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Content to let her stew, Jasper started the engine and let it warm up as he took out his phone and the list of contact numbers from Atticus. It took a few minutes to program them into his cell and assign two to speed dial—Atticus and Michael. By the time he finished that, Archie's sulk was waning. He tossed his phone into the catch-all beneath the radio and set the truck into reverse, not saying anything as he backed out of his spot, changed gears, and drove carefully away from Avalon.
It felt like a bad idea. So bad, in fact, he engaged the internal locks before they reached the main road. His eyes were constantly dancing from side mirrors to rearview, rearview mirrors to the road stretching out in front of his headlights. Looking for movement in the dark, unseen threats in their surroundings.
As he pulled out of Avalon's drive, Jasper was disturbed to find no sign of a car in the near vicinity. Either their escort was late, lost, or really fucking good at his job. After a half-mile, he was tempted to call Atticus, but lights appeared in his rearview mirror, tiny dots at first. Maintaining his speed, Jasper grabbed his phone and handed it to Anarchy. "Speed dial three," he ordered without taking his eyes off the road. "Put it on speakerphone."
"Jasper?" Concern rippled in her voice. Sulky sub was fading fast, good.
"Speed dial three," he repeated, "and speakerphone."
Anarchy obeyed this time, and the call began ringing through the truck's speakers. No one answered, and Jasper cursed. When it switched to voicemail, he shook his head. "Try it once more, kitten."
This time, it was picked up on the second ring.
"Michael?" Jasper demanded. He saw the car behind close the distance between them and the headlights flashed.
A weird gurgling noise filled the truck, sending ice down his spine. Anarchy looked at him with a confused expression he could only just see in the soft glow of the dashboard lights. When she tried to speak, he sliced his hand through the air for silence, then snatched the phone from her hand. Before he could cut the call, intending to spare her what was coming, there was a firm thud, a pained cry.
The gurgling grew harsher, and Jasper could envision Atticus's man taking his last breaths. The bubbling sound was blood in the lungs, in the throat. Stabbed, more than likely, in the chest. Michael would either drown in his own blood or—Jasper grimaced as he heard the whisper of sharpened steel rendering flesh, then a soft, phlegmy rattle.
"You can run, big brother, but you can't hide."
Fuck. This was it. "I'm not your brother."
A thick, nasal laugh. "Same blood, same training. Dominic wants his prodigal son to come home."
"That fucker needs to learn he doesn't always get what he wants," Jasper snapped, then ended the call.
"What was that sound?" Archie asked quietly, hesitantly. She already knew the answer. Whether she fully comprehended what they'd heard, linked it to the act of murder, was a different question altogether.
Jasper was well aware of how a knife sounded as it pierced flesh. The almost silent pop as it broke the skin, the thud of the hilt hitting flesh as the blade bottomed out. He'd been the cause of a few death rattles in his time, and it wasn't something he was likely to forget any time soon. Just like that unmistakable hiss of a man's throat being cut wide open. "That was a man dying, Anarchy. They've just raised the stakes."
"Oh my God. They killed him? The man who works for Atticus?"
"I'm guessing he won't be the first or last to die tonight." Grimly, Jasper put his foot down harder on the gas, felt the truck respond with a surge of speed. When the car behind them kept pace, he cursed and hit one on the speed dial. When it rang with the engaged tone, he gauged his options. There weren't many that didn't leave his hands tied. "Atticus, get off the fucking phone and answer my goddamn call."
Anarchy shouted as something big flew from the side of the road, straight in front of the truck. Jasper caught a glimpse of dark hair, dark clothing, before it landed on the asphalt directly in their path. He slammed on the brakes, the truck trying to skid sideways, but the horrible bump-bumpas the tires ran over the thing sent sickness straight into his gut.
He hit one again, and prayed his friend would answer. It beeped with the busy tone.
"J-Jasper? There's someone out there."
A bruiser of a someone, he noted. And another one climbing out of the car which was now almost rammed up his bumper. Well and truly fucked, was his opinion. The twins had been one step ahead of them, yet again, and now all hell was going to break loose.
"Anarchy, you need to listen to me, very carefully. As soon as I am out of the truck, you lock the door behind me, climb into the driver's seat, and go. Turn the truck around, head back to Avalon, and get inside. Keep calling Atticus until he answers, and tell him what's happened. Do you understand me?"
A flashlight shone through the windshield, blinding him for an instant. But as he averted his gaze from the powerful beam, he saw the tears on Archie's face.
"I am not leaving you."
"Yeah, kitten, you are. Because the alternative is worse than you can imagine." He reached out and set the phone in her hand, pressing one again. He curled her fingers around it. "I love you, Anarchy. It's the first time I've said it before you have, so don't ruin the moment. I love you, and I am going to fight for you, but you need to get your ass into gear and go, so I know you're safe. Do that for me."
"You're coming with me. We can just drive away and..."
"And what?" he asked gently. The twins were biding their time, undoubtedly confident that they had Anarchy where they wanted her. For fuck's sake, it wasn't even her Dominic truly wanted, but here they were. "They'll chase us from here to fucking Nebraska, Archie. They just killed a man because, hell, because they could." And he had a horrible feeling it was Michael's body that had been tossed like trash in front of the truck. "They won't hesitate to run us off the road. Dominic wants us by any means necessary—he’s not having you. This buys us time until Atticus gets the cavalry into motion to rescue our sorry asses."
"I can surrender. I'll go with them." Her eyes shone with tears. "I can handle whatever happens until you and Atticus come for me, Jasper. I can," she insisted when he scowled. "I'm strong enough to survive anything but losing you, and if you get out of this truck, you are going to die."
The twin standing at the rear of the truck checked his watch. They were getting impatient—Jasper's time was running out fast. If he didn't spur her into moving, Dominic would be very happy with the prizes his sons brought home. Anarchy was the lure, after all. Jasper was the big fish he wanted.
