AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Jasper bit back a laugh and shook his head at the baffled look on the suit's face. The man looked as though he couldn't understand how he'd just been flattened by a female steamroller, and become simultaneously besotted with her. A big guy, standing maybe six-two in his shoes, but Jasper had witnessed bigger men submit to smaller women.
Maybe a few years older than Braun. Forty-five, forty-six. Two hundred and sixty pounds packed into the smart blue-gray suit. Short, predominantly silver hair—almost militarily cut. That might explain the holier-than-thou attitude, Jasper thought. When the man glanced around warily, gauging who'd just seen him have his ass subtly kicked, and sharp green eyes met Jasper's, there was a riot of emotion in them that came far too close to matching what hid inside Jasper.
Connie thanked the receptionist, rubbed her hand on her new friend's arm and spoke quietly to him, then moved away from the desk and headed toward the elevator. Jasper tugged Anarchy beside him, curling his arm around her waist and keeping her close to him as they walked. He wasn't happy with how quiet she was.
"Want to tell me what's going on in this pretty head, kitten?" he asked as they joined up with an impatient Connie.
She nodded and slipped her hand into his back pocket. He felt the chill of her fingers through the denim and cursed himself for keeping her outside in the cold. "We did this nine months ago. It's where we began, properly, I guess. This is where we spent time together, praying for Bodie's recovery. Now we're back here, together, praying for her child."
One of his fondest memories of Anarchy stemmed from here, he realized. The little sub who hadn't belonged to him yet sacrificed her time to keep him company in the waiting room, her hand curled around his ankle as she rested at his feet with her head on his thigh. She was right, as much as he might dislike admitting it; they'd laid the groundwork for a relationship here, in a place where life and death battled for supremacy.
His phone vibrated in his pocket. As he reached for it, thinking it might be Braun with an update, the elevator doors pinged open. "Guess I opened my eyes to what was in front of me," he murmured, kissing her temple. "Bodie's gonna get through this, whatever happens. She has Braun, she has Connie, she has us and the rest of Avalon at her back." He pulled his phone out, glanced at the screen, and felt his blood run cold.
There was no name on the screen, but he recognized the number. It had been drilled into his head until he could recite it forwards, backwards, and under duress.
Tightening his arm around Anarchy, he rested his forehead against her hair and breathed deep. This was the wrong place and the wrong fucking time, but he needed to deal with the phone call and the person behind it. He pushed his kitten toward Connie, who gave him a curious look he ignored. "Go with Connie, Anarchy. I'll be right behind you."
"Is there a problem?" she asked, her brow furrowing adorably.
"No." He was going to make damn sure there wasn't. "Just be a good girl. Con, what floor?"
Great, now the damn shrink was studying him as though she had him pinned down under a microscope. She held a hand out for Anarchy and stepped into the elevator as a couple of ladies slipped into the car. "Eighth floor. Room eight-zero-six. Try not to be too far behind, Jasper."
He nodded and urged Anarchy along as his phone stopped ringing. It rang again almost immediately. Gritting his teeth, he whirled away as the doors closed on a baffled Anarchy, and stomped back outside with the ringtone mocking him. Three steps outside the main doors, he answered the call. "I would have assumed by now, you'd get the fucking hint, Dominic. Stay the fuck away from me, my life, and lose my motherfucking phone number."
His father's laugh rippled through the connection. "And yet, you couldn't keep away from mine, son. All the money sat waiting for you in your trust fund, and you're driving that disgrace of a truck. It's disappointing, really it is. You showed so much promise as a boy; you could have had the world at your feet, money dripping from your fingertips by now."
Jasper snarled. "Along with the blood of how many innocent people? I'd rather starve and go homeless than whore myself out as a killer for hire," he hissed, aware of where he was and what ears might be listening. Already his temper was ignited—never a good thing.
"Ah, but you're doing neither, are you? You invested solidly in a good house in Phoenix, however poorly the interior reflects your true nature. Cupboards stocked well, refrigerator packed with decent food. Top quality sheets on that big bed of yours," Dominic continued, satisfaction in his voice as dread filled Jasper's gut. "Bet they feel real nice when you're fucking that sweet, delicious piece of submissive ass. What is her name again?" The sound of rustling papers was ominous. "Ah yes. Campbell, Anarchy. Blonde hair, brown eyes. Twenty-five years old. Ooh, bad boy. Fourteen years younger? Bet it hasn't crossed your mind you were already banging the maid's daughter when your Anarchy was born."
Jasper tried to focus on the goal, rather than the influx of memories and the disgust of knowing Dominic had sent someone to search his house. His father was bombarding him with the ugliness to throw him off his game. "Don't think I've forgotten it was you who suggested it, Father. Who set up the rape of two adolescent children so his bitch of a wife could record the fucking datafor her research."
There was a hum of disapproval. "I don't think I've ever known two more ungrateful children. Sniveling, crying, whining. I gave you your first orgasm, Jasper, and you were so useless, you couldn't knock up the most fertile female imaginable. She was perfect for you. Eighteen months of hormone treatment down the goddamn drain. Instead of bringing a baby into the family, the next generation of Fairfax, she ended up with a noose around her neck and a shallow grave in the orchard."
Bile rose in Jasper's throat as the face he'd tried to erase from his memories swam into his vision. So fucking young. Beautiful, expressive blue eyes blurring with tears. So much more innocent than he'd ever been in his life. Auburn hair, shiny and full of soft waves. Even at fourteen, he'd known she was precious. "Leigh was only twelve years old, you sonofabitch. Twelve.You broke both of us like toys you didn't want anymore, and blamed your failure on me."
"Girls conceive younger than twelve," Dominic responded dismissively. "She failed and paid the price for your mistakes. But you...you've evaded me for a long time, boy. Denied me the right to grandchildren. I've waited, been patient, hoping you'd come home and give me what's mine by right, but you've been a crafty little fucker, haven't you? Avoiding sex, getting your rocks off once every, what, decade? Oh, I know everything, Jasper, and you have royally pissed me off."
The phone was starting to crack in his hand. He could feel the plastic surrendering to the grip of his fingers as they fisted against his will. Temper was quickly turning to rage, and his control was slipping with every word out of his father's mouth. "I should have slit your throat when I had the chance."
Dominic chuckled, unconcerned. Monsters never believed they were susceptible to being taken down by their offspring. They didn't believe they were accountable to anyone. "That ship sailed years ago. Of all my children, you were the one supposed to achieve greatness. All of you are disappointments—half of you in the ground, the rest scattered in the wind—but I'm offering you a chance to not fail that pretty young thing you're in love with."
Breath streaming out from his nostrils, Jasper felt like a dragon ready to roar and set the world on fire. The ground was crumbling beneath his feet, but he managed to stand strong. "Anarchy has nothing to do with this. Take a step in her direction and you'll bring war down on your head, Dominic. I'll rip apart that mansion you love so much and blow it into last century. There'll be pieces of Rita waiting for you every time you go round a corner. Remember who I am and what you taught me to be—I’ll use all of it to remove any trace of you and that cunt."
"Temper, temper, Jasper. Anarchy has everything to do with this. You see, she's the first woman you've become actively involved with. Not just one of the painsluts you play with in that club you frequent, no. Spending time with her outside of Avalon, sleeping with her. Tending to her. For the first time in your life, your heart is committed to loving a woman."
Yeah, his father had his finger on Jasper's pulse. More effectively than Jasper himself, it seemed. Rubbing his hand over his heart, Jasper prepared to deny it, to discard the notion as ridiculous, but what was the point? Dominic would see right through his denial, and it would only hurt Jasper to say the words. He was tired of hurting, sick of being ruled by this asshole and his actions. "And you think, what? I'm not going to annihilate you for threatening the woman I love? Take your threats and your offers, and go fuck yourself, Dominic."
A sharp hiss spiked down the line, swiftly evolving into a displeased chuckle. "You always were inclined to protect, Jasper. It came so much more naturally to you than death, yet death is what you were bred for. I require a grandchild, the next Fairfax to raise. We both know I get what I want without exception, boy. So, you either get that girl of yours pregnant and on board with the plan, or I scrap the grandchild plan, take your girl, and make myself another son."
Motherfucking asshole. "You don't need Anarchy to continue the line, you prick. She doesn't have anything you need."
"No, this is true. She has the attractive features I like in my breeding females, and she obviously has creative talents, given her occupation. Nothing I need, but I won't complain about breeding her like a bitch and holing her up in the basement for the rest of her life." Keyboard keys tapped quickly. "Her main worth is the connection she has to you. It's your genes I want, boy."
A hand touched Jasper's shoulder from behind. Without thinking, he slammed his elbow back into a hard wall of muscle, whirling around with a kick that landed on a thick thigh with enough force to bruise his foot. As he lashed out with a punch, his fist was caught in Atticus's and held.
Their eyes met without a word, but Atticus's narrowed as though he understood exactly what was being said.
