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I heard the click of the ignition as the engine started. He rolled down the window, looking like an all-American boy. Blonde hair, flashing a grin fit for the winning quarterback on your high school team. My fists clenched, wanting to punch him and hear those perfect teeth scatter on the pavement.
“Leave the premises and don’t come back,” I barked.
He gave a derisive snort. “Really? You own this street?’
“You’re close enough to my property that I might as well. You’re loitering in violation of city ordinance, and you will not be interviewed for the position at Vigilance. Let’s say you failed the background check.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I’m instructing you to leave the premises. Don’t let me catch you around here again.”
“You gonna call the cops?” he asked snidely.
“I don’t need them,” I said through my teeth.
“So which one of you is she screwing? You’re awful protective, maybe it’s you. She acts like she don’t like it rough, but you can give it to her hard. She can take it just fine.”
My vision went red. The next thing I knew, my hand shot through the window. I wrapped the seatbelt strap around his neck and pinned him to the headrest. His face went red and he made a strangled sound, clawing at the strap helplessly.
He tried to grapple with me, grabbed at my arm. I ignored him, yanked the garrot firm. “Never approach my family again. Or next time you die.”
I let go as swiftly as I’d seized him and he crumpled forward, clutching his throat and coughing, gagging. Even as he choked and panted, he shifted the car into drive. He peeled out and drove away, ran the red light down the block. I crossed the street to the office and fobbed in. We were going to have to talk about this at dinner, all of us. And maybe erase the footage of where I lost it and choked Jasmine’s ex.
13
TY
Of all the days to be stuck in Boston, this was a bad one. The interpreter gig came with a deluxe hotel room and all the perks including the lavish dinner we had to attend later. Unfortunately, shit was hitting the fan back home, and I was stranded at a hotel bar waiting for my client to wake up from his siesta so I could go around translating everything into Basque for him.
I blew up the group chat like any self-respecting Burns brother. From what I could tell, the altercation took less than five minutes, but the fallout would last for days. Jasmine’s ex had shown up parked outside the office and acted a fool when Drew told him to clear out. They weren’t giving me details about how Drew got him to leave, but my bet was it was force with the threat of more force. I knew my brother.
When nobody answered my direct questions on the messaging app, I got the idea maybe he did something illegal. Fine, I’d talk to him in person tomorrow. Until then, I needed to hear Jasmine’s voice and make sure she was okay. I knew she was physically safe from the messages I’d read on the group. But after yesterday, the seismic shift in our relationship, the way everything had changed, it was bad enough that I’d had to leave at five in the morning.
It was worse to be away from her when her stalker ex showed up. She’d be rattled, feel guilty for whatever Drew did to protect her. I wanted to be there, and my obligations kept me on the ground in Massachusetts.
I dialed her number and she answered as soon as it rang.
“Hi,” she said. “How’s Boston?”
“It sucks because you’re not here. I’m on some boring job hours away and you guys had all the fun without me.”
“I wouldn’t exactly call it fun. We did book a job for the pediatric foundation carnival in April though.”
“I know you’re trying to act like nothing is wrong but tell me how you are. Please,” I said.
“I’m okay. I’ve got Eli, Drew, and Jake all here watching me so I don’t spontaneously combust or anything. I’m not that delicate. I can hear his name without falling apart.”
“But can you say it in the bathroom mirror three times and summon him?” I wisecracked and she laughed.
“It never crossed my mind to try that. Why would I want to summon him?”
“You wait till I get back tomorrow. Then we summon him in the mirror so I can drown him in the toilet and we’re done with the whole thing.”
“You clearly don’t listen to crime podcasts. That’s a terrible idea.”
“Of course it is. I’m joking. If I had to get rid of evidence you think I’d talk about it on the phone and discuss my plan?” I said.
“Probably not,” she said and I heard a tinge of wariness in her voice.
