Page 18 of Jasper
She nods her agreement. “Yeah, I’m getting the feeling you’re right about him.”
“He’s dangerous,” I warn her. “Not in the gun-in-the-glovebox way. In the way that makes people feel like they owe him something. You’re not obligated to him in any way. Don’t let him gaslight you into thinking you are.”
She looks over at me, wrapping her arms more tightly around her waist. “You think he’s gonna come back here?”
“I know he is. That’s why I’m gonna assign two prospects to keep an eye on the street tonight. They’re trained to be quiet and unobtrusive. You won’t even know they’re here. They answer to me, so they won’t try to come into your house or try anything out of pocket, ‘cause they know I’ll beat their ass if they even think about harassing or inconveniencing you in any way. Think of them as private duty security guards.”
She turns to face me, brows shooting up in alarm. “What? I can’t afford one security guard, much less two.”
“Prospects don’t get paid for prospecting. They’re men interested in joining our club. They’re in their proving stage and will do what I say, ‘cause I’m their VP. I’m not taking chances with you or our kid.”
Her mouth opens, but no words come out. A multitude of expressions move across her face—confusion, reluctance, gratitude, and even relief.
I speak softly. “You said you needed time. I meant it when I said that I ain’t here to force you to do anything you don’t want to do. But you chose me and my baby over the Whitmores. That means that anything you need—baby related or not—I’ll get for you. I’m all in. Consider me your protector moving forward.”
Her breath catches. “I don’t know what to say. You’re doing too much.”
“I’m not, trust me on that. You agreeing to be my surrogate means I’m gonna be a dad. I take that shit very seriously. My whole family does. I’ll pay what they promised. Hell, I’ll double it if that’s what it takes. And I don’t need no fuckin’ contractbecause I can see that you’re an honest woman. I plan to deal fairly with you because you’re the mother of my child. If you really think we need it in writing, I’ll get my club attorney to draw a contract up. I just want to make sure you’re safe, and the kid gets born without any kind of trouble comin’ your way.”
The more I talk, the larger her eyes get. I can tell she’s getting emotional. Just watches me like she’s trying to read between the lines to see what I really mean.
“And what happens after?” she asks.
“After what?”
“After the baby’s born.”
I nod slowly, unsure why she’s askin’ me that same question all over again. It feels like she just wants to verify the after piece because it’s causing her tremendous anxiety.
“That’s a fair question, but I already answered it. Remember, I said you could stay involved if you want or walk away with no strings attached. It’s not my job to tell you what to do. It’s your job to tell me how involved you want to be. Trust me, I can take care of my child, all by myself if that’s what you want. I ain’t goin’ nowhere.”
Her eyes start to shine with unshed tears. She’s not one bit dramatic. She’s just quiet, grateful, and probably exhausted from all the worrying.
We sit there in the quiet of early evening, two strangers who’ve already shared too much. I don’t reach for her. Don’t touch her hand or lean in close because I mean to see this through. Offending her ain’t the right way to earn her trust.
When we part ways and I get back to my bike, the sun’s sitting behind the tree line. Crickets are already tuning up and the neighborhood kids have gone home to dinner.
I glance back at the porch. She’s still there. Sitting with her knees drawn up with her arms draped around them. She’s watching me with an expression I can’t quite name. It’s not fear but not quite trust either. Maybe it’s something between the two—and that’s good enough for me.
I jerk my chin at her. My way of saying goodbye, and I’m rewarded with a faint smile. When she gets up to go inside, she doesn’t wave. I don’t expect her to.
I fire up the engine, but I don’t ride off just yet. Instead, I pull out my phone and hit Slate’s number. He answers on the second ring.
“Yeah?”
“You got newbies with clean faces and quiet mouths?” I ask.
“Prospects? Maybe. Why?”
“Assign ‘em to Harper Street. They need to be on a quiet watch for this assignment.”
He pauses. “You settin’ up a civilian babysitting service these days, Jasper?”
“It ain’t babysitting. She’s carrying my kid. The guy who wanted her to carry his instead is losing his mind, and I don’t like the look in his eyes.”
Suddenly my brother’s voice is alert and cooperative. “Fuckin’ hell. You got a kid on the way? Better tell Queenie ASAP.”
“I’ll deal with Ma in due time. I want ‘em on house 227 round the clock. Tell them to contact me directly if anything pops off.”
