chapter 3
He really shouldn't like kicking ass so much. After all, he'd been a cop once before. But there was something really satisfying about beating the shit out of some stalking asshole. Yeah, maybe it was vigilantism, but the cops would be called in the end. After he was long gone.
Who have you become?
Jonas shoved the question away. He didn't want to think about that right now. And yeah, okay, he might be taking some of his irritation and aggression out on this guy. His mind still ran through the reel of having to watch Mira walk into her apartment, back to her ex. Back to the man who had beaten her so bloody she'd had to practically crawl into Blake Security for help.
And he was just supposed to let that shit go?
Never mind that though. The asshole of the evening was none other than Clint Evans. He'd been stalking a girl named Clara Cole for the last two years. Clara's family had come to Blake Security six months ago to try to resolve the situation. The police didn't have much to go on.
Clara had been smart, kept a diary of all the times she thought she was being watched. The problem was that Clint was also smart. Or the luckiest fucking asshole on earth. He’d managed to stay off the police radar. And there was no probable cause. So the cops couldn't just bust in and go looking through his stuff. And all the while, he kept terrorizing that poor girl. Well, now it was time for him to be terrorized.
Jonas advanced on him and the guy tried to crawl backwards. "I told you guys I'd leave her alone."
Jonas cracked his neck. "See, that's the thing. You said you were going to leave her alone last time my boys came to talk to you. But instead of leaving her alone, we found you at her swim meet. You realize the girl is sixteen, right?"
The turd in front of him swallowed hard, his hands splashing into puddles as he scrambled to get away. "Look, she never told me she was sixteen."
"Did she have to tell you? After all, you were hanging around a high school when you first laid eyes on her.”
"Don’t make me sound like some kind of freak. I wasn't there for her. I was picking up my sister. Then I saw her. For all I knew she was eighteen. A senior, like my sister. So what? I've seen her around a few times. It's not a big deal."
Jonas just tsked. "No. No. No. You don't get to pretend like you had no idea. She was fourteen when you started stalking her. I've seen the pictures. She looked fourteen. Real young. So you don't get to pretend you had no idea how old she was. I mean, you even followed her on family vacations. Do you know what kind of sicko that makes you?" Jonas leaned close as he grabbed the guy by the shirt. "It makes you the kind of sick asshole that the guys in prison are gonna love."
The idiot’s eyes widened. "I swear. I never touched her. It was just a coincidence that I went to Key West when her family did."
That's right Buddy. Keep painting me a picture. One of the key reasons the police hadn't been able to do much was because they couldn't prove that he was there. That Clint was everywhere Clara said he was. Because it was always just a feeling. Clara would think she saw him out of the corner of her eye, or swear that he was somewhere. But the bastard was good at hiding. Right now, as he rambled on and on about how being where she was had been just a coincidence, he was giving the police everything they needed.
"I love how you say you never touched her, but you sure terrorized her, all right. And when the cops search your place tonight, they're going to find all kinds of pictures of her. Pictures Photoshopped into suggestive positions. You're a sick bastard."
And because he couldn't help it, Jonas closed his hand into a fist and popped the fucker in the nose.
Goddamn, that felt good. This isn't about Mira. Again he shoved away any thoughts of the woman who didn't want his help. Instead, he focused on the guy in front of him who was now trying to run. Damn it, why did they always try to run?
The guy crawled a few feet and then pushed himself up onto his hands and knees, and finally to his feet. Jonas let him think he was going to get away, because really, what was the fun if he didn't get to chase him down?
Why couldn't they ever run when he was wearing tennis shoes? No, instead he was wearing his brand new Italian loafers. And the jackass wanted to splash around in fucking puddles.
You didn't have to wear your loafers tonight. Yes, that was a good point. But he liked to look sharp. Not to mention they’d had a client meeting earlier.
His mother had taught him that clothes help you make the best first impression. They didn’t make the man, but they sure helped. It was a lesson he’d always carried with him close to his heart.
He didn't know he'd end up chasing after this asshole tonight, or he would have dressed for the occasion. He had a pair of four-hundred-dollar Nikes that would've gone great with a pair of black jeans and a black hoodie. So what? He liked shoes. Don't judge me.
"Dude, you're killing me with this running thing, and the splashing around in the puddles. Do you have any idea how much these shoes cost?"
He snatched the guy by the back of his shirt and dragged him around, slamming him into the brick wall of the alley. "Now come on. You must've seen where this was going. First, we have to track you down, and I'll give you credit: you're a slippery motherfucker. Next, we play nice and legal and get a restraining order. But like the fucking idiot you are, you still don’t listen. One of my boys shows up a few weeks ago and warns you to never go near her again. And I know Oskar; he hates guys like you. You probably got his temper all up, and he hates that. It’s not easy to get that guy to show emotion. Then we sent Matthias after you. You're lucky all he did was go after your bank accounts. That motherfucker could have killed you and not even blinked. Word is, Matthias left a lovely paper trail, so when the police come looking for you tonight, they’re going to find all the evidence they need to prove you’ve been stalking Clara."
"You … you … you can't do that. You don't have any proof. I was careful. I follow her, but I don't touch her. It's not illegal to fantasize about hurting someone as long as you never do it."
Thanks asshole, that's just what we needed.
"No. We didn't. Not until just now." Jonas tapped the breast pocket that held the recorder. “I do appreciate you fessing up to stalking her. It helps. Especially when the cops are gonna find this in your back pocket."
The guy looked around. "I don't see the cops."
"Oh, another few minutes alone with me and you'll be wishing they were here already."
"Look, we can work out a deal. I'll leave town. I’ll never come back again." The guy clutched Jonas's shirt, and Jonas dipped his head down to glare at the guy's grasp on his Brioni.
"I suggest you get your hands off my shirt. That's Brioni. You know that's a three-hundred-dollar shirt right?"
Asshole’s brows furrowed. "What?"
"Yeah, you break it, you buy it, so I suggest you loosen your grip."
But the idiot didn't feel like listening. And he clutched tighter. "Look, I'll make you a deal. Whatever you want. It's yours. I cannot go to jail. I'm scared. I'm not gonna make it. I was in juvie once. Do you know the kind of crazy people they have in there?"
"You mean crazy like you? I can't wait until some big dude named Bubba starts stalking you around the yard. Watching your every move, plotting to hurt you. And maybe I'll give him a little nudge and tell him you like little girls."
The guy clutched tighter and tugged. Jonas heard the tear, and then muttered a curse under his breath. "Motherfucker. Are you fucking serious right now?"
He popped the guy in the nose again and his head clanked back against the wall, making him groan. "That was for the fucking shirt." Then Jonas hit him again. "And that's for not listening the first time." He released another fist. "And that's for trying to hurt a little girl." Jonas couldn't stop.
You're getting out of control again. Dial it back. Dial it back now!
But he was too far gone. His mind went completely quiet as he let pure instinct take over. Guys like this didn't deserve to walk the earth.
But then there was a voice in his earpiece. "While this is fun and all, listening to you beat this guy's ass," Matthias said, "I've got JJ on the move. You're the closest. It looks like she's leaving work, but she's not getting in a cab like she’s supposed to. Can you swing by?"
Lucky for the idiot in his hands, Matthias had used the magic word. JJ. She needed him a lot more than he needed to keep kicking ass.
"Yeah, I'm on it."
After Matthias disconnected, Jonas glanced down. "Damn it. I love this shirt," he muttered as he dragged Clint’s limp body over to a light pole. He grabbed the recording device from his pocket and stuck it in Clint's back pocket after he wiped it down. And then he took a couple of zip ties and tied the douchebag to the pole.
The police would find enough information on Clint’s stalking to put him away for a long time. And, in case that wasn't enough, they'd get a search warrant for his house, and find all the pictures of Clara Cole. That should do it. Back in the day, he hadn't liked the idea of being a vigilante. But you're a long way from back in the day, aren't you?
He wasn't going to go back there. He had a new life now. One that Noah had given him. And with that new life came the mouthy blonde he needed to go rescue from herself.
As he walked back to the car, not only did he have to wrangle the demons of his past, he had to wrangle the sexy blonde demon that ran through his skull. JJ. Just the idea of seeing her right now made the blood in his veins run hot.
And like the traitor it was, his goddamn dick twitched in his pants. He needed to get that shit under control. He didn't even like her. She was all mouth and a huge pain in the ass.
But there were times he wanted to shut her up by kissing her. And his mind went a little lust drunk thinking about backing her up against a wall and burying himself inside her until she could only scream his fucking name.
Yeah, you need help. He knew it. But none of that shit was going to happen. The last thing on earth he was doing was touching Jessica Jones.
JJ’s feet hurt. Her back hurt. Her neck hurt. Hell, even her brain hurt. With a chuckle, she started to sing the song, “My neck, my back, my pussy … ” Yeah well, maybe it was better if she didn't think about her pussy and the lack of attention it was seeing these days. Her vibrator was getting a lot of airplay right now.
With Lucia only back part-time, she was having to pick up some of the slack and take over some styling duties for a couple of the fashion shows Adriana had coming.
Her specialty was makeup, but she still had a great eye, and experience doing some styling work. So Adriana was making good use of that.
But all of this extra work would be over soon. Lucia was coming back full-time in just a few weeks. And it wasn’t a moment too soon. Adriana was even going to let her bring the baby to work sometimes, which made just about every woman in the office happy. Seriously, Noah and Lucia made a pretty adorable baby.
Warmth spread out through JJ's body when she thought about Isabella. God, she loved that kid. All chubby cheeks and baby belly and cute toes. One day you’ll have one. Ha. Her subconscious thought it was a comedian. She was never keeping a guy long enough to even think about kids.
She had left work heading towards the penthouse and considered getting a cab, but it was a nice night and she needed fresh air before she was locked in.
She loved living there. She loved being mere steps away from her best friend. But what she didn't love were the constant, watchful eyes. And she understood that after some past events and the attempted kidnapping, it was for her own safety. Apparently having friends like Noah and the boys was a dangerous proposition. So she now lived in a fabulous penthouse rent-free. Unfortunately, that came with a slew of big-brother types. Seriously overprotective big-brother types. And one best friend and the most adorable baby on the planet. So she couldn't really complain about that.
But there were nights where she just needed time alone, for the love of Christ. And even though her feet hurt, she liked walking in the city at night. The hustle and bustle of the day quieted to an excited buzz for the evening.
The local bars were hopping for a Wednesday, filled with people who wanted to catch up with friends over dinner and drinks. As she passed a few, she could see couples sitting close together, heads bent towards each other or holding hands.
Would that ever be her? Not that she cared about any of that stuff. She wasn’t interested in holding some guy’s hand as they strolled around Central Park. Boring. She wasn't really a family and baby sort of person.
Except, you are.
Okay, fine. She was slightly green with envy whenever she saw Noah and Lucia together. And then with the baby. That was the icing on the jealousy cake. And it wasn’t real jealousy. It was more of a could-she-ever-have-that-herself? kind of pang. She knew the answer to that already.
No.
And she wasn’t hiding from her past. But every time she got close to someone, the nightmares would start, and she remembered what it was like to trust someone who did nothing but hurt her day after day. And she wasn’t interested in that any more.
So she’d dated a slew of guys that were never, ever going to go anywhere. She’d even dated a couple of guys that tried to go somewhere. Hell, one had actually proposed, and there was one she thought she might care about. But she couldn't love any of them. Every single one of them left her cold. Well, they left her bed warm for a moment or two, but after that she didn't really want to be with them.
Because none of them gets your blood pumping like Jonas does.
Dammit. She’d promised herself she wasn't going to think about him right now. Although maybe that's just what she needed. A fight with him, and then ten minutes of battery-operated boyfriend, and she’d be out of her little funk. Actually, that didn't sound like a bad idea.
Yeah, she was pathetic. But she had to take her pleasure somewhere. As she passed an empty boutique with the mannequin lit in the storefront window, the hairs on the back of her neck stood. JJ frowned, swearing she saw a shadow in the window, but when she turned around to look there was nobody there. Across the street a couple kissed. The guy picked the girl up and she kicked her feet out like a movie picture poster. It was cute. And not for you.
Still unable to shake her unease, she considered a cab but opted against it. She'd be at the penthouse soon. But she did start walking faster. When she rounded the corner at the next street, she heard footsteps tracking hers, moving at the same fast clip. A shiver ran up her spine.
She looked around again, and there was no one there, but a shadow slipped around the corner behind her. "Listen asshole, you should know I have a Taser. And a dick. You're going to be very unhappy if you try to do anything to me." She reached in her purse for some kind of weapon, but all she came up with was … Oh, hell. Her vibrator. Well, technically Lucia’s. Lucia had gotten it as a gag gift a while ago, but she’d been too scared to actually use it. The thing was HUGE! And purple. Honestly, no one’s vagina could accommodate that monster.
She’d tossed it in her cavernous purse the day before the fire and had never taken the thing out. Well now it was her weapon, and hey, look at that. It was actually a dick, so that part was true. Maybe she could get Matthias to rig it as some kind of Taser too.
While it might do the trick to get her off—hey, sometimes she needed to take the Jonas edge off—it was not gonna do much against a would be attacker.
What was she gonna do, orgasm him to death? La petite mort indeed. Fuck it, she was ready for this asshole.
But there was no one there.
Jesus, she was losing it. She turned back to head to the penthouse, and stopped short, even as the knot of fear lodged in her throat.
She thought she recognized the car that had pulled up on the corner across the street, as well as the man driving it. This meant trouble. She only had one choice: run faster.