10. Jasper
TEN
JASPER
Scarlett fidgets in the seat next to me, and it's so distracting that I lose my train of thought and turn down a wrong street.
Fucking hell. Who the fuck did that to her tires?
I don't believe her explanation for a second that it was some random teenagers.
Could there be an ex I'm not aware of? One that perhaps she's kicked to the curb and has lost his fucking mind, threatening an FBI agent? Threatening my fucking partner.
"Tell me about the scene and the victim." Her soft voice breaks through my spiralling thoughts, and causes me to release my death grip on the steering wheel.
I quickly glance in her direction and take in her features.
She's got exhaustion written all over. Did she even get some sleep, like I told her to do?
Dark, purple smudges stain the delicate tissue below her mocha eyes.
Her skin looks pale, with a tinge to it as if she's not feeling well, and her hair's not neatly combed today.
Instead, it's pulled back into a hasty ponytail at the base of her neck.
Her lips are raw and red, as if she's been biting them, and she can't seem to stop moving, as if something is causing her anxiety.
Again, the thought that it could be someone threatening her, some fucker out there that thinks he can get away with it, renews the rage I'm feeling.
Fuck, she asked me a question, and I've allowed my mind to run off on a tangent.
I need to get my shit together. The situation we find ourselves in, with Ashmaker dropping bodies left and right, is precarious.
I meet her gaze, and my fingers flex with the desire to cradle her face, so instead I grip the wheel tighter and force myself to turn away.
"Male, late forties, family money with connections to the higher-ups.
He used fire again to cover his tracks. This guy was left in an alleyway, and it looks like he used trash to help the accelerant along. "
"Mutilation?" She questions, but there's no real curiosity in it; it's as if she's just going through the motions and asking the expected questions.
I allow my mind to trail back to a few hours ago when we parted ways at the office.
Was there something that I missed, something that would have led me to believe that she's in some danger?
The thought instantly turns my stomach, and makes me want to lock her in my vehicle and keep on driving, yet I know that's silly and foreign to me.
I don't have a hero complex, and I've never wanted to be anyone's white knight.
I glance down from the corner of my eye to see her fingers tightly grasped together, so much so that they're bloodless, and she's picking at her thumb without even realizing it. Tell me what happened to you, Scarlett. Tell me who hurt you and I'll make sure they fucking pay.
Yet, I know I can't say any of those things to her.
First, she'd probably sock me one right in the face for my impropriety.
Second, we don't have that type of relationship, and I'm not even sure we're friends.
"Yup, severed cock, Stephens is pretty sure it's lodged in the throat like the rest of them.
This guy is fucking sick, Lyssa. There has to be a connection that we're missing.
Why men? Why cut off their cocks? There's a message we're overlooking.
He's speaking to us. We're just not listening," I reply instead, sticking to the details of the case rather than the writhing feelings that are chewing me up from the inside out.
She clears her throat, and I once again can't stop myself from glancing in her direction. At least this time, she's busy looking out the window, and doesn't see the longing painted across my face like some pathetic sap. "The mayor is involved?"
"Yeah." I grimace, remembering the ass-chewing Director Shaw's already given me.
Not sure what the asshole wanted me to do, we can't go around protecting only the mayor's rich friends, and who the fuck would have guessed that Ashmaker would target one of them?
There's never been any indication that he was after anyone high-profile.
I should give her a fair warning on what we're about to walk into, it's only proper.
"The deceased's family was apparently a large donor to his campaign last year.
The heat and pressure to catch this guy are about to be turned up.
The reporters somehow caught wind of it, even before we managed to get the forensic team fully on-site.
It's a bloody zoo, and you need to prepare yourself, Lyssa.
The fingers are already being pointed in our direction as to why he hasn't been caught yet. "
For a moment, only thick silence fills the vehicle, and I can almost see the wheels turning in her intelligent head. She thinks this is a competition between us to see who will get promoted first, and to an extent, it is, but it's also become so much more.
There is something about Scarlett Lyssa, something I can't move past, no matter how hard I try.
I barely slept last night, with sinful dreams of her delectable mouth roaming over my feverish skin, before taking my throbbing cock deep in her throat.
While she stared up at me naked from her knees, those sexy shoes on her feet, as saliva and tears slid down her pretty face, and I rammed myself to the hilt inside her mouth.
I shift awkwardly in the seat, trying to disguise my hardening cock from her perceptive eyes, and focus back on the road.
I turn down the next alley, grateful now that we are almost there and I can stop breathing her tantalizing scent in.
"Who is the victim?" She questions as she leans forward in the seat, observing the crime scene from a distance, and assessing the chaos we're about to be neck-deep in.
The movement allows the collar of her shirt to gape forward, and I instantly bite down on the side of my cheek, to stifle my groan at getting a glimpse of her pale breasts in a nude lace bra.
"George Weston." I drop the bomb like an asshole and watch her reaction from the corner of my eye. "Yeah, of those Westons. He's the son and heir apparent to the fortune and companies."
She recovers her composure quickly, and that doesn't even surprise me.
Scarlett carries herself with frigidity and detachment, as if emotions are something she has no interest in.
Well, that's not exactly true; she has a wicked temper when she unleashes it, but it's just rare that she releases her tight grip on it.
It's one of the reasons I enjoy pushing her buttons so much, just so I can get a glimpse of it. "Anything different about this one?"
I consider her question for a moment and decide it's best to allow her to make her own observations.
Scarlett's brilliant at her job, not that I would ever openly praise her.
She picks up on small details that others, including me, have missed.
Only a fool would underestimate her to their peril.
"Not really, torture, mutilation, and dismemberment, then the fire to cover his tracks.
It's definitely Ashmaker." She instantly makes a displeased grimace that both amuses and annoys me.
"I know, don't call him that, but really, what else are we supposed to call this freak? He literally burns them to ash."
We pull up to the scene, and even through the closed doors and windows, we can hear the shouting from the eager reporters and curious spectators.
Fuck, I was hoping the local police would have better control of this by the time I returned with Scarlett.
She immediately gets out of the car, and I follow suit, coming around to her side.
She takes a few steps forward and seems to sway on her feet.
What the hell? "Lyssa?" I'm instantly at her side, reaching out to grab her arm to steady her, but she rights herself, and my hand drops in the air between us, with a pang of disappointment making its way through my chest.
Ah fuck, here we go. Shaw can't even wait for her to be past the reporters before he acts like a dick.
"What's this about your tires being slashed, Agent Lyssa?
" She instantly turns towards me, and if looks could kill, I'd be a dead agent.
I shift sideways, trying and failing to hide my look of delight at her fury.
God, Scarlett, sometimes it's too easy to make you mad.
That chip on your shoulder will end up sinking you, if you're not careful.
She directs her ferocious glint in my direction, and just to mess with her some more, I waggle my eyebrows back at her, until she purses her lips into a stiff line.
"Random vandalism, Sir. Probably just some street punks, nothing to worry about.
" I wonder if she knows how beautiful she looks when she's mad? Maybe I should tell her?
"I see, well, if you're not too occupied with your own life, Agent Lyssa, maybe you could do your fucking job and catch this asshole, before he kills another prominent member of our society.
" My gaze snaps to Director Shaw, and not for the first time, I want to punch the idiot straight in the mouth.
What the fuck is wrong with him? She's one of the best agents he has at the bureau.
My lips open ready to defend her, but I don't get the chance.
"Yes, Sir. I'll do my best." She nods graciously as she stomps off toward the command center without a glance backward.
"She's one of your best, you might want to remember that, Sir," I grit, following quickly in her wake.