If he didn’t know better, Jasper would say Ten was trying to help him out.
How peculiar.
“Seriously, you’re lecturin’ me on feelings? You ain’t got any to speak of.”
“Sure, I do.”
“Like what?”
Ten deliberated a moment. “Pleasure.”
He gulped. “Like when you kill someone?” A slow nod. “And when I eat cake.”
Jasper didn’t even know what to do with the information. And how in the world did those two things prompt the same emotional reaction?
“Want my advice?”
“No.” Jasper pulled out of the parking space and took off for Ten’s place once more.
“Well, you’re gettin’ it anyway. Jasper Tan isn’t who you are anymore. Bury him and move on. It’s hard at first, but you’ll adjust.”
Was Ten speaking from experience?
They knew next to nothing about the man. Even Vick, mistress of the internet, hadn’t been able to dig up much of anything.
So, either Ten excelled at hiding the bodies, both literally and figuratively, or there’d been nothing to cover up in the first place. Frankly, Jasper bet it was option number one.
He and Vick liked to play a twisted game about Ten, suggesting wild theories about his past and where he’d come from. Vick thought he might be a cyborg, like the Terminator. While Jasper theorized he was a Jason Bourne type.
“Ten, were you someone else before… this?”
He tilted his head to the side. “Perhaps.”
“Who?”
A dark smile was his only reply.
Chapter Twelve
Later in the evening, when Vick walked in her front door, she found Jack swaying on unsteady feet, as though he stood in the ocean and rolled with the incoming waves. His eyes were red-rimmed, and he clung to the wall for support.
“Hiya, Vick.” He snickered as though he’d made a funny joke.
“We agreed you wouldn’t do drugs under my roof.”
The stab of disappointment was only a dull ache this time. Holding out hope for his recovery exhausted her. Jack hadn’t even made it a few hours without using again. The money she’d poured into his treatment had been for nothing. Again.
“I didn’t. I’m soooo sober.” His words were garbled, and he gave a vague, blissful smile.
“Don’t even bother.” Vick didn’t feel like pretending anymore. She might not be one hundred percent finished, but Vick had gotten darn near close.
“I need to lie down. Is it cool if we talk later?” He jerked a thumb at the spare bedroom.
“No, it isn’t cool Jack.” Her fingers curled into fists, and her arms shook. She wanted to scream at him.
Aren’t you sick of living this way? Don’t you want anythin’ besides heroin? A home? A career? Peace of mind? Do you have any clue what I sacrificed to help you?
Hollering would be useless. Tomorrow morning, he probably wouldn’t even remember this conversation.
“I’m sorry, Vick, I don’t mean to screw up.”
“Yeah, I know. Round and round again we go.” And where we stop, I already know.
“I’m gonna try hard this time. I’m gonna get well.”
“Yeah, sure.”
Vick didn’t know what to believe anymore. Was he telling her what he thought she wanted to hear? Or did he want to get clean and sober, then lapsed into using again because he couldn’t resist temptation?
Vick wished she could kick him out of the house tonight. God only knows what might happen to him in this state. Although Jack didn’t care about his own personal safety, why should she?
Addiction was a disease. She’d read all the literature, but it didn’t help. Maybe because she’d always been the one who cleaned up his messes, bailed him out of jail, and got him into treatment.
Vick resented his helplessness. Yet, she’d created it, by always helping him out of a jam. She’d never let the consequences of his actions play out. Maybe she’d inadvertently taught him to depend on her to solve his problems. He never tried to take care of the mess he’d made on his own. It’s no wonder he continued making the same mistakes.
“Please, can I stay? Tomorrow I’ll—”
“Whatever.” Vick cut him off. She couldn’t bear to hear any more promises he’d only break. “You’re out first thing in the mornin’. Go back to the facility or find some other place to stay.”
Jack’s eyes welled with tears. “Vick, I’m sorry. I let you down.” He raised his brows, waiting for her lines.
They’d rehearsed this scene repeatedly. She was supposed to rush into his arms, hug him, and tell him everything would be okay, but this time, she couldn’t do it.
Vick saw those crocodile tears for what they were—a manipulation. He’d been working her for years, and she’d let him get away with it.
“Yeah, you did, but I’ve gotta go.” Vick grabbed her purse and walked out the front door. What she needed right now was some wine and girl talk.
***
Vick arrived at Poison Fruit, the local winery, right on time. Ten owned the place, and a lot of the Lone Star Mafia members patronized the bistro attached to the winery.
The building sat on the edge of town, on five acres which hugged the edge of the creek. As she pulled into the drive, Vick passed hundreds of fruit trees—apples, peaches, and pears—and strawberry and blackberry patches. All the vineyard fruits were utilized in the process.
A rustic red barn had been converted into the eatery portion. The structure still had the high rafters and wood, but it’d been remodeled inside. In the center of the dining room, a brick well-like structure surrounded a large apple tree. The branches stretched up to the stained-glass windows above, which depicted Eve and the apple, along with a slithering serpent. Twinkling Christmas lights lined the walls, and tea lights on the tables gave the room a warm glow.
Vick perused the wine menu. The wines had deadly names—Toxin, Venom, and Nightshade, among others. It gave the name Poison Fruit a forbidding connotation, which suited Ten’s gallows humor.
Eventually, Jane and Belle joined her for dinner.
“Thanks for callin’. I needed a night out. So, what’s going on with the boys?” Belle asked. “Dix has been even more secretive than usual.”
“You know I can’t discuss it.”
“Of course, you can,” Jane said, ever the stickler for details. “But you won’t, which is an entirely different matter.”
As a rule, the outfit didn’t involve significant others in their plots. Yet Jane and Belle pressed her for details at every turn.
“Come on. You’re the only girl in their he-man club. We should stick together.”
Vick took a long sip of wine, as she stalled for time. FBI involvement was a huge problem, but she couldn’t tell them anything about it. Any information Belle and Jane discovered would place them in more danger.
“Sorry, I can’t help you.”
“So, there is something to discuss.” Jane’s eyes narrowed. “I’m assuming the authorities are involved?”
She’d been a shrewd defense attorney before she’d taken a job at the Innocence Project. Now, she used her legal abilities to help people who’d been railroaded by the system. Belle was a therapist, and she had a knack for getting folks to open up and share their troubles.
In short, I’m so screwed. Maybe this is a bad idea.
“Have I ever clued you in?” They shook their heads. “And I won’t be offerin’ up info tonight either. You aren’t part of the outfit.” Besides, if she let anything slip, Dix and Byron would have her hide and probably tack it to the wall as a trophy. “Let’s talk about somethin’ else. Anythin’ else actually.”
She turned to Belle. “How’s your job?”
“Excellent. I’m still building up my client base, and word of mouth is spreading. I’m becoming one of their most requested counselors.”
“She’d taken a family therapist position at Aransas Behavioral Health a few months ago. W
hen Vick had first met Belle, she’d been in dire straits—unemployed, down to her last nickel, and then Dix had offered her a “position” as his mistress.
Their relationship bothered Vick at first. It’d been a knee-jerk reaction from her escort days. She’d been upset with Dix buying her affections. Up until that point, Dix had been seeing a series of floozies who’d been more interested in his wallet than him. Vick thought he’d had a shot at something more with Belle, and he was ruining it. Ultimately, it’d worked out, and she’d loved giving Dix a richly deserved “I told you so.”
“Congrats on the job and on your recent engagement.” It’d been a while since they’d spent time together.
“Thank you.” Belle beamed. “Dix took me on a romantic getaway to New York City for the weekend. We did some shopping, and went to see Chicago.” Belle was a theater buff. “And then he popped the question.” She held out her ring so they could admire it.
“Mine’s bigger.” Jane glanced down at her ginormous Tiffany engagement ring. Byron clearly believed in the “go big or go home” motto.
Belle nodded. “Yes, it is.”
Vick bit the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing.
“And how’s Brady?” Vick asked Jane.
Jane had adopted her friend’s daughter after the woman had been murdered by a serial killer named Oscar Valentine. Valentine had fallen in love with Jane and stalked her, going so far as to plant video cameras in her apartment.
Vick had gotten rid of them, and when she got back to her own home, Vick had combed through every inch of her apartment in a fit of paranoia. Simon hadn’t gone digital with his stalking yet, but it was a small relief.
“She’s fine and adjusting to the circumstances remarkably well, considering.”
“I’m glad to hear it.” Vick sympathized with Brady. Losing a parent was devastating at any age. Vick had been an adult when her mother died, but it’d been overwhelming nonetheless.
“How’s your brother doing?” Belle asked.
When she’d gotten Jack into treatment this last time, Vick had asked Belle for some advice. While Belle was a family therapist, she had colleagues who were addiction specialists, and they’d recommended Brighton Place to her.
“Not so hot.” Then she told them about his relapse.
“I’m sorry.” Belle squeezed her hand. “These things take time.”
“I know.” But Vick didn’t think she even had another hour to spare on Jack.
Jane frowned. “Statistically speaking, it’s unlikely. People with severe drug problems often spiral out of control. They don’t get better until they reach rock bottom, or they end up overdosing and—”
“Thanks, Jane,” Belle said, cutting her off. “Let’s try to stay positive, right?”
“Sorry. Was I rude?” Jane tended to be blunt.
It wasn’t her fault really. From what Vick gathered, Jane had been diagnosed with Asperger’s as a child. She struggled with interpersonal skills, but Vick appreciated her honesty, even if it could be harsh.
“No, you were realistic.” Vick heaved a sigh. “I’m aware this ends one of two ways. Either Jack gets better, or it won’t matter anymore because he won’t be, er, here.”
It hurt to say the words, but she knew them to be true. He’d chosen a risky path, and she couldn’t pull him off it. Jack alone had the power to change his future.
Vick finished the rest of her wine in a big swallow. Things were pretty bleak in her world right now. Her brother was spiraling out of control, Simon hadn’t given up the chase, and she hadn’t smoothed things over with Jasper yet.
“Okay, let’s change the subject to something less heavy. How’s Jasper?” Belle asked.
Ugh. Another awkward topic.
“Fine.” Her chest tightened as she thought about the kiss. It’d been wonderful, everything she’d ever wanted. And then the dreaded “mistake” comment. Ugh.
Belle leaned forward. “Not according to your body language.”
“Are you having a romantic relationship with him?” Jane asked.
“Nope.”
Belle coughed and it sounded remarkably like she’d said “bullshit.”
What am I gonna do with these people? They were practically throwing her at Jasper.
“Y’all need to find another hobby.”
“Byron seems to think so, although he said you’ve been dating a biker. Justice, I believe. Given the Four Horsemen’s disdain for all of you, I think this venture is doomed to failure. How long have you been seeing Justice?” Jane squinted.
At one time, Jane had been the Four Horsemen MC’s legal advocate. Sometimes, like now, Jane made a person feel like she was being cross-examined. Between her probing questions and Belle’s insights, Vick thought this night was a bust.
“I plead the fifth.”
“You haven’t been charged with anything. Yet.” Jane didn’t so much as crack a smile.
“Okay, let’s find another new topic.” Vick refilled her glass of wine.
“You’re the one who wouldn’t dish about work.” Belle chuckled. “And, hey, we can’t help it. Small towns are notorious for gossip.”
“She’s right.” Jane nodded. “Since I’ve moved to Hell, I’ve become much more interested in other people’s social lives. This town’s a bit like a soap opera.”
“And you happen to have the juiciest storyline at the moment,” Belle said. “We’ve all taken a turn.”
Tell me about it. And tomorrow, she’d start a fake relationship with Justice.
All that’s missing is a coma and a racy love scene.
***
“What’s your deal?”
“Which deal?” Jasper glanced at Mary.
Seeing Grace always put him in a funk. No matter how much time he spent with her, Jasper wanted more. He had to fix this rift with his family.
Now that he was older and a bit wiser, Jasper wished he’d handled it all differently. Instead of storming into his father’s office and announcing his resignation, he should’ve shared his misgivings about the job and his future.
At the time, he’d been a nineteen-year-old know-it-all, unhappy with his lot in life. In retrospect, the management job had been an excellent opportunity, for someone else. Jasper wanted to take a different path.
“You look all dejected.” Mary kicked off her shoes and then helped herself to a Sprite from the fridge. Then she grabbed a mixing bowl and a whisk from the cupboard.
When he’d moved into this place, Mary had insisted on helping. They’d spent hours unpacking all his crap, so she knew the layout, as well as Jasper did.
“Yeah, well, I’ve had a crappy couple of days.” Jasper lit a burner on the stove and pulled out a cast iron frying pan. He added oil to it.
“Wanna talk about it?”
“Well, I visited my sister to celebrate her birthday.” He tossed pancake mix into the bowl, along with cinnamon, bananas, milk, and eggs.
Jasper had been making the dish for years. It was one of their favorite meals. When he’d worked as Mary’s guard, they’d had dinner together most evenings. Jasper hadn’t minded one bit. He’d been lonely, and Mary had been a welcome distraction.
Unlike his relationship with Vixen, this one had been smooth and uncomplicated. Nothing but joy.
“It doesn’t sound so bad. I know how much you miss Grace.” Mary grabbed two plates and forks, along with the syrup, and butter.
“Oh yeah? Ten came with me.”
She busted out laughing, then got a hold of herself.
“Right. I’m sorry. And how’d it go?”
“Takin’ Ten anywhere is a bit like showin’ up with the Grim Reaper.”
“Talk about a mood killer.” She winced. “Yikes, I’m sorry.” Mary giggled. “Although, I don’t know. When you think about it, he’s kinda like a cat lady.”
“Yeah, a scary ass one.”
Jasper didn’t elaborate since Mary didn’t need to know all the things Ten had done. She had good instincts
, though. Somehow, she sensed there was something wrong with him. All too often, people ignored their intuition, which could be a fatal mistake.
“Yeah, I still can’t imagine why Grandad hired him.”
I know why. Because he’s a killin’ machine.
Jasper kept it together. “Well, he wants to be my friend.”
“Too bad. He’s in line behind Vick and me, of course.”
“Of course.” Jasper made a show of vigorous whisking. Not gonna talk about Vixen. “He’s taken a notion that he needs to ‘expand his horizons.'”
“What in the world…? Does that mean he’s gonna try to act less like a robot?”
“No clue, but it don’t sound right.” Maybe I’m gonna help him put bodies under the floorboards.
“I wouldn’t, if I were you. Put some distance between you.”
“Yeah, like I gotta choice in this.”
“You could say no.”
Any ideas how I break up with a psychopath? Instead, Jasper settled for fixing her with a disgruntled look.
She scrunched up her nose. “Hmm, fair point. Well, I wish you and your new bestie good luck.”
“Gee, thanks.”
“So, how come you aren’t with Vick tonight instead of me?” Mary asked, leaning over the breakfast bar with wide open, deceptively innocent eyes.
“Don’t start.” Jasper turned his back on her and poured a quarter-sized pool of batter into the pan.
“Start what?”
“You know what.”
“When you said hang out, I think you meant hideout.”
Maybe she had a point. “Things are complicated with Vick and me.”
“I’ll say. It’s the subject of much debate.”
He whipped around. “People talk about us?” Jasper knew about Dix’s setup, but other people were getting involved, too?
“Uh, yeah, everybody. Duh. It’s the worst kept secret in town.”
Fuck it all. “Me and Vixen are real complicated, Mary.”
“Actually, I’m thinkin’ it's real simple. You like her, she likes you.” Mary dusted her hands off. “See? Easy as peach pie.”
Blood Money (Lone Star Mobster Book 3) Page 10