Strong Enough (Tall, Dark, and Dangerous #1)(25)

I can barely reach the pedals, as Jasper is probably a foot taller than me, and it takes me a few seconds to find the controls that will move the seat closer. When I finally shift into gear, I make a mental note of the time, subtracting a minute just to be on the safe side.

I drive around Dad’s neighborhood, grateful for the deeply tinted windows of Jasper’s car. They give me some amount of anonymity. As I inspect the passing scenery, I wonder vaguely what my highly educated, quietly competent, probably dangerous bounty hunter is looking for at the house. I also wonder what he might find. I don’t get far with either line of thought, so I abandon them both.

I’m in so far over my head that I have nothing except a whole slew of unanswered questions. At this point, I don’t even have any theories as to what might be going on. But maybe Jasper will return with something useful.

When the ten-minute mark is nearly upon me, I head back toward Alton Street, the one directly behind my father’s. I cruise slowly past each of the modest homes, noting toys in yards and dogs in driveways. I smile when I see Jasper pop out onto the sidewalk a few houses down. He’s walking casually, hands stuffed in his pockets like he might be going to the neighbors’ for a barbecue. All that’s missing is pursed lips as though he’s whistling. But on Jasper that would be overkill. He doesn’t have to say a word for it to be clear that he’s not the carefree whistling type. He’s too intense for that. Too alert and guarded and . . . dark. It’s something he exudes like Marilyn Monroe exuded sex appeal. It’s not something he works at. It’s just something he is.

I slow as I approach. He smiles the polite smile I’ve seen him give others, the one that says I’m pleasant, but I don’t want to be bothered. It’s very effective. And it’s very intriguing. I’m sure that nearly everyone who sees it wants to know more about the man who wears it. I’m equally sure that not one of them dares to ask.

He slides into the passenger seat and I accelerate down the road. At the stop sign, I make a right, turning away from my father’s street. I pause at the yield sign and bear left. It’s then that I see a police cruiser heading toward my father’s place. Jasper timed it perfectly. Not that I’m surprised.

“What did you find out?”

Eyes locked on the road, Jasper points to a gas station up ahead. “Pull in there. We need gas.”

I swallow my sigh and do as he asks. While he’s pumping the gas, I push his seat back to its previous position and walk around the front of the car to climb into my side. I wait patiently as he goes into the convenience store and I wait patiently as he unpacks a small plastic bag of snacks upon his return.

“I got you a bag of those chips you like. And the water you drink.”

I ignore his thoughtfulness. I overlook how observant he’s been. I have one thing on my mind.

“Thanks,” I say, biding my time until we are back on the highway and he can’t put me off any longer. And as soon as we are, I find that I can hold my tongue no longer. “Tell me, Jasper.”

As the seconds stretch between us, thin and fragile, I feel my throat constrict and tears burn the backs of my eyes. He’s stalling. And the only reason he’d stall is because he has bad news.

My chest feels like it might collapse, crushing every vital organ behind it. I press the heel of my hand into the center to ease the panicky discomfort.

“Are you okay?” Jasper asks, a frown on his face and a small thread of concern in his voice.

“Not really. Just tell me. Don’t sugarcoat it or beat around the bush. I have to know and I have to know right now.”

“Your father is fine,” he says, unscrewing the cap of his own water and taking a long sip like we’re discussing nothing more important than the weather.

My heart stutters for a few beats before it picks back up at a rapid pace. I’m almost afraid to get too excited, certain that I must’ve misunderstood him.

“Wh-what?”

“I said I’m sure he’s fine.”

“How do you know?”

“Well, to most people, it looks like he’s just out for the day. Working, running errands, whatever he does. Bed’s made, toothbrush is in its holder, mail’s on the counter, coffee cup’s in the sink. But to someone who looks more closely, it seems like he left with no intention of coming back right away. Yes, his toothbrush is there, but his razor is gone. Men can use any kind of toothbrush, but a good razor is hard to find. There’s a gun safe on the top shelf of his closet that still has a revolver in it, locked up tight. But there’s another one behind a box of pictures in the back corner that’s empty. He left the obvious one and took the hidden one. As for how he left, the vehicle’s gone, but the automatic garage door opener cable has been disabled. There are no signs of him being forcibly taken from there either. So I’d say he left for good reason and that he’s holed up somewhere.”

“You don’t sound surprised.”

Jasper shrugs. “I’m not. There’s a reason he’s juicing up that apartment in Atlanta.”

I feel overwhelming relief. That would explain why he wasn’t there when I called. And maybe why he hasn’t called me either. If he’s hiding out, he’d want to keep me out of danger. A giddy laugh bubbles up in my throat like a Halloween concoction might bubble in a witch’s cauldron. I’m afraid to get too excited, though, to let my guard all the way down. “And you’re sure?”