He rubs me, grinding his teeth.
I lean in and mutter, “If you promise me one thing…”
His eyes flick to my lips. When I think he’s fallen for my spell, I kick his dick as hard as I possibly can and run towards the front door.
He groans trying to follow me when I look back. I pull his car keys out of my pocket as I race out of the place. I unlock the driver door and start the engine.
“Bitch!” I hear him shout.
To be a mega bitch, I roll down the passenger window and flip him off as I drive away.
I watch him get smaller in the rearview mirror and almost laugh. I got him good, and I’ll keep my promise that he won’t touch me ever again.
“Jasper,” I say into my phone when he picks up on the second ring. “Jasp, I need your help. A big-time dealer is after me. Axel got caught up in his mess, and I tried to save him, but everything’s fucked right now. I stole his car and––”
“Hello to you too, Lexi.” There’s amusement in his voice. “Long time no talk. Seems like you didn’t get the quiet life you planned for after all.”
I exhale, pressing the gas pedal harder. “I have enough gas to drive to you right now. Where are you?”
He chuckles. “Unfortunately I’m out of town. How bad is it?”
“Bad,” I say. “Really bad. I need you.”
“I have a friend who has a friend. He can help you out.”
“What? No––”
“You called me, Lex. You take the help. When he answers, tell him exactly what you told me.”
“Jasper! Jasper! Wait!”
The line starts ringing. Shit, I think he’s three-way calling right now.
“Jasper, please!” I stutter. Shit, I need it to be him. I could always count on him no matter what.
The line stops ringing and a deep voice comes over the line. “Crying out for Jasper isn’t going to––”
“Jasper?” I keep calling out. I glance at the phone. Fuck, he ended the call and now I’m on the phone with someone I don’t know.
“Who am I talking to?” the deep voice asks.
My gut sinks. “Hi, uh. I’m Lexi.”
The line is quiet for a few moments.
“Lexi,” he says, “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
23
Revan
I’m leaning against the concrete wall, arms crossed, watching Brody work. He’s got the witness strung up by chains, wrists bound above his head, toes barely scraping the floor. The guy’s face is already a mess—nose broken, eye swollen shut, blood dripping from his split lip onto the drain below.
“I didn’t see nothing,” the witness whimpers for the tenth time.
Brody cracks his knuckles. “That’s what I like to hear. But let’s make sure your memory stays that way.”
My phone buzzes in my pocket. I pull it out, ready to decline, but the name makes me pause.
