you with whatever you need.” I hated saying it, but I needed the cash, and if this girl was serious about hiring me, she had to fork it over and pay for it.
Desperate. I was fucking desperate, and I hated myself for it.
Hmm. Maybe it was time to leave Midpark. Clearly, this place hadn’t done me any favors, and it didn’t look like it would let up anytime soon.
Marie’s eyes widened—and here I thought they couldn’t get bigger. The eyes gave her an innocent, naive quality, but the rest of her was too flawless to belong to an eighteen-year-old. “I don’t have a thousand with me.”
“Then get it, and meet me back here on Thursday.” I reached for my door, yanking it shut, slamming it. Glaring at her, I added, “Unless you’ve changed your mind and no longer need my help?” I had no idea what this girl needed my help with, but it would at least pay my rent for this month.
The other two hundred? Food, because you needed that shit to survive.
Her jaw set, and she stared at me with defiance in her gaze. “I’ll get it.” She said nothing else as she unbuckled her seatbelt and got out, slinging her bag over her shoulder as she moved toward the diner, getting off the parking lot.
With one hand on the shifter, I stared at her for a bit too long before putting the car in reverse and driving away.
She was just a means to an end, I told myself as I drove back to my apartment. If she belonged to one of the rich families around here, a thousand was just a weekly allowance. She’d be able to get it, and I’d make my rent. At least for now. What the future held in store for me was anyone’s guess.
I let out a groan as I went up to my place. I’d installed new locks after my place was broken into—though I supposed they weren’t new anymore, but still. Multiple deadbolts, each with different keys. I figured by the time it would take someone to unlock them all, someone else would come strolling down the hallway and see them.
Even after all this time, I still didn’t know how those devilish twins had gotten so good at what they did, but it was a moot point now. None of it mattered. They were gone and I was here, somehow.
Somehow still here.
The story of my fucking life, really.
I pushed inside, and after I locked each and every lock, I tossed my keyring onto the counter in the kitchen. As I walked down the hall, I slipped off my shoes and worked to take off my jacket, tossing it into my bedroom. I went into the bathroom and closed the door, instantly gripping the vanity’s counter as I stared at myself in the mirror.
I looked like shit, I thought. My face looked more haggard than I remembered it being, but maybe it was just this place. Me, trying to make it here when I should’ve walked away all those years ago. Why didn’t I? What made me stick around?
The truth…the truth was nowhere as pretty as the rest of Midpark was.
I pushed off the counter, starting to unbutton my shirt. I had to turn away from my reflection when my shirt opened to reveal my torso, or more specifically, the one part of it I never wanted to look at. The part of me that reminded me of my mistakes, my lies.
The only time I let myself think of what I did was when I was in the shower, when I had the water pelting my back and washing away the day’s filth. Even then, it was too much, for I shouldn’t think of it at all.
My feet brought me over the tub’s edge, and I pulled the curtain closed before starting the water.
Underneath it all, I was just as scarred as the next person, just as battle-hardened. I used to be a better person, but that was before Zane, Thorn, and Celeste. Before I lost my job—the one thing I’d wanted growing up.
Almost absentmindedly, I touched my lower abdomen. Where sculpted muscle sat, scarred flesh was also.
Hell. Even back then, when I was just a cop trying to do his best when given such a high-profile case, I was a liar. I just used to hide it better.
One day at a time. That’s how I had to take this. Relax, cool off, simultaneously hope and pray that girl both got the money and didn’t. If she didn’t get the money, I’d figure something out.
I always did.
Chapter Thirteen – Jaz
One question that plagued my mind while I was walking home was: how the hell was I supposed to come up with a thousand big ones? It wasn’t like I was an heiress, a daughter of one of these Midpark families. I was an outsider, and being an outsider, I didn’t have cash overflowing from my vagina. Nope. The only thing I had in my vagina was…
Well, let’s not get into that, because my thoughts would only lead to Archer. Maybe even Vaughn.
Heck, or maybe even that ex-cop…
Needless to say, my hormones had suddenly jumped into overdrive here, and I was so not here for it. The only thing I was here for was figuring out mysteries and deciding whether or not my mom and I were safe here.
It was dark by the time I arrived at the house, talked to the guard for him to open the gate for me, and walked up to the house. Ollie was home already—strangely—and Mom had just arranged our leftovers at the dining table
. Ollie had taken his meal up to his study, which he usually did.
Once Mom and I sat down beside each other, Mom gave me a smile. “How was the singing lesson?” Tonight’s dinner was some kind of meatloaf. My mom had never been much of a cooker before, but she’d turned into a regular chef after getting this job. Then again, she didn’t have anything else to do all day besides clean and do laundry, so. There was that.
“Great,” I said, hurrying to dig in and cut my slice of meat. And then I remembered: “I might have to meet with her more. Bobbi says I catch on fast, but I’m still not very good at reading sheet music.”
“You and Bobbi could always meet here,” Mom said, giving me a smile. She reached for a glass of water—she never drank, ever—and took a tiny sip. It felt almost weird to sit at such a long, expensive dining table with just the two of us, but I’d become somewhat used to it by now. “Bobbi is a girl, right?”
I rolled my eyes. “Yes, Mom.”
“Okay, good. You’re too young to date—”
At that I had to glare. “I’m eighteen. How old do you want me to be?” It’d been like this for years. Ever since I made the first mistake of commenting on a celebrity’s attractiveness on the TV in front of her when I was younger. Anyone with a penis was the devil in her eyes, and I wasn’t sure why.
I thought, at one point in my life, that maybe it was because of Dad. She never spoke about him, never even told me who the hell he was. On my birth certificate, he’s listed as unknown. But eighteen years was a long time for someone to hold a grudge, especially against every guy with a dick.
“Just…” My mom let out a sigh; it wasn’t the first time I’d made a comment like that, and it wouldn’t be the last. “Let’s just focus on you graduating, okay? Then we can talk about you dating.”
Wow. It was the twenty-first century and my mom seriously didn’t want me dating until sometime after high school graduation. I’d told Jacob I wasn’t a child, but sitting here and listening to her reason—and realizing how grim and solemn she was about it—made me think twice about that.
Did Mom think she could always control me? Technically I didn’t even have to live in this house anymore. Theoretically, I could go out, get a job, get my own place, do what I wanted. Date who I wanted.
Now was not the best time to think about hooking up with Archer, but the dick—I mean, the boy—did cross my mind.
I wouldn’t mind having a steady boyfriend. I wouldn’t mind going out on dates and acting like a real teenager. That, unfortunately, just wasn’t how my life was. Never was, never would be. It was something I’d faced a long time ago, but for whatever reason, it particularly stung painfully tonight.
Maybe because I was trying to be responsible and see past the bullshit everyone was feeding me.
“Whatever,” I muttered, not feeling too happy about it. “So I guess that means you don’t want me getting a job?” A job wouldn’t bring me a thousand dollars in four days, but it was something I could use to start funneling away money.
“A job?” Mom nearly dropped her silverware onto the floor. “What in the world has gotten into you?”
I paused for a moment to think up a lie. “I want new clothes.”
“Why? What’s wrong with the clothes you have?”
“I don’t fit in with everyone else at Midpark,” I whined, sounding exactly like an angsty teen would. “I stick out like a sore thumb.” Did people say that these days? Eh, well. I got my point across anyways.
My mom could not hide her shock—after all, never before had I ever said something like that. I never really cared about fitting in or being like everyone else. I knew I wasn’t, so I didn’t care. “Your clothes are fine.”
“No, they’re not,” I argued, but in the back of my head I was wondering just how the hell I was supposed to get a thousand freaking dollars by Thursday. It was a small price to pay to be assured that my mom and I were safe here…or confirmed that we weren’t. I loved my mom above all other things in this world, even if she occasionally made me want to pull my own hair out.
She was my mom. Moms tended to get that reaction from their kids every once in a while.
“You have no idea what it’s like,” I said, frowning, “going to a rich school, surrounded by people who have all of the newest phones and the in-style clothes.”
Mom blinked, giving me an unimpressed look. “You’ll be fine, Jaz. Suck it up.”
Well, that was probably that. This bone was a bone I’d never reach. Mom didn’t want me dating, didn’t want me to get a job…if I didn’t know any better, I’d say Mom didn’t want me to do anything in general. If she had her way, I’d still be living with her, date-less, as a thirty-year-old homebody.
Like, come on. Sooner or later all baby birds had to leave the nest, even if they crashed and failed at their attempt to fly.
Not saying I’d fail, but with the way Mom helicoptered around me, I hardly had any room to try.
We finished eating dinner in silence, and I spent the rest of the night in my room, doing homework. Midpark academics were indeed on another level than my old high school. I found it so strange that such things could vary from school to school, let alone state to state. But, regardless, I had to catch up, at least get Cs and Bs on everything. As were probably out of the picture here, what with everything else going on, but you never knew. Maybe I’d get lucky.
It was almost nine o’clock when I was done with all of my homework. My brain was still trying to think up a way I could get the cash by Thursday without stealing it from someone. Ollie had more than enough money to spare, but it wasn’t like I could go up to him and say pretty please. The man was my mom’s employer, so I couldn’t try to use him like that. Plus, it wasn’t like he owed me anything.
And, anyway, he’d probably ask what the money was for. What was I supposed to say then? Oh, I’m hiring a PI because I think you and every other person in this town is hiding something terrible from my mom and I. Yeah, somehow, I didn’t think he’d like that.
It wasn’t like I could ask anyone else. I hadn’t made any friends. Not really. Archer had been acting weird since we hooked up, so that guy was out. Vaughn’s family was clearly in some shady deal with Ollie, so I wasn’t sure if he’d even listen to me when I asked him for money. It was his idea to go with a PI, telling me the rich never got themselves dirty.
Seriously, I didn’t know anyone well enough to ask them to lend me a thousand bucks. Hell, even at my old school, I didn’t have friends like that.
But, maybe when it came to money, these people thought differently about it. Maybe a thousand bucks was like asking someone to buy you lunch. It was quite possible that it wasn’t a big deal, and I was just making it one because I was…well, me.
The least I could do, I supposed, was try.
The next morning in homeroom, before the morning announcements came on the loudspeakers, I leaned over to Archer. He actually wore a hoodie today, which I thought was kind of weird—but then I saw the athletic brand on the hoodie, and knew it wasn’t so weird. Seemed certain brands were universal with jocks.
Wait. Did that mean Archer was a jock? I’d seen his body, his muscles—among other things—so I knew he had to work out. For whatever reason, knowing that Archer was possibly a jock made me conflicted. It made me wonder if what we did was just a joke. Him trying to get with the new girl, the new girl spreading her legs like an eager beaver, him getting what he wanted and being done with me instantly.
I…I didn’t like the thought of that.
“Hey,” I whispered. The rest of the class was busy talking, as they usually did before the announcements, so I was reasonably sure they wouldn’t hear our conversation.
Archer turned those gorgeous baby blues on me, his expression unreadable. Either he was trying to give me the cold shoulder, or he was a hot and cold kind of guy. I wasn’t sure which one ticked me off more.
But enough about that.
“Let's say I need to make some quick cash,” I said
once I had his full attention. “How do I do that around here without throwing my morals out of the window?” Yeah, I was sure there was one way I could make a lot of money…but selling myself for cash just felt dirty. Not against anyone who did the same for a living, but that wasn’t me.
Neither was hooking up with someone I’d just met, but Archer proved me wrong on that.
God, I didn’t know whether I liked this boy or hated him.
“Don’t you live with Oliver Fitzpatrick?” Archer asked, frowning slightly. I’d like to say his handsome face didn’t look so good while frowning, but that would’ve been a lie. Archer looked good no matter what expression he wore—a frown, a dimpled grin, his orgasm face…yeah, especially that last one. “I’m sure you could ask your sugar daddy for some money.” His voice actually sounded bitter, as if he was upset at the thought of me and Ollie.
Which, just, no. Nope. No fucking way.
Come on. Sugar daddy?
I instantly started to fume. This had to be Brittany’s doing. This whole school probably knew I lived in the Fitzpatrick’s house, and they either knew my mom was his maid or thought that I was banging him. Gross. He was like fifty years old—that’s a tad too old for me.
“He’s not my sugar daddy,” I muttered, wondering if that was why Archer was so upset. Had Brittany started rumors about me last week? Had Archer stumbled upon them and, worse, believed them?
Oh, that bitch. It wasn’t like me to want to get into catfights, but Brittany was making it hard.
“Then what is he?” Archer asked, eyebrows furrowing. Personally, I couldn’t tell if the boy was literally jealous or if he was just grasping at straws, any reason to be upset with me, to push me away after what happened between us.
“He’s…he’s—” I stumbled over my words, not exactly wanting to admit that my mom was his maid, his cook, his housekeeper—that he was the only reason we had a roof over our heads in such a nice town. Mom and I never could’ve afforded an apartment in Midpark, let alone a big, fancy house.
Feisty: A High School Bully Romance (Midpark High Book 1) Page 10