Strong Enough (Tall, Dark, and Dangerous #1)(26)
“Well obviously I can’t be one hundred percent certain until I knock on the door of that apartment and he answers the door, but I’m reasonably sure.”
I digest his words. I consider them carefully. I consider the source, too. His expertise, his confidence, his calm demeanor. And without really making a conscious decision to do it, I take the leap and I trust Jasper. Trust his judgment, trust his words. Trust him.
It’s not until later that I realize just exactly what I’ve done. And how much it would hurt me.
FOURTEEN
Jasper
Muse is quiet on the drive to Atlanta. Her nervous energy, however, fills the cabin with so much silent noise it’s hard for me to think. She’s tapped her foot, twirled her hair, clicked her fingernails and probably rubbed a raw spot on her palm with the thumb of her other hand. She hasn’t made much actual sound, but I can hear her nonetheless.
If I could ignore her, I’d be much better off. I could think. And plan. But I can’t. Somehow, she got under my skin and that’s screwing up everything. I have a job to do. Right after I get some answers that I need. And for the first time in my adult life, I find myself putting off the inevitable rather than just embracing it.
I’ve always put duty above all else. Some people are just built that way. I’m one of those people. You can imagine that the first time I’m tempted to veer from the straight and narrow path I follow comes as somewhat of a surprise. And very little surprises me.
Three and a half hours later, I’m pulling into the gravel lot of a club named Dual. I left a message on Gavin Gibson’s cell phone. There’s a possibility that I might need some help and I wanted to talk to him. He’s a good resource and I trust him to some degree. More than I trust most people, I guess. We have an . . . understanding. The kind of understanding few people would comprehend or approve of. We lend a hand in certain types of situations. The next time he needs a favor, he’ll call and I’ll do my best to help. It’s sort of like an unspoken pact.
Usually I find that making final plans for one of my jobs gives me a peaceful edge, a clinical nonchalance about death that keeps me calm and rational and quick. Deadly quick. I’m making them early this time. Why? Because for the first time that I can ever remember, I’m thinking of stalling, so I’m making it harder. For me. Harder for me to stall, to reconsider following through. I’ve never had to thwart myself before, never had to tie my own hands. But I can’t trust my own intentions anymore. They’re too wrapped up in a fiery redhead that I can’t stop thinking about.
Maybe it’s because of who she is. Maybe it’s because of the way I’m having to go about this. Maybe it’s because she’s actually a decent person. Or maybe it’s something I haven’t even thought of. I don’t have an answer. I only have a potential problem. And problems of any kind are never a good thing. Not in my line of work. I make sure to deal with them decisively and immediately. It’s just one more thing that makes me the best at what I do.
When I cut the engine, Muse finally tears her eyes away from the passing landscape and glances straight ahead. “Where are we?” Her puckered brow shows her confusion.
“Atlanta.”
“But why are we at a club?”
“I need to speak to someone here. I won’t be long. Stay put. Keep the door locked.”
I get out and slam the door shut before she can ask any more questions. Not that she’d really expect an answer at this point. I just feel like her inquisitiveness would only aggravate the way I’m feeling. And that’s a liability I can’t afford.
Once inside, I glance around the interior of the club. A few dozen people are crammed onto a dance floor, rubbing against one another. I’ve never understood their desire to do that. I’m more of a loner, a “let me take you into a dark corner” kind of man. Plus, I don’t like crowds. I’d never work in a place like this, but I can see how Gavin does. He’s a congenial kind of guy. You’d never know by talking to him that if you cross him or someone he loves, he can be one sadistic son of a bitch. I guess we all hide our real selves behind some kind of mask. Mine is one of indifference.
I make my way toward the back-lit bar that stretches out to the left. Doesn’t look like much has changed. There were two hot bartenders back there the last time I was here. There are three tonight, which makes sense for a weekend. I remember two of them. I never forget a face, especially dangerous ones and beautiful ones. And this one is beautiful.
A pale oval face smiles out from a long, straight sheet of dark hair. Olivia. She’s petite in a voluptuous way, a lot like Muse. But while this girl is beautiful, she has zero effect on me. The only thing that’s making my dick hard lately is a talkative redhead with jewel-green eyes and a body that begs a man to tear it apart with lips and tongue, piece by delicious piece.
Dark eyes meet mine and she smiles. I nod at her and she looks away, tipping her head in the direction of the back of the club. I follow her gesture and see her husband standing in the doorway of his office. His name is Cash Davenport. Gavin’s boss and the owner of this place. I make my way through the crush of bodies, aiming for him.
I glance back at Olivia to nod my thanks. She winks at me and then slides her eyes back to her husband as she deftly mixes a drink in a silver shaker.
As I approach Cash, I can see that he’s still looking at his wife. The expression on his face reminds me of the way a man might look at the sun when he sees it for the first time, when he’s spent his whole life in the dark. They’re that kind of couple, the kind that nothing comes between. The kind that lasts forever. The kind that survives anything. And they’ve had their fair share of obstacles to overcome. The thing is, they’re tighter than ever, it seems. More in love than ever.