Strong Enough (Tall, Dark, and Dangerous #1)(55)

“How did you know Jasper would take it?”

“I know all about him. I’m in IT, remember? Information is my specialty, Muse. And Jasper King has a file a mile long. I know how good he is at his job, how seriously he takes his assignments. No matter what his feelings are for the Colonel, I knew he’d come for him. I am a little surprised that he’s let you live this long, though.”

Let me live? This long?

Thud, thud, thud. The beat of my heart is so heavy, I can’t be sure that Matt doesn’t hear it.

“Wh-what do you mean?”

“Don’t tell me you haven’t figured that out yet.” Matt clucks his tongue and shakes his head in pity. “Poor Muse. Didn’t even know the man she’s been screwing plans to kill her. Wow, that’s gotta suck. But the hit was on you, too. I couldn’t be sure how much you knew, how much your father might’ve told you about what he was discovering. So I included you in the mission. Jasper was sent to kill you, too.”

He’s lying! He’s lying, he’s lying, he’s lying! I chant to myself, closing my eyes against the smug smirk on his face. I wish now that the moon wasn’t shining so brightly, that I couldn’t see so clearly. Without or within.

But that’s not the case. There’s no more hiding or pretending or not seeing anymore. All sorts of little things about Jasper are coming together to make perfect sense now—the reticence, the subtle sadness, the odd comments. The guilt—it all paints a perfect picture. I just couldn’t see it until now. I didn’t want to.

“Of course, I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that you didn’t catch on to King. I mean, damn! You haven’t even caught on to who your mom was and what dear old Dad did to her, and you’ve had years to figure that shit out.” While my brain is whirling and my heart is withering, I open my eyes and fix them on Matt, who shakes his head woefully. “You sure didn’t inherit the Colonel’s brains, did you?”

I feel like the boat is rocking, even though my eyes assure me that it’s not. My insides pitch and sway, rebelling in a visceral way against what Matt is insinuating. I want to ask questions, but part of me is stuck firmly in denial of what he’s saying, of everything he’s saying.

“I gotta give you credit for using that sweet little body of yours to hold him off, though. Far as I know, the guy’s never hesitated before.”

Never hesitated.

I will always think of you.

I pray to God that means something, something good. Something different. I pray to God that means Jasper never really planned on killing me. Or my father.

In the midst of the panic that’s threatening, in the midst of the devastation that’s setting in, an odd sense of comfort assails me. It’s sudden. And powerful. Like a hurricane force wind blowing through my insides. It’s fierce. Fiercely reassuring.

Jasper.

I know it as certainly as I know I’m sitting here with my ex. He’s close. He’s coming.

A part of me is always attuned to him on some level. It’s that part that draws my eye away from Matt and toward the dock. I see instantly that I wasn’t wrong. There, standing on the end of the pier, is Jasper.

The silvery moonlight bathes his tense shoulders in an eerie glow that leaves his face in the deepest of shadow. I’m sure it’s only my imagination, but I can almost see his eyes in the black of his face, a pale, haunting yellow in the darkness. He’s absolutely still, as though he might not even be breathing. I wonder if he even is as he stares out across the unforgiving lake to where I sit, a million miles away. Or might as well be.

“Right on time,” Matt mutters from beside me. “Come on out, King! I’ll give you a front row seat to the job you should’ve done days ago,” he yells.

Jasper says nothing. He doesn’t move, doesn’t acknowledge that he even heard Matt. He just stands there, head bowed. Now I wonder if he’s even looking out at me. Or if he’s staring into the water. And, if he is, what he’s seeing.





TWENTY-EIGHT


Jasper

I’m frozen. Terrified. Torn. The water, the lake that has haunted me for seventeen years lies between me and the man who has Muse. I don’t have to guess that he means to do her harm. I don’t have to guess that he knows enough about me to know of my history with this place. I only have to act.

Therein lies the rub.

I’m calm. Surprisingly calm. My pulse is steady, my breathing is even. But those are just learned reactions. When real crisis strikes, I don’t panic. Just like I’m not panicking now. But something else is happening. Like the reverse of panic. Like I can’t process how to work this out and save Muse, so my body is just slowly giving up.

My heart is beating sluggishly, almost like it’s running down, like it’s forgetting how to work. My lungs are pulling in long, steady gulps of air. My eyes are clear and focused. So clear and focused, in fact, that it’s as though they can see below the inky surface. On the water, I don’t see a reflection of the moon above. I don’t see my face or my surroundings. But I see into it, beneath it. And I see my brother there.

He looks just as he did the day he died. His face is a pale oval and his lips are cold blue. His brown hair, just a few shades lighter than mine, floats around his head like an unnatural halo and his eyes . . . God, his eyes! They’re the only other reflection I see. But they don’t reflect me or the moon or the lake. No, they reflect the emptiness, the blackness that resides where my soul should be. They accuse me of living when he didn’t. They blame me for never fighting for him. They hate me escaping our childhood when he couldn’t.