Page 5 of Twisted

“Miss, I can’t—”

“Then fucking leave!” she snapped, turning her fury to him. The little man jumped and straightened his glasses. Their father let out a long sigh of annoyance. He nodded to the small man, giving him permission to leave them for a few moments. When everything was settled once more, Jaeger spoke up again.

“Tell it to me straight, Linds, or I leave and you two can sort this shit out.”

She blinked a few times at her big brother. He knew she wasn’t expecting this cold man that now sat before her; they were the same in many ways. Dirty blond hair, deep yet bright green eyes, a morbid sense of humor and a wicked streak that ran deep in their veins. He knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that she was capable of ending a man’s life and reveling in it.

But hearing Maisie Walkup’s name after so many years sent a jolt through him.

“She did it,” Lindsay hissed, her grip on her father visibly tightening in her fury, “—she fucking did it and I don’t know how.”

“Linds, they have all the evidence stacked a mile high against you. Fingerprints, gunpowder, video surveillance, purchases of rat poison on your credit card—”

Her vehement glare cut her father’s words short. Jaeger smirked. Whoever had framed Lindsay had been either a pro or some sort of genius. He splayed his inked hands on the table and pushed himself up, the chair grating against the chipped tile floors as he stood.

“Where is she now?”

“We don’t know that it was her,” their father growled. Jaeger’s eyes snapped to his, locking in a silent battle. Everyone in that small, stuffy room knew it was Maisie; the problem was, no one would have ever suspected someone like her. Jaeger, though, knew to never underestimate anyone, not even that slippery little minx who could make even the Devil himself blush.

With a resigned, heavy sigh, Zechariah set his jaw, and ice flooded his gaze.

“Find her, Johnathon, clean this shit up. I don’t care how. You have three months until trial.”

Jaeger smirked, eyes flitting to his baby sister. He’d right her wrongs, clear her name, keep her from the shadows he reveled in. And when all was said and done, he’d go back to the life he’d created for himself, hopefully with a prize in tow.

“Where?” he asked Linds. He’d be lying if he said a thrill of deep, dark arousal didn’t shoot through him at the prospect of seeing Maisie Jane Walkup again. Part of him hated her for how she’d unwittingly ruined him. But now, here she was, offered up on a silver platter and with his father’s cloaked blessing of torturing her so sweetly for a confession. He bit his cheek to stave the flow of blood that shot to his cock. He wanted her screams to paint the walls as he fucked her. She’d gotten away once, and she never would again.

“Hope Mills. There’s a hard drive backed up with video surveillance of their home. Carter told me about it. Find it, Jaggy,” Lindsay said. His smirk deepened as he stood to his full height, a broad shouldered beast that tapered down into a fit young man nearing his thirties. He gave a sharp nod, heading toward the door. His father’s protests fell on deaf ears as his boots thudded hard against the floor, the gait of a man to be feared and respected.

The humid air of North Carolina hung thick around him, settling heavily in his lungs. Throwing his leg over his Harley, he revved it to life and lit up a Newport Menthol. Perched precariously between his pinkish lips, he allowed a small grin of ecstasy to grace his face at this strange turn of events. As the smoke filled his lungs, mingling with the humidity, his smile grew into a macabre grin.

He’d claimed her that night all those years ago, gave her a taste of the sweetness of his brand of sin, and she’d returned the favor, even if it was a night she couldn’t remember.

He took a long drag on that cigarette, wondering if Maisie’s subconscious was ever jump-started by the same flavor, the same brand. He’d help her remember, once he found her. He’d hold that thin white stick to those pouty red lips and bring his fantasy flaring to life once more. They’d only shared a kiss and a cigarette in that greenhouse those six years ago, the first and last visit home he’d made since leaving when he was just eighteen.

The rumble of his Harley and the vibrations of the beast between his thighs grew into its own entity as he revved up and pulled out of the parking lot with only one thing on his mind; those big blue eyes and how wide they’d go when he pinned her down and took from her what had been owed for six years.

Jaeger

Six Years Ago

(Jaeger is 22)

The party was bursting at the seams with chaotic energy. Jaeger could feel the bass thumping through his chest and leather vest, even over the roar of his precious, newly purchased Harley. His Sweet Baby, he’d dubbed it. The things he’d done to acquire the money to purchase it outright were less than legal, but he knew, in his heart, he’d earned it.

He kicked the stand down and cut the engine, staring up at his sister’s mansion with the bitter taste of disgust potent on his tongue. He hated Randy, the fucking sleazy salesman she’d married, but then again, Linds could be lured easily with something shiny and expensive. She had her mother to blame for her champagne taste. A woman Jaeger refused to acknowledge ever again. The only reason he was here now was out of duty; he’d go to this fucking wedding party, seeing as he missed the wedding itself. Linds would forgive him, judging by the boisterous shouts and splashes from their in-ground pool.

Their father…

Jaeger smirked, patting his pocket for his favorite brand of cigs. His fingers found the familiar stick in his breast pocket, and he flicked the lid off his Zippo lighter on his jean-clad thigh, the small flame lighting up the otherwise dusky, dark street. If looking cool as fuck made you money, Jaeger would be even more filthy rich than he already was.

With the cigarette perched between his lips, he smoothed back his long, wild locks of dirty blond hair and tied it off at the back of his skull, standing to his full impending height and making his way to the party. He was in some state of shock when he let himself in through the back gate to the gardens; Linds could get down, this he knew, but what surprised him most was that Randy had let her throw such a bash. Wasn’t this fucker more conservative, keeping her on a tight leash?

But no, it was apparent Randy was enjoying himself just as much as his sister, and as Jaeger lingered in the shadows to observe, he understood why very quickly. The female to male ratio was a joke. Women in skimpy thong bikinis chased one another around the lit pool, tits jiggling as they screeched out drunken laughter. Jaeger was young and hot blooded, and the sight did wonders for him, too, but he was still good in his heart. The world, his job—it hadn’t tainted him enough yet. He still had loose morals and a conscience, but it was hanging on like the thin threads holding together those girls’ swimsuit tops.

In the midst of the drunken fervor, Randy lay sprawled in a lawn chair with a beer in one hand and Lindsay’s ass in the other. She fluttered her eyes and laughed, ignoring Randy to talk to a girl Jaeger’d never seen before. She was a small thing, a little sprite with dark hair and smooth, summer kissed skin. She filled her purple swimsuit well, but he noted it was a conservative one-piece. Didn’t matter to him; her tanned legs were delicious, longer than he initially thought as he gathered her up in his eyes and committed her to memory for later.

He smirked, until his eyes drifted down to her left hand. The rock that sat perched there could drown her if she fell in the pool. He narrowed his eyes in sheer jealousy. Linds always got what she wanted, and Jaeger was always pushed to the side in honor of her. He was a fuck-up, a rebel without a cause, and their father never ceased to let him know. But with word of who he worked for now, Zechariah kept his mouth shut good and tight around his flighty son.

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