where I could take my time in ripping off her clothes and making that body writhe the way I knew it was capable of.
But that wasn’t something I should entertain, not now, not here.
I pushed her off me, holding her at arm’s length as I glared. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“I don’t know” was all she said. Her dark, warm eyes met mine, her full lips parting ever so slightly…it was nearly enough to make my willpower weaken, damn it. “I have no idea what the hell’s going on,” she whispered.
I released my hold on her arms, knowing I should step away from her, put more space between us, lest her power over me weaken me even more, but all I did was whisper, “I do. Brittany Pots is dead, and it’s looking like you’re the one who killed her.”
Those beautifully dark eyes widened. “I didn’t—”
“I know you didn’t,” I cut in, not letting her go on. Jaz didn’t need to profess her innocence to me; I knew she couldn’t have done it, even if, somehow, her DNA was all over the crime scene. That…that certainly did make it look bad, but anyone who knew Jaz knew she could never have done something like that.
Jaz breathed out unevenly, and I realized she trembled a bit. I’d give anything to be able to wrap her in my arms and protect her from the horrors of the world, but this was reality, and the reality was things were not so simple for us. Plus, there was the small complication of those other fucking dicks. “I don’t know how we’re going to fix this,” she whispered, biting her lower lip.
Yeah, I called other teenagers dicks, but I didn’t care. Vaughn was a Scott, therefore he could inherently not be trusted. Archer might’ve killed Brittany and set Jaz up. And Dante? Dante wasn’t even a teenager, at least I didn’t think so. He was older by at least a few years, and he definitely didn’t belong in Midpark or with Jaz, regardless of whatever he claimed.
“First thing, and this should go without saying,” I added, frowning at her, “you need to stay out of trouble, keep your head down—”
Jaz looked like she wanted to argue with me, but all she said was, “I know that, Mr. Grumps.”
Her nickname caused heat to gather somewhere it shouldn’t; not here. “Don’t call me that,” I told her, glancing toward the opening in the hall. The kitchen was on the other side of the house, and though I couldn’t hear Oliver and her mother talking, it was better to be safe than sorry. “Not here.”
In spite of the circumstances, Jaz’s lips were slow to curl into a smile. “Looks like you and I are going to be spending more time together, then.”
Ooh, fuck me. This girl was dangerous. She played a wily game, and she knew she would always win when it came to me.
“Again,” I growled out, “behave.” It was like a pot calling the kettle black, but still. If Jaz behaved herself, this would be so much easier…along with a lot less more fun, but maybe that was the point.
“What will you do if I’m a bad girl? Will you spank me?”
At that, I had to remember to not reach for her, to not grab her and crash my mouth down upon hers to shut her the fuck up. Instead, I simply clenched my hands at my sides into fists and glowered at her, praying to God no one else in the house heard what she just said.
Her good-natured humor faded, and she rubbed her arm, appearing uneasy. “Nothing is sitting right with me. When I imagine Archer…” Jaz trailed off. “I can’t picture him doing what the pictures showed. There was so much blood.” Her eyes squeezed shut. “So much. Like someone took a hose and just sprayed it everywhere, like Freddy Krueger had a field day.”
I didn’t know if she was trying to convince me or herself that her loverboy Archer couldn’t have done it. From what I’d seen and heard about him, he didn’t seem like the knight in shining armor he pretended to be. Archer Vega came from a fractured family, and in Midpark, that was basically a sentence to be psychotic.
Not sure what that said about me, although, to be fair, I didn’t grow up in Midpark, so maybe it didn’t apply.
“Jaz, you’d be surprised what people are capable of.” That could go for both Archer and myself, I supposed,