Chapter 10

Jagger

By the time I get done explaining what a cluster fuck the trip to Oregon turned out to be, Dawson is pissed.

“So, you bring her here? What the hell were you thinking?”

I abandon the chicken, now stripped to the bone as my stomach rumbles noisily. “She won’t be here long, and I’ll be here too. Nothing will happen.”

He shakes his head. “I tell you he’s lonely, so you bring the woman with a death warrant on her head into his house? What is wrong with you?”

I run my hand over my face as I try to think about pacifying him. “Why don’t we go back in and see what dad says? It’s his house.”

Dawson’s eyes flash a warning. “This is completely unacceptable. And it’s just like that time you hooked up with that homeless girl in high school. You brought her home too.”

I frown at him. “She wasn’t homeless. Her dad was an asshole and her mom worked. She didn’t have anywhere else to go.”

He raises his hands. “Exactly. You’ve always had a soft spot for pretty women in trouble. Do us a fucking favor bro, and quit bringing them home!”

Without another word, he turns on his heel and heads back into the kitchen, leaving me to trail in after him.

When I step inside, neither Stella nor dad even acknowledge me and seem to be deep in a discussion they’ve been having a while.

And rather than looking uncomfortable, Stella is smiling, and her plate is empty.

“That’s why I watch British panel shows. No PC bullshit, no topics are off-limits. Just people mocking everyone and everything, including each other.”

Dad nods sagely and gestures to the door. “Come show me how this streaming thing works. I could use a laugh, and without the canned stuff added in.”

I smother a smile as Stella gets to her feet immediately and follows him out the door.

“You have anything to drink?” I hear her ask from the hallway.

Dad’s laugh is so loud Dawson’s face tightens. “Fuck. She’s as bad as he is.”

I send him a smug ‘I told you so look’ as he mutters into his dinner, and slowly shakes his head. “This can’t be good for him.”

“Oh, come on. When was the last time you saw dad smile let alone heard him laugh?”

His eyes shift from his meal to me. “The day you came back comes to mind.”

Guilt snaps in my mid-section as I shovel broccoli into my mouth. “Yeah well, I tried finding work here remember?”

He keeps eating, but I can feel him priming to aim a few guilt bullets at me. “So try harder. Start your own security firm.”

I scowl at him, wondering why he keeps circling back to that. “That takes money. And I don’t have enough for the start-up costs let alone employ anyone.”

“So, borrow it. At some point, I’d like a life that doesn’t revolve around dad. You know?”

I finish my dinner and push my plate away as he stares at me, looking more serious than I’ve seen him in a while.

“What happened? You meet someone?”

He takes his time answering before he nods. “A while back.”

I wince. “Shit. Why didn’t you tell me?”

He shrugs and toys with the water glass in front of him. “I didn’t know it was anything until she said she was thinking about leaving Seattle.”

I sit back in my chair, fighting exhaustion as the past few day’s events blur together in my mind.

Matt screwed me over, and at some point, I’ll have to deal with that, but it’s the last thing I care about now.

Dawson wants a life while Stella’s is in danger.

And I need to find a solution for both.

Fast.

***

Stella

I’m laughing at a lot of very distasteful jokes and drinking my second glass of some excellent whiskey when Jagger appears in the doorway.

He reaches down to pick up the remote, turns the volume down a fraction before he looks at his father, now fast asleep, on the La-Z-Boy.

A frown creases his face as he motions to the hallway. Reluctantly, I follow, stretching and hoping he’s not going to undo the effects of the whiskey.

But he’s more concerned about sleep than anything else. He keeps his voice low as he pulls the lounge door closed.

“Dawson says he sleeps in here a lot now. Can’t sleep in the room he shared with mom.”

I follow him down the hallway, wondering where Dawson has gone. It’s obvious he’s not happy about me being here, so I hover at the bottom of the stairs. “Maybe I should just stay in a hotel?”

Jagger sighs. “Because of Dawson? He’s got his own reasons for being pissy about this so don’t take it too personally. He’s been taking care of dad on his own since mom died. He thinks I should come home and share the load.”

My eyebrows rise. “I thought your mom died when you were both teens?”

He runs his hand over his face. “Yeah, she did. But I left for boot camp a year after she died, and dad’s sister, our aunt moved away a couple years ago, so he’s been trying to deal with dad on his own since then. He wants me to come home.”

I blow out a breath, feeling even more tired than I expected. “Why don’t you?”

He leans against the wall and shakes his head. “There isn’t a lot of work around here. Even if I could find something, maybe retrain, I’d probably still not be anywhere close.”

I cover a yawn, but Jagger notices and smiles. “Yeah. Me too. Been a long day. Go to bed. We’ll talk in the morning.”

I give him a feeble nod, too exhausted to do anything more than obey him, despite my curiosity at his possible idea.

“Where are you going to sleep?”

A smile quirks his lips. “The spare room. Down the hall from you.”

I’m too tired to even reply, I just heft myself up the stairs and find his old bedroom.

I pause in the doorway so I can take in what normal looks like one last time before I switch the lights out.

His entire bedroom is a living testament to his achievements, and where my childhood bedroom was sterile and unadorned, his walls are littered with memories that have made him the man he is today.

I sit on his bed, staring at a framed photo of him graduating high school, his brother, mom, and dad beaming with pride, and feel a solid lump growing in my throat.

These are good people. Nice people. And by staying here I’m endangering them all.

No longer sure I’ve done the right thing, I pull out my laptop, and using Glyphtech, a form of leetspeak known only to hackers, I send a message to the only person who can get me a new passport.

ᵻ₪ ꝉЯɵƱߣ€. ₪€€ↁ ₪€ꟺ ᵻↁ Ʌ₪ↁ Ʌ ꟺɅ¥ ɵƱꝉ ɵꟻ §ꝉɅꝉ€§ Ʌ§Ʌƿ

Since no one in the house can understand it anyway, I don’t bother to close my laptop, just leave it on the dresser as I pull my boots off and crawl into bed.

***

Jagger

Tuesday 5.18am

Despite my fatigue, I barely slept, more for thoughts battering me mercilessly all night than the fact I’m going to have to contact my unit commander and ask for an extension of my leave.

This entire trip home is a gigantic SNAFU. I should have known better than to take a job from Matt. I didn’t even need the money, and if I’d been here rather than Oregon, I would have had time to talk to Dawson about making arrangements for Dad.

But even if I regret trusting Matt, the thought that kept me awake half the night was knowing that if I hadn’t have gone, Stella wouldn’t have stood a chance.

Someone came for her at the motel, they knew she was there. And if she hadn’t have been with me in the reserve she’d have been dead and brutalized.

I scowl as I consider why the supposed ‘professional’ hunting her left her motel room a mess, effectively tipping her off.

That and every other damn question I have will have to wait until I’m fully conscious and capable of logical thought.

My head is screaming bloody murder, and I need a shower and caffeine before I can even think about talking to Stella about my bat-shit crazy idea.

I throw the covers off me and stumble, yawning into the bathroom. I flick the shower on and pull the door closed, so I don’t disturb either Stella or dad sleeping downstairs.

Dawson took off back to his apartment, so at least I don’t have to deal with him this morning.

I step under the water and blast my body with frigid water in the hopes it’ll wake me up.

When I’ve shocked my body into alertness, I switch the water to warm and wash away the previous day’s travel.

By the time I’m dressing in clean jeans and a shirt, I can hear movement down the hall.

I open the door a crack and find Stella heading my way, wearing only a t-shirt that barely covers her ass, and looking way too sexy considering we’re not alone.

I frown at her as I lean in the doorway. “I hope you’re planning on putting some clothes on before you head downstairs?”

She stops mid-yawn and follows my gaze. “Of course, I am. I just needed the bathroom,” she snaps.

Not sure if I should kiss her, or get out of her way, I do the latter and step into the hallway, trying not to stare at her long legs and the curve of her ass.

Shaking my head, I head downstairs, trying to be quiet as I walk past the living room and into the kitchen.

Since Dawson and I cleared up last night before I hit the sack, I load the coffee maker up and pull out some eggs and bacon from the refrigerator.

It’s still grey outside, and I’m more tired than hungry, so I leave everything on the counter, and wait for the coffee to do its thing, and for dad and Stella before I start cooking.

I sit at the table and tap my fingers as I calculate the time difference between Seattle and Malawi.

But my head is too scrambled, and the second Stella breezes in the door, hair wet, and looking exhausted, I know I’ve got a limited amount of time to talk to her before dad wakes up.

She eyes me, then the coffee machine before she slides a chair out and takes a seat. “You sleep okay?” I ask.

She shakes her head. “Not really. And you look like you didn’t either.”

I blow out a sigh. “I’ve been trying to come up with a workable solution.”

She gives me a wry smile. “So have I.”

I check dad isn’t lurking before I lower my voice. “I think I can help you.”

Her eyebrow raises. “You are helping me. My truck is in Oregon, and for anyone looking, I’m still at the reserve.”

I take a breath and can’t believe I’m even considering this. “I’m running out of time. I’ve been thinking all night and I—”

Any other woman would be happy for the assistance, but Stella just interrupts me. “I appreciate what you’ve done. But I can handle this myself.”

I wince. “How? You need help to leave the country.”

Her shoulders slump but she shakes her head. “Look, you bought me some time, and I’m grateful, but I can’t ask you to do any more than you already have.”

At the sound of dad coughing in the hallway, I know I’m out of time. “I’m not asking for your permission. If it’ll keep you safe permanently, I’ll do whatever it takes,” I say.

Her eyes drop and she stares at the table as dad walks in the room. “That’s what worries me,” is all she says.

***

Stella

I barely listen as Jagger chats to his father about his work with an anti-poaching unit.

All I think about is how far he’s willing to go and the consequences of me involving him.

I’m too anxious to eat, so I push my eggs around the plate and try not to look tense as I listen to the exchange between father and son.

Everything is so relaxed between them. No tension. No wondering if anyone is suddenly going to come through the door with a code that needs breaking or a bank account that needs hacking.

Walter eyes me, and frowns. “Eat up, girl.”

I try for a smile, but I can’t manage one. No one ever told me to eat up. Never. Shut up. Fuck up. Plenty of times.

But the closest thing to a family meal consisted of my mother drinking coffee in the kitchen with me before she’d go to work and my tutor would arrive.

I sit at the table, bouncing on my chair, desperate to burn off some of my nervous energy.

Everything feels off. I shouldn’t be here. In this home filled with memories of love and happiness.

I should be home in my apartment, typing up a comprehensive report for Waylon before going for a run.

Run. My entire body is begging me to get up and run from here. Run from the life I always craved, but am now terrified of.

As Jagger tells his father about working with the local tribes, and work that I’d normally be more interested in, I find myself pushing back from the table.

“I need to take a walk,” I blurt out.

Jagger narrows his eyes. “Okay. But can you wait a few minutes? I’d like to come with you.”

Walter eyes me. “Good idea. You shouldn’t go anywhere alone.”

I shake my head and force a smile. “I’ll meet you outside. I won’t move until Jagger joins me.”

When Jagger just shakes his head and gets to his feet. “I brought you here for a reason. I’m not about to let you walk around by yourself. Even in this neighborhood. Dad’s right. Anyone could be out there just waiting for a chance.”

While I cringe inwardly at how protective he’s being, Walter nods. “And you don’t want to make it easy on them.”

I swallow hard, unfamiliar emotions running through me, I back up, and gesture to the stairs. “Fine. Just let me grab my pack and I’ll meet you downstairs.”

When Jagger moves again, I glare at him. “Can’t you leave me alone for one fucking minute?” I snap.

From my peripheral vision, I see Walter’s eyebrows rise and feel guilt smack into me as Jagger just works his jaw. “Watch it,” he warns.

I can’t look at Walter as I slink from the kitchen feeling sick to my stomach.

I wait until I hear them talking again before I check the way is clear.

When I’m sure, I reach behind the bookcase in the hallway where I stashed my pack and slip out the front door as quietly as I can.

I make it to the end of the street before I see the black van with heavily tinted windows I was expecting waiting for me.

The drivers’ window rolls down a fraction and when I see dreads and a heavily pierced black face grinning at me, despite myself I relax.

“Just a matter of time before you needed my services again,” he says.

I shake my head. “I didn’t contact you for sex, Zane. I need a passport and you’re the only person in the area who can get me one.”

He just chuckles as I walk around the other side. “That’s what you say now, but you know what they say, once you go black—”

With a final look at Jagger’s family home, I jump inside and finish his sentence. “Get me the hell out of here before someone gets hurt,” I growl.