45. Jasper
45
JASPER
I stand in front of the garage, watching Coraline’s car disappear out of the compound. A mix of emotions churn in my gut, pulling me in opposite directions. Half of me is still riding high from last night, every touch, every whisper playing on repeat in my head. The other half? It’s angry. Angry that the assholes dared to lay a hand on her two days ago are still walking around without a care.
And yeah, I’m a little fucking worried too. I can only hope that they don’t try anything in broad daylight.
It’s quite the dichotomy.
I turn back to the shop, the familiar scent of motor oil and metal grounding me. I walk over to my station, tools neatly arranged, and open the office laptop. A few keystrokes later, and six live footage feeds fill the screen. Three from Coraline’s apartment and three from her bakery. All externally, for now.
My mind’s elsewhere, a million miles away, when the door chimes and an unwelcome voice cuts through the air.
“Reaper.”
I slam the laptop closed and turn around. Coraline’s douchebag ex is standing in my garage, doing his best impression of a tough guy.
“Asshole,” I greet with a smirk. “The fuck you doin’ in my garage?”
His face collapses into a scowl before he sneers at me. He saunters in like that was an invitation and looks around the garage. “I’m here about Coraline.”
My blood runs cold at her name on his lips. I take a step forward, my fingers flexing as they hang at my sides. What’s that everyone says about me? Deceptively chill. It’s my goddamn superpower. And it has the added bonus that no one ever sees it coming when I rip the mask off.
“Nah, man. She’s not your concern anymore, Wolf.” I pause, pointedly looking at his torso and the lack of a Westhaven Wolves kutte. “No colors today? Did they wise up and kick your sorry ass to the curb yet?”
His eyes land on me, a scowl slashed across his face. It’s a thinly veiled challenge. “Wrong. Typical for a Reaper. ”
His bravado is flailing now. His red face and darting glance gives him away.
I fold my arms across my chest and force the smirk to my lips. “Bold of you to walk into the Reaper compound and call us out, Lawson. You got a death wish or something?”
He bristles, his lips flattening. “Consider this your final warning.”
My brows rise with disbelief. “And what exactly are you warning me about?”
“She’s mine, Reaper.” Lawson’s eyes narrow, his expression twisting into something ugly. “And this— you —are an intermission, a fucking tantrum she’s throwing. Nothing more.”
Anger flares hot in my veins, and it takes every ounce of self-control not to close the distance between us and wipe that sardonic look off his face. But I force myself to stay put, meeting his gaze head-on. “Get the fuck out of my garage, before I forget all the reasons I don’t bury people anymore.”
Grant’s face reddens further, and he takes a step closer, his jaw clenched. “I’ve got connections now. You don’t wanna fuck with me.”
I close the distance between us, getting right in his face. “Listen up, motherfucker, because I don’t have time for your shit today. You don’t talk to Coraline. You don’t see her or text her or stop by her house. You don’t even fucking think about her anymore. She does not exist for you , yeah?”
His eyes widen with fear, but he masks it quickly with bluster. “That bitch is using you to make me jealous, and you’re?—”
I fist his shirt and slam his back against the wall. “If you ever disrespect my woman like that again, I’ll make sure it’s the last thing you ever say. You get me, Lawson?”
He swallows, his gaze hard as he looks over my shoulder.
I jostle him, slamming him against the wall again. “We clear, or do I need to give you a demonstration?”
“We’re fucking clear,” he says through a clenched jaw.
“Everything good, Jagger?” Hawke asks from the doorway a few feet away.
I release Lawson’s shirt, letting him stumble away from the wall. “We’re good,” I say to Hawke, my voice calm despite the anger still simmering beneath my skin. “Ain’t that right, Lawson?”
“Sure.” The motherfucker has the audacity to try to stare me down as he straightens his shirt, his face a mask of cold fury. He looks between Hawke and me, clearly weighing his options. After a tense moment, he turns on his heel and stalks out of the garage without another word.
Hawke watches him go, then turns to me with a raised eyebrow. “What was that about?”
I jerk my chin toward the door. “Meet Coraline’s asshole ex.”
He whistles low. “Damn, bro. And he showed up here to start shit with you? Is he tryin’ to die?”
I chuckle despite my anger. “That’s what I said.”
“What did he even want?”
I shake my head. “Nothing. It doesn’t matter. He’s a fucking gnat, and he’s not worth our time.”
He regards me for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then he nods, clapping a hand on my shoulder. “Whatever you say, man. You let me know if it becomes a problem, yeah?”
I nod and drag my hands through my hair and tip my face toward the ceiling. “Goddamnit,” I breathe out, trying to exhale the anger boiling in my blood. I look at Hawke, clocking the concern etched in his low brows. “Speaking of problems, tell me there’s an update on those assholes.”
He palms the back of his neck. “Yeah, man, I found ’em. But maybe we should wait another day, yeah?”
“Nah. I’m not going to let those motherfuckers walk around unchecked. I’m in the mood to fuckin’ ruin someone’s day, maybe even their life. So, let’s go pay them a visit.”
“You got a plan or you flyin’ blind? I’m in either way, but I like to know what I’m getting myself into.”
I cross the garage and grab a heavy duty wrench off the workbench. “Yeah, I got a fucking plan.”
Hawke’s brows rise as he regards me. “So it’s gonna be like that then? What about the garage today?”
The still image of Coraline slumped over after that motherfucker backhanded her flashes before my eyes, and I squeeze my fist around the wrench.
“You wanna work on Mr. Thompson’s car, or you wanna go fuck up a couple of wannabe gangsters who don’t know how to keep their hands to themselves?”
Hawke’s eyes light up with a dangerous gleam. “You know I’m always down for a little extracurricular activity.”
I heft the wrench over my shoulder. “Good. Let’s go remind these pricks why it’s a bad idea to touch what’s mine.”
“God, I love a teachable moment,” Hawke muses.
We find Chad Fell and Ernie Slater loitering outside some rundown bar in the outskirts of Avalon Falls. They start running when they see our bikes, but lucky for everyone, there’s nowhere to run.
Hawke and I corner them in an alleyway, the rumble of our engines echoing off the brick walls on either side of us. I cut the engine and swing my leg over, grabbing the wrench out of my saddlebag. The weight feels good, solid and reassuring.
The alley stinks of piss and stale beer, the dumpsters overflowing with trash bags and broken glass. Sweat beads on the back of my neck, the summer heat oppressive even in the shade.
It’s the kind of place that goes overlooked in a town, rundown and largely forgotten. The perfect place to teach a couple of dirtbags a lesson.
Fell and Slater back up against the brick wall behind them, their eyes wide with fear but their chests puffed out in misguided intimidation.
“Yo, we don’t want any trouble,” Slater says, jerking his chin high.
“Bummer, bro. Because that’s all we’re here for,” Hawke replies with entirely too much enthusiasm.
I smirk and saunter toward them, the wrench resting casually on my shoulder. ”Funny you should say that, considering you two had no problem causing trouble for my girl the other night.”
Slater and Fell exchange an uneasy glance, beads of sweat dotting their foreheads. “Your girl?”
“Five and a half feet, dark hair, stunning. Owns a bakery downtown,” I supply.
"Hey man, we didn't know she was with the Reapers," Fell stammers out, his voice pitching high with barely concealed panic.
He should be fucking panicked.
I stop a few feet in front of them, tilting my head as I regard Fell coolly. “Doesn’t matter if she’s with Reapers or not. You don’t ever put your hands on a woman like that unless you’re willing to lose them.”
Fell spits on the ground next to him. “Don’t know what you’re talkin’ about, Reaper.”
“Tell me something,” I start, pacing a few feet in front of them. “Did Falcone give the order to hurt my girl, or was that something you two idiots came up with all on your own?”
They exchange a look, fear and uncertainty flickering across their faces.
"Look man, we were just following orders," Slater says, holding his hands up in a placating gesture. "Falcone said to send a message."
My grip tightens on the wrench, anger pulsing hot through my veins. “What business does he have with my girl?”
Slater opens his mouth, but Fell smacks him in the chest, likely a reminder to keep his mouth shut. But that shit just won’t work for me today.
I sigh like this is all fucking inconvenient for me. But it’s quite the opposite really. I find it quite cathartic actually, the anticipation of violence simmering in my veins.
I step forward and swing the wrench into Slater’s kneecap with a sickening crunch. He howls in pain, crumpling to the ground as his leg gives out beneath him. Fell’s eyes go wide with terror and he tries to make a run for it, but Hawke clotheslines him, sending him sprawling onto the grimy pavement.
“I thought you were gonna break his hands, not his kneecaps, bro,” Hawke drawls, humor dancing in his voice.
“I was,” I say calmly, crouching down next to Slater’s writhing form. “But then I remembered that this motherfucker just stood by and watched.”
Hawke chuckles. “Seems fair to me.”
I nudge Slater’s uninjured leg with the end of the wrench. “Now, let’s try this again. What does Falcone want with my girl?”
“He told us to c-collect her rent early,” Slater stutters, his face twisted in pain.
“You shut the fuck up,” Fell snarls, lunging toward us.
Hawke shoves him back to the pavement with a hand on his chest. “Stay down, asshole.”
“What rent?”
Slater licks his lips, his wide eyes bouncing from me to Fell and back again. He shakes his head, muttering, “Fuck, man. Boss is gonna kill me.”
I crouch down in front of him. “He might. But if you don’t tell me what I want to know, I promise you, I’m going to do a helluva lot worse.”
I can’t quite tell if it’s a lie or not. The way I’m feeling right now, I think I could make good on that promise to him.
Slater pants, a thick sheen of sweat over his face. “Fuck. Fuck, okay. Boss took over for his uncle. He, uh, he raised rent on all the buildings downtown.”
“Why,” I bark out, the moving pieces starting to take shape.
Slater shakes his head, resignation slumping his shoulders and bowing his head. “Money, mostly. But Boss has a thing for your girl. Wants her for himself."
My blood runs cold at his words, a deadly calm settling over me. "What do you mean, he wants her for himself?" I ask, my voice deceptively even.
Slater swallows hard. “Just that he’s had his eye on her for a while. I don’t fucking know, man. We don’t ask questions.”
Rage boils in my veins, my vision going red at the edges.
I stand abruptly, looming over Slater’s cowering form. “Listen up, you fucking prick. You’re gonna give your boss a message from me. You tell him that Coraline Carter is under Reaper protection now. If he so much as looks in her direction again, I’ll burn his whole fucking operation to the ground with him inside it.”
Slater nods frantically, his eyes wide with terror. "Y-yes, I'll tell him. I swear."
I give him one last disgusted look before I stride over to where Fell is sprawled on the pavement, Hawke’s boot pressed firmly against his chest. Fell’s eyes are wide, defiance and fear shining brightly.
I crouch down beside him, wrench in hand. The summer sun beats down mercilessly, the heat shimmering off the dirty asphalt.
“You,” I say, my voice low, “You put your filthy hands on my girl.”
He thrusts his chin up, his gaze narrowing in challenge. “She fucking asked for it.”
My vision goes red, a white hot rage consuming me from the inside out at his words. The wrench feels like an extension of my arm as I raise it high, poised to strike.
"Wrong fucking answer, motherfucker," I snarl.
I bring the wrench down on his hand with a sickening crunch, the sound of metal meeting bone echoing off the alley walls. Fell screams, an agonized wail that reverberates through the narrow space.
I stand up with a deep exhale, trying to put a lid on the rage erupting out of me like a goddamn geyser.
“You tell Falcone I’ll be seeing him.” I point at both of them with the wrench as I walk backward toward my bike.
Hawke follows close behind, a dark chuckle rumbling from his chest. “Damn, bro. I haven’t seen you go full Reaper like that in a long time. I’m having the worst case of déjà vu right now even asking this, but you sure we should leave ’em alive?” he jokes, but there’s an undercurrent of steel in his voice.
“For now.” I slip the wrench back in my saddlebag and get on my bike.
“What if they run to Falcone?”
“Where do you think we’re headed next? But first, I gotta make a stop at the bank.”