34. Jasper
THIRTY-FOUR
JASPER
I'm still fuming that I got delayed by Stephens, instead of coming straight back to Scarlett's house to check on her, and get those answers I desperately require.
Hours have gone by since my altercation with that slimy cunt, Xavier Poine, and I was notified he was released from custody with no charge pending.
Is it too much to ask that they lock him up and throw away the fucking key?
My face hurts from his punches, I'm exhausted and starving, but what I hunger for isn't food. It's a five-foot-five, dark-haired beauty that has more secrets than the Mariana Trench.
"See if she's willing to tell you the truth, and if you can still look at her the same way. I won't ever leave her, Jasper Garnier, and I won't allow you to stand in my way, either."
Xavier's words run a vicious cycle through my mind.
What could he possibly know about my little vixen that would cause me to look at her differently?
As for his determination to pursue her, and place himself between us, he underestimates how unhinged my feelings for Scarlett are, and what lengths I'll go to, to make sure he stops breathing.
I pull into Scarlett's driveway, and notice with relief that the body shop finally came to pick up her vehicle to replace the wheels.
I file away a reminder to look into who did that to her car.
Dammit, there aren't enough hours in the day to do everything I need to get done.
Especially with this psycho dropping bodies right, left, and center.
Anticipation, at getting to see my little vixen, mixes with worry that all the lights are still off, as I make my way up her porch and let myself into her house, with the key I snagged from her purse before I left. Could she still be sleeping? Shit, what if she was ill while I was gone?
I race through her entryway further into the house, her name a stifled shout on the tip of my tongue.
The lights are all off as I head to her bedroom, my heart hammering in my chest like a war drum, a heavy, sour feeling I can't quite name in the pit of my stomach.
My hand tightens on the knob, various questions I want to ask her running through my mind, but those can all wait while I make sure she's alright.
Guilt eats at me that I'm an asshole. She was ill, and I left her alone for so many hours without coming back to check on her.
What kind of man does that to the woman they're infatuated with?
That thought brings me to a pause; is that all it is between me and her, infatuation?
It feels like that word is not strong enough to describe the overwhelming feelings I have for Scarlett Lyssa.
No, I'm way past infatuation. I would dare say even long past obsession.
Scarlett has made a home deep under my skin, a place no woman has ever occupied.
This is not only about attraction or even sex.
I can't seem to take a breath without her anymore.
It's like she's rewired my brain chemistry, and everything that used to be a priority now pales in the face of my need for her.
I turn the knob and quietly creep into the darkened room, not willing to wake her just yet if she is still sleeping.
My gaze trails over the shadows, confirming everything seems the same as when I left.
I make my way over to her bed, and am instantly brought to a halt.
Instead of finding her delectable, warm body encased in the sheets and blankets, they're tangled and messily thrown back, and the bed is empty. What the fuck?
I quickly turn on the table lamp and look around, only silence and the rushing of my blood in my ears greeting me.
My glance makes its way to the partially closed bathroom door.
I shove it open all the way, fear riding me that maybe she's lying sick on the floor, but only the empty space greets me, sunlight streaming through the frosted window above the toilet.
My hurried gaze makes quick work of inventorying the scene, and I notice contents spilled on the floor and left discarded.
The area rug is bunched up as if it's been pushed aside, and the toilet seat is up, the faint sour smell of vomit permeating the air. Shit.
"Where the fuck is she?" I whisper, as I race out of the room and search the rest of her small house, but I can't find her or her purse.
I pull out my phone and quickly log into the app I hid on her phone earlier while she slept.
There was no fucking way I was letting her go missing again without knowing where she was, especially with Ashmaker still out on the loose.
Yeah, sure, it was because of Ashmaker, and not the malevolent rage you felt at her sleeping with Xavier, my mind calls me out instantly on my bullshit.
It doesn't matter; it was for her own good, and thank fuck too, because now it will come in handy, without me having to use bureau resources to track her.
Do I feel even the slightest bit guilty using these underhanded tactics with her? Not even in the slightest.
The little blue dot glares back at me steadily from my screen, the position located somewhere close to the industrial area of town.
What the hell is she doing out there all alone?
Then it hits me, maybe she's not alone. She's either working an angle on our case, and didn't bother to contact me, or she's with him.
When I had Douglas previously provide me with Xavier Poine's address, I ran into a snag when I made my way to the location, after finding her abandoned purse at the restaurant, ready to beat his ass.
An empty, fenced construction lot for a high-rise in progress greeted me.
Nothing else was listed anywhere, not on his driver's license, tax returns, or even on his employment records.
I made poor Douglas tear them apart to look, leaving no stone unturned.
The man's current residence couldn't be found anywhere.
Could this be where that snake lives? If it is, why would Scarlett go back there after what he did to her?
My hand tightens on the phone, a wall of heat-filled wrath washing over me.
None of this is making sense. She was covered in his fucking marks, and despite stating she consented, I don't completely buy that shit.
Yes, Scarlett seems to enjoy a little pain and depravity with sex, but the condition she was in, that was something else.
There was barely an inch on her body that wasn't tainted by him.
She also knows that he could ultimately ruin her career. Could that be what's driving her back to him? Maybe she's worried he'll do just that, but if that were the case, why wouldn't she just talk to me about it? Together we could have figured out a way to ensure he kept his mouth shut.
I slam the door shut behind me and head to my car, ready to find my girl.
I don't care what it takes, but I'm determined to keep her away from him.
Fuck, this day has been total shit. All I wanted to do was crawl back into bed, wrap my arms around her, and lose myself in Scarlett, after having to deal with the new crispy body Ashmaker left for us.
Her sweet moans have been whispering in my head all day, a temptation that I wanted nothing more than to give myself over to.
Instead, my girl is missing, and I'm having to chase her halfway across the city. She might be with a man who has a hold on her I don't understand. How far am I willing to take this? I question myself, while the blue dot remains firmly in place on the screen as I speed down her street.
I release a pent-up growl of frustration.
I should be focused on this case and catching this maniac, but instead, I'm playing an outraged boyfriend to a woman I'm not even sure truly wants me the way I want her.
I slam my hands on the steering wheel at the next red light, fighting with myself on whether to continue forward and find her, or cut my losses and walk away.
I can't let her go. The answer sucker-punches me straight in the middle of the chest, trapping my breath in the process.
I never thought I would be one of those men who becomes completely obsessed with a woman.
Yet, here I am, quickly losing my mind over her, and doing things thoroughly out of character, like breaking into her house, tracking her phone, and chasing her through the city.
Fuck, I'm becoming everything I've always sworn to hate.
I drag my fingers through my dark hair, knowing I'm at a crossroads in my life.
One winding road leads straight to madness, with Scarlett Lyssa right at the center of it, and a huge drop that might leave me broken or dead at the end of it.
The other path takes me away from her, and I keep going the way I always have: one-night stands, encounters with women who mean nothing to me, with my career as my focus.
I don't hesitate any further, heading straight for the blue dot, knowing there's no turning back now. It's Scarlett or nothing.