Page 112 of XO Karma

“No,” I blurt at the same time Aster says, “Yes.”

“No?” Aster repeats, glaring at me. Shit.

“Well, yes, but…” Words are hard. Why are words so hard?

“Don’t worry.” Jackson winks my way. “I won’t tell Liam.”

Relief floods through me. “Appreciate that.” I’m not ready for him to be in my business. The familiar rumble of Aster’s car engine nears. “Well, that’s us,” I say, pointing to Aster’s Porsche pulling before us. “See you around.”

“See you.”

“You know Jax?” I ask once we’re tucked inside as Aster discards his masquerade mask for his glasses. “Did he give you intel on me?”

“No way, baby,” Aster replies with a chuckle, pushing the frames up the bridge of his nose. “I’m a self-research kinda guy.”

“Do you see each other a lot?” I ask, putting on my seat belt as he takes off towards the exit.

He glances in the side mirror, tapping his fingers against the steering wheel. “Other than the occasional text here and there, not really.” Weird.

We exit the gates of the Westerford property, beginning our drive through the dark forest, and both of us let out an audible sigh of relief. “I think we should consider ourselves lucky for getting in and out of that place twice.”

“Not sure we want to risk a third,” he says, and my mind returns to thoughts of the basement and the beetle pit.

“So, what? We just let them keep doing their creepy shit?”

“Of course not, but I think now it’s time to recon outside of the estate.”

“Well, I’m happy to hear you say that because I think I’ve got something we can use.” Digging in my purse, I retrieve my phone. The modern one that actually takes pictures. I pull up a photo I took in Jude’s study after he’d finally left me alone, and angle it Aster’s way.

“What is this?” he asks, the light from the device reflecting off his glasses.

“I think it’s a client list. There are names and descriptions, although a bit undecipherable, and dollar amounts.”

He plucks the phone from my hand. “Really?”

“Hey.” I snatch it right back. “Not while you’re driving.”

“Aw, she cares about my safety,” he coos.

“Bitch, I’m also in the car.”

“Hey.” He scowls at me. “The only time you can make me your bitch is in the bedroom.”

My cheeks flame. “I haven’t pictured you as a sub.”

Even in the low light, the grin on his face is obvious. “I fear you could convince me to do just about anything in that dress.”

I release a sigh, shaking out the dirty thoughts flying through my head. “Can you please focus on the task at hand?”

“Booooorinnnngggg.”

“Have you forgotten we’re trying to catch a killer?”

“That’s a typical Tuesday night for me, Karma baby.”

An hour later, we’re standing before the murder board, a milkshake in one hand and a sharpie in the other. The printer screeches as it finishes printing out the client list photo. Aster pins it to the board near the Westerfords’ photos.

“You think it’s related to Kodak?” I ask him.