Chapter 33 Jagger
JAGGER
Engines roar in the distance as we walk toward my truck parked at the edge of the property. Honestly, I’m surprised Violet let me steal her away in the first place, but I’m not about to question it. “Did you drive with your friends?” I ask.
With a nod, she glances toward the party gathered at the starting line on the opposite side of the airfield. “Yeah. I should probably…”
“Hawke will make sure they get home safely.”
“I can drive—”
“They’ll be fine.”
“What about my car?” she asks.
“Roman will drop it off at your place.”
“Or I could simply give June my keys.”
“And risk you changing your mind and ditching me for your friends?” I counter.
Amusement plays at the corner of her mouth. “Are you saying you’d miss my company, Mr. Harden?”
More than you know. I keep the truth to myself and lift one shoulder, leaving the ball in her court.
“Fine,” she caves. A pebble skitters across the ground. “Do your lackeys know they’re doing your bidding yet?”
“Already sent them a text.”
She snorts. “Of course, you did.” Hands tucked in the front pocket of my hoodie, she adds, “Thank you, though.”
“For what?”
“For having it all figured out.”
“I don’t know if I’d go that far,” I argue.
“I would.” She hesitates. “You even clocked how much I needed to get out of there. Hell, you figured it out before I did.”
She’s right. It didn’t even take two seconds for me to see the discomfort in her pretty eyes.
The way she curled in on herself. She needed a minute.
A minute without spectators watching her response to them being given front row seats to her asshole of a father being… an asshole. “No problem,” I murmur.
“Speaking of your lackeys,” she continues, “your brother seemed a little…perplexed I got an invite.”
“Which one?”
“Ford,” she answers. “I can’t decide if he doesn’t like me or—”
“He likes you fine.”
She gives me the side-eye. “You sure?”
“Yeah. He’s just…not the greatest at letting people in.”
“Kinda shocking, considering how many women I’ve seen him with.”
“Emotionally,” I clarify as we reach my truck. Instead of opening her door, I lower the tailgate, adding, “Physically, he has no problem connecting with people.”
“Connecting. As in, literally.” She snorts. “Gross.”
It is a little gross. Especially when she puts it like that.
I’m not judging Ford or where he puts his dick.
We all have our vices and our own ways of coping with shit.
I like to kick people’s asses and bury myself inside women.
Ford likes to gamble and race and fuck. Hawke likes to…
well, I have no idea what Hawke does or where he goes half the time, but still.
“Want to watch the race from here?” I ask.
I don’t want to push her. She’s already shaken from my encounter with her dad.
But I also don’t want to give him any kind of control, either.
If she wants to stay, she should. He can’t hurt her anymore.
If he does, I’ll kill him. “Or, I can take you somewhere,” I offer.
“Or I can make the decision for you, if you’d prefer.
Whatever you want, Vi.” I hesitate. “Do you want me to take you home?”
She shakes her head, nods, then shakes it again. The movement is jerky and forced as she chews her bottom lip, lost in thought.
“Vi?” I prod.
Blinking, she looks up at me again. “Sorry. I’m not very helpful tonight, am I?”
Not in the slightest, but I don’t mind. “What can I do?” I ask.
“Nothing.” She shrugs. “Honestly, you’ve done more than enough. I didn’t even realize I was triggered by him showing up out of the blue, let alone the word home.”
My brows pull. “What?”
“You asked if I wanted you to take me home, and my first thought was how much I hate home, but then how messed up that is, because I didn’t always hate home.
I actually kind of loved it until my dad showed up when I was a little kid and ruined everything.
And then, I remembered I don’t technically live in that house anymore despite being the owner of the stupid thing, and—”
“You own the house?”
“It was my mom’s.” She sighs. “I know it’s not much to look at, but since my dad was never married to my mom, only a very toxic and abusive relationship that was on and off half the time, she left it to me.
However,”—she kicks another pebble with the toe of her shoe—“since I was a minor when she disappeared, my dad gained control of everything until I turned eighteen, and the idea of kicking him out felt like a massive headache and a fight I wasn’t ready to tackle, so…
” Her nose wrinkles. “Sorry, I don’t know why I’m telling you my life story.
I guess I just…” She peeks up at me. “Thank you. For standing up for me back there.”
“Anytime, Vi.”
Her mouth bunches on one side as she looks around the airfield, lost in thought. “You know what? Let’s stay.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah,” she decides. “At least for a little while.”
“Okay.” Grabbing her hips, I lift Violet up, setting her on the tailgate and jumping in beside her.
The stars are out as revving engines echo in the distance.
The race has started. Part of me wants to ask if she’s ever been to a drag race, but considering the look of awe and curiosity as the sound of engines rumbles through the air, I have a feeling I already know the answer.
“Just wait ‘til they drive around…”—I grab her chin, pointing her toward our left—“that bend. It’s going to be loud, but you’re going to love it.”
“Love it, huh?” She peeks up at me, those coffee brown eyes shooting straight through my hollow chest. If only I knew what she was searching for.
Slowly, I lower my hand from her silky skin, forcing myself to stay in check no matter how hard it is.
“You know,” Violet murmurs, “I’ve been thinking about what you said.”
“What did I say?” I ask.
“About keeping your distance until things settle down for your…business, or whatever.”
I frown. “Okay?”
She nibbles the inside of her bottom lip, second-guessing herself.
“Say it,” I push.
Giving in, she points out, “If your goal was to keep your distance, jumping my dad, then walking straight toward me was a pretty crappy way of doing it.”
The girl deserves more credit than most give her.
She’s right, too. Sure, I planned for people to see us together tonight, but beating the shit out of her dad wasn’t exactly on the agenda.
Even so, I wouldn’t take it back. I’d like to say I’d do it for anyone, but the truth is, I’m usually too caught up in my own life to notice shit like that.
Hell, Virgil’s been making bets since Ford opened shop, and we never had any issues.
Not until Violet showed up at our estate, demanding we give back her money. Not that we listened.
Resting my forearm on my bent knee, I study Violet’s silhouette in the moonlight, blown away but how pretty she is.
Button nose. A dappling of freckles. Pretty pink lips, though I’ve never seen them with anything but chapstick.
Light blonde hair that looks more silver than gold in the moonlight.
I rub my fingers against my palm, preventing myself from reaching out and touching her skin again to see if it’s as silky as it was two minutes ago.
“Jag?” she pushes. “Are you having an, oh, shit, you’re totally right, what was I thinking moment, or…?”
A low laugh rolls through me. “Not exactly.”
“Oh?”
“I already figured it out,” I reply.
“Oh, really? Care to fill me in?”
The edge of my mouth curves up. “Maybe later.”
With a laugh, she bumps her shoulder against mine. “As long as you don’t decide to ditch me as soon as someone sees us together, then I guess I’ll let you keep your secrets.”
“Nah, it’s no secret,” I reply. “I’m telling people you caught my attention tonight, and I would’ve been a fool to ignore it.”
“A fool, huh?”
Her gaze softens, and she folds her arms, looking so tiny in my sweatshirt, all I want to do is wrap her up and take her home. Instead, I spread my arms wide, and say, “You’ve got me all night, Little Thief.”
She looks me up and down, the same softness in her pretty gaze hitting me right between the ribs. “So, now I’m stealing your evening? Damn. Maybe I really am a thief.”
She has no idea.
My thoughts. My time. My logic. She has a way of taking it all, and for some reason I don’t understand, I’m happy to give it all.
I toss my arm around her, pulling her into my side. Surprisingly, she doesn’t protest. Instead, she melts against me, resting her head against my chest while stealing my warmth.
The roaring of engines grows closer as headlights cut through the abandoned airfield, highlighting cracked pavement, weeds, and cars parked along the edge of the makeshift track, including my own.
“Get ready,” I warn her. “They’re coming up on the turn.”
She sits up a little taller, watching the race unfold in front of us.
The smell of burning rubber and fuel permeates the air as a blur of green and black comes into view.
It showcases what I already knew. Roman’s sleek black Toyota Supra he built from the ground up battles Ford’s lime-green Jaguar F-Type R Coupe with a V8, while the rest of the racers fight for third place.
It’s going to be a close one, too. Tires squealing, the drivers take the turn, the familiar drop and roar of the engines shifting from gear to gear.
They push their cars to the limits on the long stretch in front of us, and Ford takes the lead while he has the advantage, knowing Roman’s Supra handles the turns better than his F-Type.
As they race past, the air picks up around us, and Violet’s hair turns into a flurry of blonde, tickling my nose.
Her head snaps to her right. She follows the flash of cars until the roaring quiets, their brake lights disappearing around the next turn. Then, the adrenaline from moments ago seems to evaporate, and Violet’s muscles melt back against me.
“Damn,” she murmurs.
I glance down at her.
“I mean, I figured they were fast, but…” She whistles. “That’s insane.”
“You have no idea,” I tell her.
“Do they always race against each other?” she prods. “Roman and Ford?”
“Not always. Racing is more of Ford’s thing. Rome’s more into the building aspect. He only races every once in a while.”
“Well, he killed it,” she says. “Obviously. How fast are they going?”
“Depends,” I answer. “Last time we clocked them, Rome’s car did a quarter mile in twelve point two seconds. And Ford?” I laugh. “He did it in eleven point five.”
Her eyes widen as she tries to wrap her head around the numbers I threw at her, though it’s impossible unless you’re behind the wheel. “So, Ford’s is faster?”
“Only on the straight,” I explain. “Rome’s car handles turns a little better, which makes a track like this fun to race on. Or so they say.” I shake my head again, imagining if the roles were reversed and I was out there with them. “Personally, I think they’re insane for being out there.”
Twisting to face me, Violet gives me a look that makes me feel like I’ve grown a second head. “I’m sorry, aren’t you the guy who legitimately fights for fun?” she quips.
She’s right. From the outside looking in, I seem just as delusional.
With another laugh, I lift a shoulder. “Guess we all have our vices.”
“Mm-hmm,” she agrees.
Little does she know, the more I hang around my Little Thief, the more I want to add her to my list of them.