Chapter 2
TWO
JASPER
The first few weeks of a new school year are the most intriguing, almost like stalking new prey while they all frolic on campus trying to find their way.
Ninety percent of the girls steer clear from me, hearing the rumors that follow me around like a bad aura, but the rare few that try to dip their toes in the water only realize that they’re stepping in hot lava, a place they don’t want to be.
I’m content with that, though, never wanting to drag someone into the life I’m forced to live behind closed doors, and the horrible things I’ve done to survive.
Even so, when the annual Emory Row Party kicks off, I can’t help but watch the new girls parade around like bait, their tiny, bright-colored dresses alluring, even if I’m only picturing what those various shades would look like on my bedroom floor.
“Seriously, Massi? You’re just setting a trap to kill at this point, leave those poor girls alone,” Tyson argues from the opposite side of the room, his judgmental attitude only pushing me to do what I want, rather than what he says.
Tyson and I are a part of a forced family, like a marriage a little kid pushes back on every chance he gets, but at the end of the day, I gained a brother, and for that, I’ll always be thankful.
We were raised the same, but our personalities, approach, and views on this life we ended up in are drastically different, and I can’t help the fact that I’m the one who takes the brunt of the physical jobs, the ones that demand more.
No matter what, I protect Tyson at any and all costs, taking the worst of it, just so he can enjoy life on the high horse he pretends to ride on.
“I just want to check out the new blood, Ty. You could let up a little, come down for a drink or two,” I propose, but he’s stubborn, only rolling his eyes as the bedroom door slams behind him.
Things have been escalating recently, with violence breaking out too close to home, and while it’s my territory to defend, Tyson was grandfathered into a life he never wanted in the first place.
He has to fight alongside me, and although it was never supposed to come to this, he can’t wrap his head around the fact that we were bred to kill.
I, on the other hand, embrace that side of myself, always using the skills I was trained in to survive. It hasn’t come to a head yet, but an all out war is brewing, and the fact that we’re mid-level lackeys only serves as a reminder that we’re running out of time.
Time to be young, time to be kids, time before we have to become the very thing we’ve envisioned getting away from.
So, when a party brings itself right to our doorstep, I can’t say no to a chance at letting loose, considering the fact that we own this frat house, and have a say over what happens here, unbeknownst to the preppy idiots who think they run the place.
“Massi, I don’t think this is your scene,” one kid says as I make my way down the stairs, his scrawny frame pressing against the banister while I walk.
“I’m just grabbing a drink, in my own house, is that okay Eli?” I snap, wanting to rip his head from his body, only leaving the collared shirt hanging off his neck, but choosing to play nice.
“Of course. I think … I think you should go ahead,” he stutters, almost launching himself over the railing, and I can’t help but smile as I inhale his fear like a cheap cologne.
Bright colors explode across my vision as I make my way through the room, heading for the kitchen where the alcohol is always free-flowing and accessible, something I make sure of.
There are benefits to being the richest kid on campus, especially when your mafia-boss father donates enough money to ensure that no matter how many laws you break, you stay enrolled.
I’m untouchable around here, and everyone either knows it, is afraid of me, or saves their hushed whispers for when I’m out of earshot, but I don’t mind their fear, sometimes choosing to use it as a catalyst for a little fun at their expense.
After my fourth drink, I’m ready to call it a night but when I pass through the kitchen one last time, I’m frozen in place, captivated by a girl I’ve never seen before.
She doesn’t fit in with this crowd, immediately standing out amongst the preppy, rich girls that typically show up at these parties, but that only fuels the fire under my feet even more.
A strange feeling takes over, something I’ve never experienced before, and I’m almost desperate to know the dark angel planted in my home, only steps away from me.
Fuck it, I think to myself, what’s the worst that can happen, she throws her drink in my face?
She’s absolutely gorgeous, and I’m certain that at any second her boyfriend will emerge from the woodwork, but if I can spend one moment in her orbit, that may be enough to jump start the dead space where my heart is supposed to be.
As I stalk closer, I find myself taking in every inch of her body, from the boots, to the extra short skirt, all the way up to her lacy tank top, but my breath nearly hitches when her bright blue eyes meet mine, almost like I’m caught in an ice storm in the middle of summer.
My blood goes cold, a shiver erupts over my entire body, and although it’s something I’ve never felt before, I’m desperate to know the girl who has such incredible power over me, without speaking a single word.
“I’ve never seen you here before,” I say, immediately regretting the cheesiest, stupidest line I’ve ever laid on a woman.
She doesn’t break eye contact as she downs the rest of her drink in one gulp, and fuck, the fire that resides in her is like an inferno, threatening to burn me alive.
“Vodka. Straight. No ice.” She shoves her cup into my chest, not even blinking as she makes her move, waiting to see what mine will be.
We’re playing chess, certainly not checkers, and I’ll entertain her, if only to find out what else she has up her sleeve.
Without a word, I hold my hand out for her to take, and she raises an eyebrow, pausing before clasping her palm into mine.
Her skin is baby soft, and shots of electricity flow through me, just because our fucking hands are touching.
Who is this woman?
We’ve only connected for a few fleeting moments, but already I can sense something within her, and it isn’t the fear that usually radiates off girls when they’re with me, this is different.
She is different.
“You going to say anything, or are you just going to drag me around the party like I’m your leashed poodle?” She snaps, rolling her eyes as she stares up at me, a bored expression on her face.
“You’re no poodle. Maybe a trained-to-kill german shepherd, or a feral house cat that can claw your eyes out.” I wink at her, and she’s completely unfazed, that sassy attitude practically dripping off of her. “Tell me your name.”
“Make me that drink,” she says, the first semblance of a smile breaking across her face, and I’m left imagining what else those pretty pink lips can do.
Pressing her back against the counter, I reach around her frame until my hand meets a bottle of vodka, pouring it into her red cup without breaking our eye contact.
Before I hand it back, I take a sip, challenging her to do the same without fear of it being spiked, but she barely blinks, bringing the cup to her lips the second I pass it.
“Carter,” she whispers around the burn of the liquor, her gaze meeting mine once again.
“Jasper, but everyone calls me Massi,” I say in return, and she smirks, an indecipherable look on her face.
“Thanks for the drink, Jasper.” She starts to walk away, but I reach out, snatching her arm and pulling her until our bodies are flush.
A slight blush forms on her cheeks at the sudden movement, and I catch a sparkle in her ice-blue eyes, mixed with a hint of mischief.
She’s a mystery, one I’m determined to crack, and I sense the same energy from her, both of us intrigued by the other.
“You’re not afraid of me, are you, Carter?”
“Why would I be? You don’t strike me as someone who’d spike my drink or take advantage of me,” she says confidently, and I can’t help but smile, impressed by her quick wit.
“Then what’s with the thigh sheath?” I ask, my fingertips grazing the leather strapped to her leg, the piece immediately revealing itself the moment our bodies touched.
“A girl needs protection. What’s with the gun in your waistband? You got enemies I should know about?” She fires back, her hand resting on the butt of my weapon tucked underneath my shirt.
“All my enemies are dead, Principessina.” I tilt her chin upward with my finger, leaning down until I’m hovering above her lips, daring her to make a move.
“I don’t kiss strangers.” She pushes off of me, flipping her curls in my face as she walks away, but this time, I let her go, not ashamed to stare at her ass as she leaves.
Pretty, smart, and dangerous.
A recipe for disaster, but with her, I might just lean into my likely obliteration.
Carter Ruby Cassina.
That’s the mysterious girl I met at the party last weekend, and after some digging around the admissions office, I was able to access her school files.
She’s from upstate New York, transferring from a small city college, and living a few streets over in an off-campus apartment, but beyond that, she’s a ghost.
The issue is, I can’t dig up any social media accounts, family members, or a past besides the college she attended.
More than ever, I’m determined to crack the code and learn everything there is to know about her, including why she’s impossible to find online.
I’ve made it my personal mission to understand every single piece of her, and she has absolutely no idea. I’ve staked out her house a couple of times, noting that she doesn’t leave often, only for classes or coffee runs.
Her schedule is easy to follow, considering she takes business courses and electives, none of which adds up according to the classes she took upstate.
It’s as if she became a completely different student at Emory, a stark change from the various arts and English courses listed on the transcripts from her last school.
“Are you still online stalking that chick?” Tyson asks, letting himself into my room without knocking, one of my biggest pet peeves.
“It doesn’t make any sense. What girl doesn’t have an Instagram?”
“The kind that likes privacy, maybe? I don’t have an Instagram,” he says, flopping down on my bed and lighting a cigarette.
“I don’t know, Ty. There’s something about her, I can’t place it, and I’m not stopping until I figure it out.
For all we know, she could be a plant from the Ricci Family in an attempt to take us out,” I say, slamming my laptop shut and reaching for a pre-rolled joint – courtesy of the local dispensary – from the case on my bed.
Admittedly, I’m being a little over the top, but nobody else needs to hear that confession, especially Tyson, since I’ll never hear the end of it.
When you’re preparing to go to war, anything is a possibility, and everyone is a threat.
“I highly doubt they’d send in a lone twenty-something girl to kill us, Massi. You need to stop being so paranoid.” He reaches for the joint, puffing it a few times before coughing, the smoke clouds billowing in the air.
Tyson only thinks with the utmost logic, and behind his back, I roll my eyes at his words, not following in his path of rationality.
Refusing to ignore my gut instinct is not something I do often, and right now, it’s screaming at me to find out what Carter is hiding, so rather than go back and forth on her true intentions, I check my watch, noting that her afternoon class is about to end, and I want to be there when it’s over.
Making a mad dash for the door, I snatch my keys off the desk, and thankfully, Tyson doesn’t say a word, only shaking his head as I scramble to gather my stuff.
Luckily, the main campus is only a quick drive, and I park in a staff-only space, intent on getting a front row seat to wherever it is she’s going.
I’m in the mood to play, so I get out, leaning against the hood of my car, letting her see me, and hoping the message I’m trying to convey comes across crystal fucking clear.
The best way to ensure someone makes a mistake, or slips up, is to let them know you’re watching, and that’s exactly what I’m doing.
She seems to be the type that loves games, so let’s play.
Right on cue, she walks out of the main building, looking absolutely perfect, like a pretty little nightmare.
She’s wearing a Nirvana t-shirt, tied off in the front to let her belly show, and black leggings that hug every curve on her body. There’s no chance she’s wearing a sheath today, as the outline would clearly be visible, but something tells me she’s always carrying a weapon somewhere on her body.
Her dark curls are pinned up in a simple ponytail, and I catch myself thinking how good it’d look wrapped around my fist.
Just because I don’t trust her, doesn’t mean I’m not deathly attracted to her, because every time I see her, I imagine the things we could do together more than I pay attention to her habits.
I’m lost in my thoughts when I realize she’s not walking toward her apartment, instead, making a beeline straight for me, her hand shoved inside the tote bag slung over her shoulder.
“Are you stalking me, Jasper?” She asks, marching right up to me, in broad daylight, something that almost never happens.
“Now, why would I do that, Principessina?” I tease, using the nickname I called her the night we met, noting how her cheeks blush slightly.
“I am not your little princess. Stop fucking following me, I saw you yesterday, too.” She spins on her heel and attempts to walk away from me, but I’m not quite done with her yet.
“Let me drive you home,” I offer, and she laughs, not even bothering to turn and face me.
“I can manage just fine, thanks Stalker Boy,” she scoffs, flipping me the finger as she continues to get further away from me.
This time I let her go, but keep a watchful eye, noting that she is heading home, and wait until she’s just out of sight before following the path she took.
It’s a terrible idea, and she’s probably going to fucking stab me, but little does she know just how much that’d turn me on.
Just as she’s opening the door to her apartment, I shift the gear into park at the corner of the street, not bothering to hide the fact that I followed her home.
I want her to know I’m here, that I’m watching and waiting for the moment she messes up.
Right before she slips behind the door she flips me off again, and I offer a small wave, winking just as she shuts the blinds.
My first instinct was dead on, this girl loves the thrill of the game just as much as I do, and I know for a fact she’s not intimated by my presence in the slightest, almost like she’s welcoming this twisted version of cat and mouse.
Oh, we’re just getting started, Principessina.