Chapter 35 Jagger
JAGGER
The sound of an engine roaring in the driveway jostles me from sleep.
Tossing my forearm over my eyes, I groan and roll onto my side.
It’s empty. The bed. Not exactly what I was expecting when last night, I fell asleep with a certain blonde tucked against my side.
Where the hell is Violet? Curious, I sit up and look around, confirming what I already know.
My Little Thief is missing. A girl’s laughter echoes from outside.
Slipping on a pair of boxers, then basketball shorts, I glance out the window, curious if I’ll catch the culprit.
Violet? Is that you? I search the front yard and driveway for a flash of blonde, but whoever had been outside is missing.
Instead, all I find is a familiar bike parked out front.
“What the hell are you doing here, Judge?” I mumble under my breath. Snatching a T-shirt from my closet, I tug it over my head and enter the hallway, nearly running into Ford.
“What does he want now?” Ford asks.
“No idea,” I admit. “Where’s Hawke and Rome?”
Ford shrugs as the same feminine laughter comes from the first floor.
“Is that Violet?” Hawke asks from behind me.
I look over my shoulder, finding an exhausted Hawke rubbing at his tired eyes when the guest room’s door squeaks open, revealing Roman.
To be fair, Roman’s had his own room in our house for a solid four years, but we’ve gotten into the habit of calling it the guest room in case our father ever found out.
“Who’s here?” Roman asks.
“Judge,” Ford answers.
Roman frowns. “Want me to wait—”
“I’m done accommodating him,” I mutter. “We all should be. Come on. Let’s get this over with.”
With a pep in his step, Ford takes the lead, jogging down the stairs. “Hey, Unc— Oh.” Ford stops short at the base of the stairs, then rushes forward with open arms.
Hawke follows after. “What the hell are you doin’ here, Cobie?”
A divot forms between my brows as I register our little sister’s name.
Cobie? What? I hurry after them, caught between surprise and disbelief.
Sure enough, there she is. Light brown hair.
The sweetest smile. And bright green eyes that mirror our mom’s.
My baby sister in the flesh. I haven’t seen her since last Christmas.
When we were younger, Titas would dangle her visits like carrots to a horse.
As we got older, we gave up begging him to bring her home, resigning ourselves to the holidays and maybe a week or two during the summer.
She’s grown a couple inches, and her hair is longer, too.
But her smile? It’s the same one she’s had since birth, but now it’s full of white, straight teeth instead of nothing but gums. My chest tightens at the memory.
“You’ve grown!” I call as she’s passed around from one brother to the next like a joint after finals.
Ford first, then Hawke. In the corner of the family room sits Judge.
I can’t decide if it’s relief I see on his face or resignation. What the hell is going on?
“Hey, Judge,” I greet him.
“Hey, Jag.” He stands, offering his hand since he lost all ground for hugs the moment he took our dad’s side instead of his nephews’.
I take the subtle olive branch, shaking his hand as my brothers pepper Cobie with questions.
Stealing her from them, I pull my baby sister into a hug and rest my chin against the top of her head. “Hey, Cobes.”
“Hey, big bro,” she mumbles against my chest.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, repeating Hawke’s sentiment.
With a final pat against my back, she wiggles free from my grasp, smiles up at me, and looks at each of us in the room. “Dad decided my time in purgatory was up and called me home.” Her slim shoulders lift an inch. “So, here I am.”
“Cobes,” Judge warns.
“Okay, fine,” she caves. “I may or may not have been banished from Purgatory’s grounds for…reasons…and figured I’d crash on my brothers’ couch while I finish out the rest of the year online.” She shoots our uncle a scathing look. “Happy now?”
Purgatory is the nickname Cobie created for the all girls preparatory academy she’s attended for the last four years. Well, three and a half, technically.
“What do you mean, banished?” Ford questions.
“Would’ve been expelled if your dad hadn’t intervened,” Judge mumbles.
With a gasp of outrage, Cobie tosses her hands in the air. “Hey! I thought you said you’d keep it between us!”
“What’d you do, Cobes?” Hawke pushes. I don’t miss the amusement in his voice. Pretty sure the girl could commit murder, and we’d all find a way to see it as cute instead of sinister.
“Well…” She grimaces. “I may or may not have accidentally burned down half the dorms, but how was I supposed to know vanilla scented candles can burn stuff down if you leave them unattended? It was in a glass container!”
Dropping my head toward the ceiling, I groan, “Coooobes.”
“I know, okay?” She stomps her foot and folds her arms. “I know I screwed up, and I’m sorry.” She scowls at our uncle again. “I told you I’d get another lecture.”
“They also never found a candle,” Judge adds, undeterred by her prickliness.
“Because it melted away!” she argues.
“Mm-hmm,” he grunts, folding his arms over his chest.
Never thought I’d see eye to eye with Judge, but I think he’s onto something.
Yeah, now I see the real problem. Our little angel of a sister is lying through her perfectly straight teeth.
Did the little shit start the fire on purpose?
If she did, she deserves a standing ovation.
Talk about pissing off our father. I glance at Hawke, curious if he’s thinking the same thing.
When the bastard feels my stare, his mouth curves up, confirming my suspicion.
“No more lectures,” Ford promises. “Besides, a burned down dorm is nothing compared to crossing into The Drift in Daddy Dearest’s eyes, so you’re still the angel of the family.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure,” she pouts. “Dad was so mad I’m pretty sure he thinks I traded in my halo for a pair of devil horns.”
“Always the overachiever,” I quip.
She gives me her signature wide grin, her eyes crinkling in the corners.
“Always.” Threading her fingers behind her lower back, she rocks back on her heels and turns to the elephant in the room.
“Hey, Romeo.” Cobie’s smile turns shy. I almost forget.
Her interactions with the opposite sex have been limited to blood ties since she was twelve.
I always blamed our overprotective father, but if I’m being honest, I doubt growing up with three older brothers has been much of a picnic for the girl.
I cast a quick glance at Hawke, who’s already looking at Ford, who’s busy staring at our best friend.
She’s been calling Roman Romeo since she was a little kid.
Ford tried it once, and the right hook he suffered knocked him out cold.
Since then, none of us have dared to tease him about the nickname.
But when Cobie says it? The guy stays quiet.
I’ve always wondered if it’s because of the age difference.
If he looks at her like a little sister, too, and doesn’t want to hurt her feelings by calling her out for something so trivial.
It’s not really any of my business. If Roman doesn’t care, then I shouldn’t, either.
But it is a question I always find intriguing.
Watching their relationship, I wonder if it’s how we look around her, too.
Giving in and bending over backwards, well aware she has each of us wrapped around her pretty little finger.
“Cobie,” Roman says in greeting.
“How are you?” she asks.
“Fine. You?”
“I’m okay. How’s Rafe?” she adds, mentioning Roman’s older brother who’s in prison.
Most don’t remember Roman’s connection to Rafe Stone.
Between Rafe being locked up for as long as he has and Roman staying in Harden territory when he isn’t sleuthing for us, it’s easy to forget what his life was like before we became brothers.
Roman almost smiles. “He’s doing good.”
“Yeah?”
Roman nods. “Real good.”
“How long you staying, Cobes?” I ask.
She peeks at Judge. “How long am I staying, Uncle Judge?”
It shouldn’t be a question someone who’s over eighteen should have to ask, even if she is technically still a senior in high school.
At least for another few months. Since she’s finishing her schooling online, she should be allowed to go where she wants.
Stay where she wants. Do what she wants.
Instead, she’s still firmly under our father’s thumb.
The reminder makes my fists tighten at my sides.
“Why don’t you go unpack,” Judge suggests.
She makes a face, but doesn’t argue, well aware it won’t get her anywhere.
“Guess that’s my cue.” Rising onto her tiptoes, she kisses my cheek.
“Missed you.” Then she skips toward Hawke and Ford.
“Missed you,” she says to Hawke. “And you,” she adds, kissing both their cheeks so everyone feels seen.
Darting over to Judge, she does the same to him. “Thanks for the ride, Uncle Judge.”
“Anytime, Cobes. You know that.”
“Mm-hmm,” she hums. “Still appreciate it.” Peeking over at Rome, she sucks her lips between her teeth and sways toward him, her movements as graceful as they are shy.
Seriously, I gotta keep an eye on this girl or she’ll be eaten alive.
“Good to see you, Romeo.” Slowly, she rises onto her tiptoes, the same way she had with the rest of us, and kisses his cheek as he stands there, motionless.
Once her heels hit the ground, he mutters, “You too, Pips.”
She tucks her hair behind her ear, tossing another smile to each of us, then skips up the stairs like the ray of sunshine she is.
“Well this is a surprise,” Ford announces.
Judge scrubs his hand over his face. “Yeah, your dad wasn’t too happy about it, either.”
“What? He’s disappointed he can’t hold family time over our heads like he used to?” I ask.
“Nah, he’s disappointed he had to hand over a blank check to cover the damages for her candle incident.”
I rub the corner of my mouth, hiding my amusement.
“Keep an eye on her, all right?” he adds. “I know shit hasn’t turned sour with you and Gus, yet, but…”
“Who’s Gus?” I ask.
His gaze narrows. “If he can convince you idiots to strike up a deal with him, and get his niece on the pole, what do you think he’d like to do to a sweet girl like her?”
“She’s barely eighteen,” Hawke points out.
“You really think her age would stop a guy like Gus?” His brow arches. “I’m only saying she’s pretty, young, naive, and when she sees how much fun you boys have pissing off your father, she might get a wrong idea or two.”
“Gee, thanks,” Ford grumbles.
“Just…keep an eye on her, all right?” he mutters. “One more thing.” He gives each of us a pointed look. “Next time your father calls, answer the phone the first time. I’m tired of listening to his bitching.” Then, he opens the door and walks outside, leaving nothing but a cold silence behind him.
“Would you look at that.” Ford collapses onto the couch. “Seems Uncle Judge is getting sick of Daddy Dearest’s bullshit, too.”
“Can you blame him?” I reply. “He’s supposed to be on tour, but he’s over here on babysitting duty, instead.”
“You ever wonder what Dad has on him?” Hawke questions.
“Other than the guilt over Rudy’s death?” Ford crosses one foot over the other on the coffee table in front of him. “Beats me.”
“I dunno,” Hawke mutters. “Feels like there’s more to it.” He shakes his head as if to dispel his circling thoughts. “By the way, Rome, did you see Morgan take any bets last night?” Roman shakes his head. “Neither did I,” Hawk reveals. He turns to Ford. “What about you?”
“Nothing,” Ford answers. “What about you, Jag?” He snaps his fingers. “Oh, wait. You couldn’t have seen Morgan take any bets because you bailed within the first hour.”
“Cut him some slack,” Roman mutters. “It’s not his fault Virgil showed up without an invitation.”
“True,” Ford concedes. “Look at the bright side. If none of us saw Morgan take any bets, then we should be in the clear, right? He’s not trying to steal our business from under our noses?”
Rubbing my jaw, I murmur, “Not sure if I’d go that far, but it’s a good sign for now. How was the race?”
Ford whistles. “Dude, you should’ve seen me fly across the finish line.” He kisses his fingertips like a seasoned chef. “It was glorious.”
“You’re lucky the Ferrari cut me off on the last turn,” Roman volleys.
Laughing, Ford waves him off. “Luck. Skill. Either way, I handed you your ass.”
“Whatever.” Roman rolls his eyes. “Speaking of last night, where’s Violet?”
Excellent question. I grit my teeth, muttering, “No idea.”
“Probably at work,” Ford offers. Seeing my surprise, he adds, “Not all of us were born with a silver spoon in our mouth, remember?”
The smartass has a point. She usually works mornings on the weekends, then buckles down and tackles homework afterward. It also makes sense why she didn’t wake me before leaving. Right? Or maybe it’s just my bruised ego talking. Only one way to find out.
With a slow nod, I jog toward the base of the stairs. “Hey, Cobes!” I call.
“Yeah?”
“How do you feel about grabbing some coffee?”
Her squeal echoes from the second floor. “Don’t toy with me, big brother.”
Hawke smirks. “I’ll take that as a yes.”
“Grab something for the rest of us, too,” Hawke adds. “The usual. I’m going to shower.”
“You want anything?” I ask Roman.
He shakes his head. “Nah. I’m gonna head out.”
“Where?” Ford asks.
“Just…” He grabs a spare coat hanging on the hook by the front door. “Out.”