Page 31 of Twisted

For the first time in her life, Maisie’d met a man of his word.

10

Jaeger

Eight Years Ago

Las Vegas, Nevada

(Jaeger is 20)

Orange wasn’t Jaeger’s color, but as he was shuffled out and into the small cubby these fuckers called a ‘meeting room,’ his annoyance fled. There Rancho sat, tatted hands clasped on the tabletop, his thick rimmed glasses reflecting back the fluorescent lighting—but the expression on his face sobered Jaeger then and there.

He’d been working with the man for two solid years now, always his shadow, but Jaeger still had a wild streak that refused taming. With the influx of money—money Jaeger didn’t know what to do with—he’d gone on a drunken spree across the states, fucking and fighting, hot blooded as ever. He knew as he seated himself that he was in deep shit, but he just couldn’t help his smart-assed ways.

“Fancy seein’ you here, pal.”

Rancho’s eyes darkened, and he raised a finger, as though to poke his chest through the plexiglass.

“Better shut your fuckin’ mouth right now, kid.”

Jaeger leaned back, crossing his arms with a rattle of his chains.

“It wasn’t my fault—”

Rancho leaned in, jutting a thumb backwards.

“Kid’s in a coma, you fuckin’ dipshit! How the hell am I supposed to relay that message? We can’t get a hold of our best guy because…what?”

Jaeger smirked now. Consequences weren’t really his thing. They never would be. So he leaned in, leveling his best friend with an insidious grin.

“Love Vegas, but ya know what I love me more?”

Rancho threw his hands up in exasperation, leaning back, awaiting the punch line.

“Getting the fuck back to work?”

“Nah, Ranch,” he said, using his nickname for his counterpart—one only Jaeger was allowed to use. “Love finding me a grown ass man droppin’ roofies in cocktails.”

Rancho’s eyes narrowed.

“Not your problem to deal with, kid. Get off your righteous justice bullshit.”

“Ain’t righteous justice, since the fucker was bleedin’ out before he could snag a little hottie that I’d been workin’ all night.”

Rancho dragged his hands along his tired face.

“Don’t matter, kid. You cut his cock off. Know how much that’s gonna cost boss man to cover up?”

Jaeger snorted, rubbing his jaw. He wasn’t all too sure when he’d devolved into Satan’s right hand man, but he’d never felt more himself. He craved the torture, the screams, the pain. Didn’t usually matter if they were innocent or not; he simply did as he was bid. This time, though…

Rancho let out another angered sigh when Jaeger simply gave him an indifferent shrug.

“Bail’ll be posted tomorrow, kid. All you did was get in a bar fight. Lucky you, boss man is here.”

That made Jaeger sit ram-straight in his chair. Before he could give a rebut, Rancho stood, the squeak of chair legs obnoxiously loud in the small room.

“That’s right, kid. He wants to meet ya…in person.”

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