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Braun had given him a welcome heads-up when he'd returned with the beers, without going into too much detail. It had given Jasper time to mull things over, hash them out in his own head and with Braun's input. It really did help to have someone to bounce problems off, especially when Jasper had never been responsible for the welfare of a sub before—not one who meant so much to him, whom he wanted to keep around for a long, long time.
He wasn't changing his game plan for the night. He'd told Anarchy what he intended to do, and he would follow through on it. As her Dominant, he couldn't let himself appear weak by backing off a punishment that scared her, yet couldn't stand the thought of shattering her confidence by not listening to her fears and responding appropriately.
She'd take the eight. If he pulled the strokes a fraction, she wouldn't know, but she would gain confidence from seeing the castigation through and, hopefully, they would strengthen the trust currently wavering between them.
Somehow, it was a relief to have something other than Dominic's threats to worry about. One was within his control, the other was not. Atticus's team would be changing shifts in just a couple of hours, but Jasper intended to be inside Avalon during the transition window. He wouldn't risk Anarchy being out in the open while the teams were distracted with the handover.
Tomorrow was a different story.
There was a lot of opportunity for her to be waylaid on the way to her office. Even if he was driving— which he damn well would be—the open highway would be a prime opportunity for a vehicular smash-and-grab. Not to mention the office building would be hard to post security on, but Atticus had the building specifications and was already forming a security team to deal with the exits and entrances.
Jasper's guilt over the situation was rapidly escalating. His involvement with Anarchy had dropped her squarely in his father's crosshairs. Atticus's resources were being utilized exponentially. The whole mess was pulling Avalon and their friends into danger—Jasper didn't believe Dominic would try and strike the club or its members, not now, but if he became frustrated at being thwarted at every turn, there was a chance his already dirty game would get bloody.
The information being extracted from the nine individuals under Dominic's command would go a long way to moving up the timeline on ending the fucker. It couldn't come too soon for Jasper, though it meant getting his hands bloody after a lifetime of avoiding it.
When it was over, Jasper was seriously considering agreeing to his friend's proposal. Joining the team which was busting its collective ass to bring him closure. If he could be part of bringing that to other people in similar situations, how could he say no?
Gunfire on the television drew his attention to the action flick Braun switched on. He exchanged glances with him, shook his head at his friend's rueful grin. "Of all the nights, you want to watch this?"
"Does a man good to get out of his head for a while." Braun pointed the remote at the screen. "Bruce Willis. Alan Rickman. Murder, mayhem, and shootouts. The perfect mental escape."
They could both use the timeout, Jasper supposed. An hour of kicking ass while the girls slept. He'd already stowed Anarchy's bags in his truck so they wouldn't disturb Bodie when they left the house. Archie would have to wear the clothes she had on while they crossed the parking lot, but after that...they would start and finish the night with her naked as the day she'd been born.
He got lost in the plot, despite having watched the movie a dozen times before. Time ticked past, but he was enjoying just holding his sub, feeling her hand flex on his arm as she dreamed. Yeah, he needed a lot more nights like this in his future. She had a knack of bringing him peace, sleeping or awake.
When the end credits rolled, he finally sensed some movement that told him she was stirring. "Nice nap, kitten?"
Her purr of sleepy contentment was answer enough.
Another five minutes passed before those stunning eyes of hers were wide open and aware of her surroundings. "How long was I asleep?"
"Long enough. Bodie's still sleeping so we need to be quiet," he warned her quietly, gesturing to the bed. "If you need to use the bathroom, go now. Take your time."
Carefully, Archie shuffled off his lap and moved stiffly toward the stairs. Her brain might be alert, but her body was still sluggish with the remnants of sleep. When he heard her climbing the stairs, Jasper perched on the edge of the couch. "Thanks for this, Braun. For giving her a place to stay and company when I was gone."
"Think nothing of it. We loved having her, Bodie especially. It gets lonely for her out here sometimes. Making friends with Anarchy was one of the best things to happen to her."
"Once Dominic is wrapped up, I'll make sure Anarchy visits through the day if it suits them both. Bedrest won't be easy for her, but if the doctor says it's necessary, there's no point defying him. I really hope this comes out on the positive side for you, Braun."
"Thanks. She knows the risks, we both do."
Upstairs, the toilet flushed, and the pipes hummed as water rushed through them.
They all knew the risks, Jasper mused. He pushed to his feet as footsteps plodded down the stairs again, then walked to meet her by the front door. "Ready?"
"I'm not dressed," she said apologetically. "All my clothes for Avalon are in my bag."
"Let me worry about that," he told her gently, grasping her elbow. "Say goodnight to Braun."
Her shoulders sagged. She eased into the living room and waved at him glumly. "Goodnight, Braun. Thank you for everything."
The wave he gave her back was more of a salute. "Have a good night, sweetheart. Remember what I said."
"Yes, sir."
The air outside was cool as he shut the door behind them with the faintest click, but Anarchy's shiver wasn't from the cold. She slipped her hand into his as they walked down the path, her fingers chilled. There were several cars already parked up, a couple with the engines still ticking as they cooled down. Among them, Jasper recognized Atticus's brute of a truck.
The man himself stood on the porch, arms crossed, assessing the terrain with a hawkish gaze.
