Jasper

Sam Pendleton had put the gang together when we were just juniors in high school, and at the time, it hadn’t been serious. But as we grew older and took our turns enlisting and spending time overseas, we needed something we could come home to, a group of people who understood us. So, even as we’d started adulting – with jobs and families – the Wildcats had clung together, looking for all intents and purposes like a weekend warriors motorcycle club.

The truth was, we were smarter, tougher, and more emotionally involved than that.

So, my welcome home party when I’d been released was a big ordeal. Drunkenness, cards and pool, and a lot of clapping each other on the back, mixed with friendly insults, lewd comments, and a couple of brawls. Two weeks later, it was over, and now, I sat at the ‘clubhouse’ – an annex onto the woodshop Rick Flannery ran – with the five other guys who had been part of the crew from the beginning.

“You got the guy off your tail, then?” Eric McVane asked, his dark brows furrowed as he slouched in the recliner, brooding.

“He won’t be back,” I assured him. Eric had a little PTSD, having been too close to too many explosions in the Middle East. It made him surly and paranoid on most days and antisocial to the point of agoraphobic on others. We tread lightly with him as much as we could, but we all had our trauma, including me, and we didn’t make excuses.

“So, we need to start putting together a plan.” Jake Rondo sat forward, tapping against the glass of his Coke bottle with an eager expression. “I mean, we’re all running low on cash now, so it’s time to get busy.”

“Speak for yourself,” Tyler Beatty scoffed. “It’s not our fault you spent it all on strippers and beer instead of investing. I’m not hurting for money, and I’m not in any hurry to be up to my neck in a scheme that’s going to get me locked up. I doubt Jasper’s in the mood to run an operation, either.”

I listened to the conversation and knew what I was expected to say. Apparently, none of them were all too grateful for me taking the fall last time around, or they would have gone on about their own business instead of trying to drag me back down that dark tunnel. I really had no interest in another art heist, and I definitely didn’t want to get into illegal trade like so many other MCs. But I shrugged, trying not to play my cards just yet. “Look, I don’t know. I might be up for it, if the plan and execution are solid. But I have to fly straight for a while to make sure my parole officer doesn’t get suspicious.”

“How long is a while?” Jake asked, ever the impatient one.

I scrubbed a hand down my face, wincing at how fast the stubble had grown. I’d just shaved yesterday morning, and I was already as prickly as a porcupine. Something about the New York City air, or maybe just the sunshine overhead that didn’t stink of prison. Hell, it could have been eating actual meals and having a beer or two. Either way, I didn’t like the stubble. While my hair had stayed a nice, deep brown, the whiskers showed signs of age with a few white and red speckles.

“I’m talking five, six months. I have to show promise or he’ll be on my ass. Then, we’re all locked up for the rest of our lives. It’s for the best, for all of us.”

“We could run some smaller projects,” Rick suggested. “Maybe some jewels or something.”

Sam, who’d been suspiciously quiet this whole time, snorted. “Okay, Bodie, why don’t you just get us some president masks, and we’ll start robbing banks? That’s movie shit, and we’re not going there.” He pointed to Jake. “You start looking at ideas. We all know it takes time to plan something like this. We’ll stake out a couple of opportunities, and when we decide on one, we’ll take our time and plan it right. If you’re low on cash, Jake, get a fucking job.”

Tyler sniggered, and I stood. “That’s the right idea. And on that note, I’m out. I’ll see you later, bro.” I gave a weak salute and went through the front of the store to exit.

And saw the Mercedes across the street right away.

I lit a cigarette, pretending not to notice as I walked away. But no one in the Bronx drove a Mercedes, and it stuck out like a sore thumb. Not that it mattered. I’d spotted her on foot two days ago, following me around. Admittedly, she was better than the other PI, but not that good. And her pretty face was hard to ignore.

I don’t know why I hadn’t mentioned her to the guys. Then again, they’d asked about Wesley Morton, not tails in general. And maybe a part of me had a soft spot for women. After spending eight years without seeing a pretty girl, I didn’t want to risk the guys taking matters into their own hands and scaring her. Besides, she was smoking hot from head to toe, and as long as she was following me, I had a nice view.

Sighing to myself and wondering how long I was going to let this go on, I climbed on my bike and took my time getting on the road, watching the black Mercedes and wondering if that was ‘slumming’ for her. After all, she’d inherited her father’s estate, which last I knew, was worth more than $18 billion, not including the art collection that no one could accurately value. Stephen Cohen had made sure no one knew every painting and statue he’d collected.

Except me.

I’d never shared that information with anyone, and I never would. Hell, I didn’t even know if Cohen’s daughter had kept all of them after his death. I hadn’t had time to do a lot of homework on her before she’d replaced her PI, dogging my heels. I’d left his apartment at six in the morning the day after I dismissed Wesley Morton, and she’d been on me from that point forward. She wore all black, all the time, and while it flattered her figure, I thought it was a little comical.

I drove north with her two cars behind, and I made sure she could follow easily, signaling with each turn and making sure there was space for her to follow me around lefts. I didn’t go straight home, though. I decided to stop for coffee at the bodega downstairs from my third floor walkup. I missed my house in Yonkers, missed the memories there, but I’d sold it years ago, letting Sam handle the finances so I’d have something to use when I got out.

I ordered an Americano and a caramel cappuccino, with a pastry I wolfed down and a bagel with cream cheese. When I left the building, I spotted the glint off the luxury car immediately, a block down and facing away from me. She obviously expected me to go home, parked almost directly in front of my front door. But I wanted to see just how determined she was and how hard it would be to scare her away.

Mina

One thing I’d learned over the last two days was that Jasper Cunningham never stopped moving, and following him was truly exhausting. But as he pulled into the parking lot across from his building, I relaxed and parked. He didn’t seem to spend much time in this neighborhood unless he was going home, so even when he didn’t go straight upstairs, I settled in for a long wait. He’d get something from the store, and as long as I kept my eye on the entrance to his apartment building, I’d know where he was.

I knew he had friends in an unofficial motorcycle club, but I couldn’t find any implications that they were involved in anything illegal. And Cunningham’s job as a bouncer seemed to be legit. I couldn’t fault him for getting the work, since the sort of felony charge he carried couldn’t make it easy to find work. But I was definitely angry that he was sliding back into regular society so easily. I just wanted to see him locked up, where he suffered for what he did to Daddy and couldn’t do it to anyone else.

I jumped as the passenger door to my car opened and would have pulled my taser while chiding myself for not locking it had I not been terrified. And it didn’t get any better when the intruder lowered himself into the seat and closed the door behind him. He held two paper coffee cups and a paper bag. “I thought you might be hungry,” he said, holding out one of the cups and the bag to me.

“Get out of my car!” I cried at him, my righteous anger riding above my fear.

“I guess I was right,” he smirked. “You’re actually hangry. Here, eat this, and you’ll be more welcoming.” He shoved it toward me so I had to take it or risk the hot liquid spilling all over my cashmere sweater.

“I said, get out of my car before I call the cops.”

He clucked his tongue and shook his head. “I’m sorry, but I think that would be a very bad idea, since I would just press charges for stalking. And when I tell them you’re the daughter of the man who caught me trying to steal his paintings, they’ll believe me.”

I blinked at him, my mouth moving but nothing coming out. I couldn’t figure out how Jasper Cunningham had made me, and I certainly didn’t know how he recognized me. I’d been fifteen when the trial started, sixteen when he was sentenced. And I was a late bloomer. I’d looked like Olive Oil from Popeye back then, and I liked to think I’d morphed into a butterfly in my early twenties. The fact that he knew who I was devastated me. And pissed me off.

He shrugged. “I have to say, I remember a sad little teenager, but you’ve matured nicely.” His eyes roamed up and down my body, and I stiffened. He had no right to look at me that way! “Who’s the lucky man who gets to touch you every night?”

“Shut your filthy mouth, and don’t look at me like that!” I was seething, and it came out more as a hiss than anything. Having him this close sparked so many emotions in me, I could hardly control myself. I wanted to lash out and tear up his face, beat him bloody. But the man I remembered wasn’t quite this hard and toned. He’d made use of his time in prison, and his body was finely etched with muscle, his face narrower with sharper angles, set off by the shadow over his chin and cheeks.

And the blue of his eyes sparked a stormy gray when he was angry, as he was now. “I just brought you food because you haven’t eaten since seven this morning, and that’s how you repay me?”

“How do you know I haven’t eaten?” I retorted.

He snorted. “Because you’ve been following me since six, and that was the last time I ate. You had some sort of oatmeal sludge stuff and an apple. It’s a great start to the day, but it’s after two now. You should replenish.”

I couldn’t understand why he cared, but the coffee smelled delicious, sweet and inviting, so I took a sip. It hit my empty stomach with an unexpected warmth, and I peeked inside the bag. A bagel. My stomach growled. “I’m not stalking you,” I told him, sounding like some petty little girl.

“Then tell me why you’re following me.” He rolled down the window, putting a cigarette in his mouth.

“Can you not smoke in my car?” I groused, reluctantly taking a bite of the bagel – fresh and layered with whipped cream cheese.

He hesitated, then shrugged. “Well, I can wait a few minutes, but I suggest you tell me quickly why you’ve been stalking me for two days – and had a really bad PI doing the same before that – or all bets are off.”

The car was new and still smelled like the leather interior. I didn’t want anything screwing that up, but I didn’t know how to get rid of him. This man was a criminal, and I had to remember that. Criminals could be desperate people. If I didn’t tell him, there was no telling what he might do to try and get it out of me. And if I did, he might completely freak out on me.

But something didn’t add up. Wesley had sounded terrified, but so far, other than getting in my car uninvited, Jasper Cunningham hadn’t done anything scary or threatening. And unless he’d had time to poison my food or drink, he’d offered something kind, though he had no reason to be the least bit nice to me.

Thinking on my feet, I told him the first thing that came to mind. “I was curious.”

He raised an eyebrow at me and repeated, “Curious.”

I nodded. “You’re right, I was a kid when you went to prison, and I didn’t know anything about you. I just…I had to know the man who almost stole some of the most expensive paintings in the world from my father.”

He narrowed his eyes at me and nodded slowly. “I guess I can accept that. But you could have just introduced yourself and asked. And for what it’s worth, I’m sorry for what I put your family through.”

I stared at him, mouth agape like some fish out of water desperate for air. Had Jasper Cunningham just apologized? I knew I looked ridiculous, but I just couldn’t wrap my head around it. This man was so selfish, so bent on getting rich quick, that he hadn’t cared what happened to the people he stole from. He’d caused my father’s heart attack. Daddy was dead because of him. Men like Jasper Cunningham didn’t apologize.

I guess my silence bothered him because he started talking, as if to fill the awkward air between us. “I didn’t mean to scare you. Well, not really. I just wanted to catch you off guard because I could tell you underestimated me. So, are you still curious?”

My head was spinning, and I was barely following, so it took a minute to realize he’d asked me a question. “Curious. Yes, I’m still curious.”

He put on a teasing grin that completely disarmed me. Whatever else he was, no one could ever claim that Jasper Cunningham wasn’t drop dead gorgeous. He had that rugged handsomeness that came with being less than affluent, hard and tough and strong and masculine. He was everything my father would have hated anyway, everything he wanted to protect me from when I was in high school, the reason he’d insisted I go to an all-girl private school.

“Are you going to keep following me, then, or are you open to other options?”

I scowled. “Like what?”

He shrugged. “Have dinner with me. Get to know me for real.”

I didn’t know what to say to that. The last thing I wanted was to spend any time with this guy. But I couldn’t exactly keep following him. At this point, it would be stalking. If I wanted to catch him in the act and send him back behind bars for the rest of his miserable life, I really only had one choice. It took every bit of strength and determination I had to answer him. “I suppose I could have dinner with you. Once.” I wasn’t committing to anything else. After all, I could always find a better investigator. I just needed to buy the time to seek one out.

“That’s all I’m asking.” His grin broadened, showing off a row of bright white teeth. Why had I pictured a miscreant with blackened and missing teeth, rotting gums? I needed to check into dental care in the prison system. It might be better than the public sector. He held out his hand. “I guess proper introductions are in order, even if we do know each other on some level. I’m Jasper.”

I hesitated. I’d spent the last ten years of my life hating Jasper Cunningham. Did I really want to touch him? Since I wasn’t choking or gasping for breath from poison, I decided he’d redeemed himself enough that I could shake his hand. “Mina.” I didn’t make any other gestures or try to act like I was pleased to meet him or anything. I just wished he’d never come into my life at all. But I tried to be cordial.

“Mina. I like that. Well, Mina, I’m going to pick up your phone and send a text to mine so we have each other’s number. And I’ll call you later so we can set up the date.”

“It’s not a date,” I corrected him. “And text, don’t call. I don’t like talking on the phone.”

He rolled his eyes. “Everything changes. I thought women loved talking on the phone all the time. I apologize for being out of sync with the times. I’ve been a little sheltered for a few years.” The bitterness in his tone made me wonder if he regretted his actions because he’d gotten caught or if he’d truly repented. It wasn’t for me to figure out. I only had to send him back to jail, without passing go or collecting two hundred dollars.

I watched him type, then heard the ding of his phone as he received the text. “Just for future reference, Mina, you probably want to find a POS to drive out to the Bronx next time, or at least a standard Toyota or Nissan. The Mercedes is too flashy for the area.” That was his parting remark, and he got out, instantly lighting his cigarette and waving back to me over his shoulder.

I was speechless. What the hell had just happened? One minute, I’m tailing the heartless criminal who killed my father, and the next, he’s demanding answers and asking me to dinner. I really needed to find my balance before I lost perspective. Those icy blue eyes of his and that easy, charming grin could manipulate shit into diamonds and snow into gold. I certainly didn’t need to let my guard down and risk him softening my heart.