Page 23 of Jagger
She sighed, and I heard a door close before she spoke again. “I think they have a lead on Blur, and Trent is worried he’s going to try and come after me again. I don’t think he’s that stupid, but what do I know?”
“You need to make sure you have a weapon on you until they catch him,” I reasoned and took a swallow of coffee. “Have you ever heard of a package being delivered without a sender, or even the shipping company.”
“No. Why?”
Maybe I was being paranoid, but the package was bothering me, so I explained. “When I got home, there was a box on the porch. It’s . . . heavier than it seems like it should be, and there isn’t any information on the sender or who delivered it.”
“What does it look like?” she asked.
“A foot, maybe eighteen inches square, standard brown box. All seams are wrapped in thick tape, and it has a weird odor,” I tacked on, realizing it was getting a little stronger since I brought it inside.
“Hold on for a minute,” she said, and I shrugged as I took a swallow of coffee. She came back, and I heard another voice in the background. Recognizing it was Trent, I exhaled the instant nervousness that overtook me, thinking she was putting Jagger on the phone. “Jackie, tell Trent what you just told me.”
I repeated the details, and when I was finished, Trent asked, “Can you send Cheyenne a picture of it?”
“Yep,” I remarked and put the phone on speaker while I opened the camera, took a couple pictures, and sent them to her in a text message. “Sent.”
A moment later, he said, “Open her message, please, babe.”
I could hear them speaking lower, and when Trent finally spoke, I grew a little more worried. “Don’t open the box, and if possible, take it back to your front porch. I’m going to head up that way and take a look.”
“That’s not necessary,” I reasoned and said, “I’ll just open it and let you know what’s inside.”
“No,” Trent yelled, and I dropped the phone from his sudden outburst. I couldn’t hear what he was saying until I grabbed the phone from the floor. “... any problems.”
“Repeat everything after you yelled at me.”
“I said not to open it until one of us can get up there. We’ve been hunting Blur across the country and the last sighting was in Sioux Falls a few days ago. I wouldn’t put it past him to harass the ladies of the club, and I don’t want you to have any problems.”
“There isn’t a problem. I’m not a lady of the club, and there’s no way he knows who I am,” I replied as I stood from my seat and grabbed a sharp knife from the block. “So, unless you havesomething better than a possibility, I’m going to save you the drive and gas money and open it now.”
“Please, little warrior, don’t open it without us,” I heard Jagger say, and a knot formed in my throat at his use of my pet name.
Gripping the knife harder, I closed my eyes and simply said, “Low blow, guys.”
Reaching over, I disconnected the call and stared at the ominous box sitting on my kitchen island. When I looked closely at the taped seams, I saw something seeping at the edges. Realizing something was deeply wrong here, I picked up the box and carried it to the front door. Balancing it on my leg, I unlocked the door and set the box out under the overhang on the front porch before quickly glancing around and walking back inside.
I locked the door and kept the knife in my hand as I returned to the kitchen. The faint smell was gone, but there was something on the counter, so when I grabbed a paper towel and wiped the spot, I nearly threw up when I saw what was on it.
Blood. It looked to be a small spot, but instantly, tremors took over my body. On instinct, I dialed Cheyenne’s number again and put the phone on speaker as I began to check the house, making sure every window and door was locked and secured.
“Why did you hang up?” she asked.
“Cheyenne, Trent was right, and I need help.”
The sound of shuffling came through the phone, and it was Jagger who began to speak. “Tell me what’s going on, darlin’.”
“The box is bleeding,” I whispered as I continued to walk through my house, opening closets and checking under beds.
“I’m on my way, baby. Lock yourself inside and don’t open the door for anyone but a Sinner,” Jagger instructed.
“O-o-okay,” I returned.
“I’m on my way, baby.”
The call disconnected, and I shoved the phone into my back pocket as I walked back into the kitchen. There was only one room left to inspect, and it was the basement. This far north, basements were almost required to survive the winter, but after turning the light on and carefully walking down the stairs, I realized I was being crazy.
There were no windows or doors down here, and after checking every corner, I walked back upstairs, securing the door behind me. It was usually a three-and-a-half-hour or so drive from the ranch to my house, but an hour later, my phone beeped with a message from Jagger saying they were an hour and a half out from my house.
