Chapter 6

CHAPTER 6

J umper blinked, and then groaned. His head felt like someone had taken a jackhammer to it. The pain itself was gone but the vibrating aftereffects were still very much present. His eyes were dry and felt flaky. His tongue tasted like he'd eaten something sour, and not one of those candies Scotty loved to pass around to make his uncles pucker their lips like that cartoon on the wrapper. His skin felt cold and clammy, and he wondered if he'd had a hot flash.

Slowly, he moved himself over onto his back—and nearly fell off the bed! Scrambling, Jumper righted himself on the mattress. He looked around the studio room.

Jasmine wasn't there. He spotted his phone on the nightstand. On top was a pink sticky note. In her awful handwriting she must have learned in veterinarian school, he read how she moved herself and the puppies into Sophia's room across the hall and said to call out to her if he needed something. She had signed it with a heart.

Putting the note aside, Jumper reached for his phone. As soon as he found the number, he laid down on the pillow. His entire body ached like he'd just run fifteen miles with his old SEAL pack on his back. The ringtone grated on his sore brain.

"Marshall, are you okay?"

Jumper had to clear his throat several times before he could use it. "I had a migraine last night."

He could hear rustling in the background. Dr. Rutenberg said, "It still is nighttime." Jumper heard him mutter something to someone else, Jumper assumed his husband, and then the creaking of a door. "It's four-thirty in the morning, Marshall."

Jumper looked at his wristwatch. "Shit. Sorry, Doc."

"It's all right. I told you I'm available day or night. Let me just put some coffee on so I can actually concentrate." The running of water came across the phone. "Can you tell me what happened? Do you know what triggered it?"

Jumper tried to think back to the last thing he remembered. "I was feeding the puppies with Jasmine. I'm not sure after that."

"Clearly more happened since we last spoke because, the last I was aware, you'd walked out on Dr. Sharpe and weren't speaking to her. Start at the beginning please."

He'd had an unscheduled session with Dr. Rutenberg Saturday morning after his episode in the clubhouse where he'd spaced out for nearly six hours.

Groggy, but his mind starting to clear, he told Dr. Rutenberg about being at Bulldog's the day before and receiving Carlos's phone call. How furious and terrified he'd been that Jasmine could have gotten hurt on her stupidly heroic mission to prove who killed those dogs. Then about finding her half-dressed in her clinic and the passion that followed, as well as the confession about his inability to ejaculate. About Carlos's phone call and the danger Sophia and Jasmine could be in now if the McCrery brothers recognized Sophia's car. Finally about staying up late with Jasmine to help care for the puppies. He'd wanted so badly to curl up on the bed beside her when she'd gotten in it, but he couldn't risk it.

Silence met the end of his story. He heard the pouring of liquid into ceramic, and assumed Dr. Rutenberg was pouring more coffee.

"A lot's happened in the past twelve hours," the doctor finally said. "Honestly, I'm a bit impressed a migraine was the only reaction you had to all of that."

Jumper's face scrunched in confusion. His tongue felt heavy after his long story. He really needed to get some water, but wasn't ready to make his body move yet. "Why do you say that?"

"Marshall, you broke up with the girl you've loved and have basically been stalking for the past two years, only to discover that she put herself in danger to rescue puppies. You don't actually get back together with her, but end up having sex in the back room of her clinic, where you initially couldn't get an erection and then resulted in you unable to orgasm. When things finally calm down enough for you to, even subconsciously, process what happened, you get a migraine rather than having a panic attack or another dissociative episode. Personally, I say that's progress."

Rubbing his sore temples, Jumper muttered, "Doesn't feel like progress."

"And it probably won't for the next hour or so," Dr. Rutenberg warned him. "Migraines can be debilitating and, unfortunately, prescriptions are not an option to aide you."

"Jasmine mentioned trying a holistic route."

"Knew I was going to like her." Jumper could hear the grin in Dr. Rutenberg's voice. "I've been saying for years that you need to look into alternative managements for your stress. If Dr. Sharpe can get you to do that, I am a hundred percent behind it."

"I don't really know what it means but she can try anything she wants to, honestly."

"Sounding like a man in love," Dr. Rutenberg commented. Then asked, "Do you want to talk about what happened during sex?"

"You mean what didn't happen?" Jumper retorted back snidely.

"Touché."

"I don't want to talk about it now. I want to take a shower, brush my teeth, drink a gallon of water, and find Jasmine."

"Well, we do have our standard session this afternoon. We can discuss it in depth more then."

Jumper held back a groan. "Looking forward to it," he said sarcastically.

"I've drunk enough coffee that I can pick up on your tone, Marshall. We're still going to talk about it though."

"I have no doubt." That time he was completely honest.

After thanking Dr. Rutenberg and hanging up the call, Jumper forced himself out of bed. He had a plan of action and he was going to follow through on it.

The clubhouse had a commercial kitchen leftover from the distillery's days of hosting events, weddings, and such. It was one of the selling points for the club, not because they planned on throwing such events—though recently two of their members had gotten married at the clubhouse—but because Jenna had fallen in love with the kitchen as soon as she'd seen it. And Steel would do anything to make his ol' lady happy. Even though she had a lovely kitchen in her own house, the clubhouse's kitchen was Jenna's domain. The Honeys were hired to cook, but none of them cooked well . It was Jenna's cooking the members came around for. The commercial kitchen allowed her to also cook events for the community, like the club's annual Thanksgiving feast they put on.

Other than fixing the occasional sandwich, the club members didn't really go into the kitchen. The bar was their domain. In the main area of the clubhouse was a bar with a long mirror on the wall. While Demon on the Rocks was the club's bar business, they had a catering license that allowed them to serve alcohol off premises. This allowed the club to use the bar for their open parties without needing to license the clubhouse too. However, since the club had voted last March to no longer host any open parties at the clubhouse due to the number of children now living on club property, Demon's had dropped the catering license. Since the alcohol at the clubhouse wasn't sold and the club purchased it from Demon's supplier at retail price, a license was not required. Since children did frequent the clubhouse, the cabinets that housed the alcohol were locked up when a patched member wasn't around to keep an eye on it.

Heading behind the bar now, Jumper eyed the glass case. When they'd first installed the cabinets, Steel had offered each member a key. Jumper had declined. He wanted evidence if he ever fell off the wagon and tried to get inside. He didn't crave alcohol itself. That had never been why he'd drunk to excess or had trouble stopping. He'd craved the numbness that followed mixing alcohol and medication. The disconnect to everyday life.

Even eight years since he'd touched the stuff, Jumper still felt that craving. Probably always would.

A flash of his mom lying in a pool of her own blood filled his vision. Jumper flinched, turning away from the locked bottles. He leaned heavily against the front bar. Breathe… He counted backwards in his head from twenty. Normally, he started at ten, but he knew he'd need more time. Guilt swarmed him. He'd never be able to forgive himself for hurting his mom, who'd only been trying to help him through a terrible flashback.

It was Jumper's worst fear. That he'd snap out of an episode and find Jasmine lying dead at his feet.

The pressure in his head increased. Just as it had the night before when the migraine had started. Fuck. He did not want to go through that again. Hands laid gently over his. Small, feminine hands that were like a balm to his tortured soul.

"You shouldn't touch me when I'm like this," he chastised, even as he turned his palms over so he could squeeze her hands. "I could have lashed out at you."

"That's why I came to this side of the bar."

Jumper blinked his eyes open and confirmed that Jasmine was standing with the front bar between them. She was sitting on a stool, likely for the height assist to reach him. "Smart. What are you doing up so early?"

"Feeding the puppies," she answered. "I went to check on you too and found your bed empty." She smiled sympathetically at him. "How are you feeling?"

"Like someone took a jackhammer to my head," he answered honestly. "But the shower helped." He tipped his head behind him to the counter where the commercial coffee pot sat. "Coffee hopefully will help more." He leaned down and kissed the palms of her hands. "This helped the most."

Her grin changed to pleased. "If I was more of a coordinated person, I'd climb up on this counter to crawl over to you. However, I feel like that would be disastrous, so I'm just going to walk around now that you know I'm here." She nodded her head to her left to indicate where the gap was between the back bar and the front bar.

Jumper kissed her hands once more before releasing her. Once Jasmine neared him, he put his hands on her hips and hoisted her up to sit on the front bar.

"I love how you can do that," she admitted shyly. "I know you don't like me saying it but, reality is, I'm not the smallest girl in town and yet you lift me as if I am."

Rather than scold her for speaking about her body so, Jumper leaned forward. She was slightly taller than him with the help of the counter. "The only thing large about you is your heart, Jasmine." Then he added, "And your brain. So you have two large things, but both things are beautiful to me." Jumper cringed internally, realizing he'd messed up his initial romantic gesture.

Thankfully, Jasmine giggled. She leaned down to press her lips against his. Jumper stepped forward and her legs automatically spread to make room for him. What had started out as a sweet act quickly turned into so much more. Jasmine's arms went around his neck, her legs squeezing his hips. Jumper's fingers shoved into her loose blonde locks, holding tight.

He spread her lips with his tongue, diving in.

Suddenly, she wrenched her mouth away from his. Jumper nearly lost his balance from her quick movement. His eyes popped open to see she had one hand covering over her mouth.

"What is it?" he gasped. Had he hurt her somehow? Had he been too rough? "What's wrong?"

"I haven't brushed my teeth yet this morning." Her words were muffled by her hand.

Jumper could have laughed. Relief washed over him. "Fucking hell, Jazz," he groaned. He leaned his forehead against hers. "I thought I'd hurt you."

Her hand still covered her mouth. "You didn't, but I probably have a really bad case of morning breath."

Jumper pressed his lips to the back of her hand. "Don't care."

"But—"

He kissed her hand again. "Don't care."

"Shouldn't—"

He nipped her skin lightly. "Do. Not. Care."

Slowly, she lowered her hand. She had the cutest look of uncertainty on her face. "Really?

He nodded. "No amount of morning breath is going to keep me from kissing you."

"Okay," she said softly. He went to kiss her again, but she put a finger up to stop him. "Um, could you make the coffee first? I barely got any sleep last night and I have to be at the clinic by seven."

Jumper planned on going with her. She wasn't going anywhere without an escort until he knew the McCrery brothers weren't going to be an issue.

"Are you saying you'd rather have coffee than me?" he teased.

She grinned. "Normally no, but presently yes."

Jumper smiled back. He kissed the pad of her finger before turning to the coffee maker. "I called Dr. Rutenberg this morning. He knows about my migraine last night. Surprisingly, he thinks it's an improvement." Jumper added the pre-portioned grounds bag to the coffee pot and turned the machine on.

"I guess he would know, but, improvement or not, I didn't like seeing you in so much pain."

Jumper snorted as the coffee started pouring. It was the unspoken rule that whoever was up first in the clubhouse made the coffee. The commercial machine could hold two-fourteen ounce pots. In the morning, both were regular roast. Around the afternoon, one of the pots got switched out for decaffeinated coffee.

"I certainly would have preferred a less painful reaction too." Jasmine hadn't moved her legs back together after he'd stepped away. He slid back between them like he belonged there. "I have an appointment with him this afternoon at two-thirty. Are you still interested in coming with me?"

Jasmine nodded. "I'll need to text Amanda to rearrange my schedule, but yes." She raised her arms to loosely hang over his shoulders.

"Good." He kissed her nose.

Jasmine really liked Dr. Rutenberg. The man was in his mid-thirties and looked like he should be a high-end university professor rather than a small town psychiatrist. He wore a tweed jacket with elbow pads, a brown and yellow plaid shirt with a dark tie, wingtip shoes, corduroy pants, and dark rimmed glasses. The office they were in was above the town's only bookstore, A Wrinkle on a Page, which just tickled Jasmine. Dr. Rutenberg had a comfortable chair in the sunlight from the room's only window. The couch where his patients sat faced him at an angle, as if giving the patient the option to look elsewhere. A low coffee table between doctor and patient held a tray with a pitcher of water, a hot teapot, and cups. Juice was also available from the minifridge.

Pictures of Dr. Rutenberg with his family, college graduation, and wedding surrounded the desk in the far corner. He didn't have a receptionist. Two large filing cabinets stood next to each other on the wall behind the door.

Jasmine held her cup of tea between her hands. She was sitting on the couch next to Jumper, though he'd sat with space between them. She didn't take it personally. Anxiety radiated off of him, and she wondered if her presence was the cause.

Jumper's back was ramrod straight, like he was sitting at attention. His hands were splayed over his knees and he looked at the wall over Dr. Rutenberg's head. His chest barely moved with his breaths. Aerial was laying down over his shoes, another clue of his anxiety.

Dr. Rutenberg was watching them. He sat with his legs crossed at the knees in a relaxed position. While he had a notepad handy on the table beside his chair, he wasn't using it. Jasmine liked that he wasn't actively taking notes. She was pretty sure even she would have been uncomfortable with that.

The silence continued, but it wasn't awkward. Dr. Rutenberg had a smile on his face, like Jumper's refusal to speak amused him. He even winked at Jasmine when their eyes met.

Finally, Dr. Rutenberg broke the silence. "My next appointment cancelled, Marshall, so your timer just extended beyond your usual hour. Other than dinner with my husband, I have no plans this evening." Then he looked at Jasmine and added, "That, and an early bedtime. I was woken up at forty-thirty this morning."

Jasmine gave him a small smile. He had this relaxing air about him, almost playful.

Jumper shifted in his seat. It was slight, but both Dr. Rutenberg and Jasmine caught it. He still looked at the wall as he said through gritted teeth, "I want to have a healthy sex life with Jasmine."

Dr. Rutenberg bobbed his head. "Understandable." He looked at Jasmine. "I assume you're also looking to continue your sexual relationship with Marshall?"

She nodded back. "Yes. What we did yesterday was amazing, but I don't want Jumper to feel pressured or anxious regarding sex."

"A very compassionate outlook, Dr. Sharpe," Dr. Rutenberg commended. "Marshall, why don't you tell Jasmine what you're afraid of?"

Silence fell again. Jasmine took a sip of her tea just to do something. When she looked at Dr. Rutenberg this time, he didn't wink. He did give her a sympathetic smile though.

Jasmine reached forward and placed her cup on a coaster on the coffee table in front of her. She scooted closer to Jumper, but was careful not to touch him. "Baby, the number of times we have sex or how we have sex isn't going to affect my feelings for you. I want to have a healthy sex life with you, but only if it doesn't cause you more stress or another migraine."

"There is also the precedent that not being able to perform sexually makes him feel like less of a man," Dr. Rutenberg told Jasmine gently. To Jumper, he said, "Perhaps your deepest fear isn't disappointing her, but that one day she'll look at you and think you're no longer worthy of her."

Jasmine gasped. She opened her mouth to speak, but Dr. Rutenberg signaled her to wait. Jumper's hands formed fists on his knees.

"I can't—" His voice cracked. Jumper squeezed his eyes closed like he was fighting an internal battle.

Jasmine looked to Dr. Rutenberg in concern, and noticed he too was studying Jumper more closely. Aerial sat up and started licking one of his hands. Jumper opened his fist and turned his palm to start petting the side of her face.

He took a deep breath and shakily let it out. "I don't remember much about the day I walked in on Molly with another man. They had to sedate me and I wasn't around for the fallout. But I overheard my parents talking late one night about a week later. My dad said that Molly claimed I wasn't around enough to satisfy her, and that was the reason she started having affairs." Jumper opened his eyes and turned towards Jasmine. "I know you're not Molly. I know that you care about me. But it would crush me, Jazz, if I walked in on you one day with another man. All because I couldn't satisfy you."

A tear escaped her eye. "Never going to happen. Even if my feelings did change down the line—and that is a huge if —I wouldn't go behind your back, Jumper. That's not who I am. I'd sit you down and talk to you." Carefully she reached for his right hand, the one that wasn't petting Aerial. "I've been cheated on. It sucks. I'd never do that to you."

Jumper held her gaze for a long minute before he nodded.

"I have a suggestion for you two." Jasmine had almost forgotten their audience. She turned her attention towards Dr. Rutenberg. "Based on observing the two of you now, as well as listening to Marshall over the last two years speak about his feelings for you, it's come to my attention that he's put you on a pedestal." His smile turned mischievous as he said, "I want to knock you off that pedestal, Dr. Sharpe."

Both Jasmine and Jumper looked at the doctor in confusion. Jumper turned his right hand over so he could lace their fingers together on his knee.

"It's a game my husband and I used to play when we were dating," Dr. Rutenberg explained. "I would say something negative about myself, something either I don't like about myself or a habit I have that isn't…the greatest," he hedged. "Dr. Sharpe, Marshall sees you as the wonderful, beautiful person who can do no wrong." He winked at her. "In this image of you, he finds himself lacking in comparison due to his PTSD symptoms. Therefore, I'd like for you to name some negative things about yourself. Now," he held up a finger and looked at Jumper, "for everything she says, Marshall, you are to respond with something positive. It could be saying that her negative aspect isn't as bad as she thinks it is or it could be something positive about her that cancels out her negative."

Jasmine bit her lip. "This will help him?"

Dr. Rutenberg nodded. "I hope so."

She looked up at Jumper. "What do you think?"

"You say nothing about your body," he warned. "It'll only piss me off."

That had been the first thing that had come to mind when Dr. Rutenberg had been explaining the rules of the game. Still, Jasmine nodded, "I can do that. I have plenty of other things to mention."

Jumper scowled. "I don't like this game already."

"That's the point," Dr. Rutenberg said to them both.

Jasmine looked at the doctor. "Does he have to do it too? Say something negative?"

Dr. Rutenberg shook his head. "Not today. We'll save that for another time but, yes, eventually I would like him to also participate."

Jasmine looked back at Jumper. "Ready?"

Jumper let go of Aerial. He twisted on the couch so his back was more towards Dr. Rutenberg and facing her. She also shifted so she was sitting with one leg up on the couch and the other hanging off. They held hands between them.

"First," Jumper said, sending an evil eye over his shoulder at Dr. Rutenberg, "I want to say that you are wonderful and beautiful. And you can do no wrong when you're not chasing after dog murderers."

Jasmine glanced over at Dr. Rutenberg. He didn't seem the least bit offended by Jumper's glare. She sat up straighter as she brought her gaze back to Jumper's chocolate eyes. She still wasn't entirely comfortable with this idea, but was willing to try to help Jumper.

"I'm a slob," she admitted. "I hate doing the dishes. I don't get around to cooking often with my schedule, though I do like to. However, I hate doing the dishes afterwards. I wait until the last possible moment before my kitchen would qualify as a hazmat zone before I wash everything. I know it's not the best for the environment but I also use paper and plastic products just to avoid doing the dishes."

Jumper looked a bit confused. "Your clinic is immaculate."

"Because that's work ," she explained. "You haven't been inside my apartment yet. I have laundry everywhere and never make my bed. I can't remember the last time I cleaned my bathroom."

When Jumper didn't say anything, Dr. Rutenberg prompted, "Now you say something positive in response, Marshall."

Jumper stared at her for a heartbeat before replying. "I don't mind doing the dishes. I find the chore relaxing, actually. You can make any mess you want to, Jasmine. I'll go behind you and clean up."

She made a gross face. "Even my hair from the shower drain?"

He reached a hand over and pulled on a lock of hair that had fallen out of her ponytail. "Even your hair from the shower drain."

Jasmine leaned over and pressed a quick kiss to his lips. "Deal." She looked to Dr. Rutenberg. "How many of these do I have to do?"

"Let's say five today," he told her. "We'll start off small."

Jumper made a grumbling sound under his breath that brought a smile to Jasmine's face. For some reason the fact that he didn't like this game about her admitting to her faults made it easier for her. She was sure Dr. Rutenberg could explain why better than she could guess.

"Okay, um," she thought. "I work too much, but you already knew that so I'm not sure that counts."

"It counts," Jumper insisted before Dr. Rutenberg could say anything. "And you already know that I love how passionate you are about your work—when you're not putting yourself in danger for puppies," he added harshly. "You can work as many hours as you need to. I only work part-time and mainly at night. I can come visit you at the clinic for meals or to drag you home."

Jasmine smiled. She had liked when he visited her at the clinic prior to their breakup. "I'm a cover hog. Like it's ninety degrees outside and I'm somehow still freezing in a burrito of blankets."

Jumper opened his mouth and then closed it. He turned his face away from her.

In that moment, seeing the mixture of anger and sadness on his face, Jasmine knew what it was he was about to say. "You were going to offer to help keep me warm at night, weren't you?"

Jumper closed his eyes and nodded. "I wish I could without risking your safety."

Jasmine looked over at Dr. Rutenberg, but he remained quiet. She reached up to grip Jumper's chin and turn his face back towards her. "We don't have to sleep next to each other right away. We can work up to that, Jumper. We'll work on getting you comfortable with me in your space first, and then we'll discuss sharing a bed. Don't feel pressured to do so."

"I want to, Jazz. I want to hold you in my arms at night so badly, but I can't risk hurting you."

"We'll get there," she promised him. She tried to count in her head how many negatives she'd given. She'd only given three so far. "I'm not sure this is really a negative , but I like riding on the back of your bike. Like a lot . Like I don't want to get off at the end of the ride a lot ."

"Definitely not a negative." Jumper smiled. "I feel the same way."

"Will you teach me how to drive?"

Jumper raised an eyebrow. "You want to drive a motorcycle?"

She nodded. "I think it would be fun. I was thinking that maybe we could take some road trips and, if I know how to, then I can help with the driving if you get tired."

"Fuck, I love that idea." He leaned forward and kissed her, keeping their heads close. "I'll teach you how to drive, but you'll need to take safety courses and a state driver's exam to get your license."

She smiled. "Okay."

"Where do you want to go on these road trips?" His voice was lower now, nearly a whisper.

She shrugged, answering just as softly. "Anywhere. I've never been outside of Pennsylvania. I went to college here too. I've never even seen the ocean."

"I'll take you," he promised. "We'll go as far as the roads can take us."

"I still need one last negative," she murmured, not wanting to get lost in the fantasy of riding cross country on the back of his motorcycle.

"There are no negatives about you."

"I think you missed the point of this exercise if you still can say that," she laughed.

Jumper shrugged. "Don't care. Nothing about you is going to knock you off of your pedestal, no matter how many times the doctor makes us play this stupid game."

Jasmine smiled at his flippancy. "I hate wearing bras. Like, hate with a fiery passion. I'd burn them all if I could. As soon as I walk through the door of my apartment, it comes off and I wait until the very last possible minute to put it on before having to go to work."

"Definitely not a negative in my book. You could go braless for the rest of your life and I'll die a happy man."

"Yeah, I guess that one would fail as a negative in your book." She loved being this close to him. Breathing him in. It was like they were in their own little world, a bubble made just for them. "Can I tell you a secret?"

He nodded against her. "Anything."

"There's nothing negative about you either."

Jumper pulled up outside of Jasmine's apartment building. They were both wiped after the session with Dr. Rutenberg. Jasmine had called her people at the clinic, who assured her that everything was taken care of, there were no emergencies, and she should go home. Jumper planned on taking her back to the clubhouse where Sophia was puppy-sitting with the help of the club kids, but Jasmine wanted to grab something from her apartment first.

Unlike others in the club, Jumper did not have a firearms carry permit. Pennsylvania Law stated that one could carry in the open without a permit, but required a permit if the weapon was in a vehicle or concealed on a person. Jumper didn't own a gun, not since he'd left the Navy. The main reason for that was he didn't trust himself—not the possibility of using it on himself, but the possibility that he might use it on someone else while experiencing a flashback.

After Jasmine and he dismounted from his Indian , Jumper released Aerial from her harness in the sidecar. He had his SOG knife, a seven-inch blade he'd trained with and carried as a SEAL. As long as he could remain in his head, he was proficient and dangerous with only the blade. However, there was no doubt in his mind that the McCrery brothers were carrying firearms.

Jasmine unlocked the outer door. He reached around her and opened the door, scanning their surroundings as he did. An old woman was coming down the stairs towards the exit doors. He closed the doors so they would lock, with the intention of reopening them when the lady drew closer. However, she stopped to talk to Jasmine first.

Despite having lived in Mount Grove for six years, Jumper didn't know the residents of this small town like his brothers did. He hadn't made the effort to integrate himself into everyday smalltown life. He knew certain people—the ones who frequented the Harley-Davidson dealership the club owned or Mabel at Loafin' Around because he loved her homemade cider—but he made no effort to make friends here. Watching Jasmine and the older woman chat, it became obvious how reclusive Jumper had become. One might never believe he used to be the life of the party.

When Jasmine's face fell in her conversation with the older lady, Jumper stepped forward. Aerial obediently followed.

Jasmine turned to Jumper quickly. "Mrs. Guthrie says my boyfriend was around earlier asking about me. She didn't recognize him so she didn't let him in the building, but he wanted into my apartment."

Jumper felt his blood heat with anger at this. "Can you describe him?"

"Tall man, like yourself. He was clean shaven though with just a hint of a five o'clock shadow. Green eyes. He had mud all over him too. Didn't like me telling him he wasn't allowed in. If Mr. Porter hadn't walked by when he did, I think he would have tried to push past me." She turned to Jasmine. "You're better than that, dear. Need to find yourself a nice, respectful man."

Jasmine put her hand on Jumper's arm. "Mrs. Guthrie, this is my boyfriend, Marshall Sager, but everyone calls him ‘Jumper'. He's a mechanic over at Grumpy's garage."

Mrs. Guthrie turned her spectacled gaze on Jumper. She narrowed her eyes as she ran them up and down him. She noticed Aerial and her service vest as well as Jumper's cut. Then she faced Jasmine again. "He'll do."

Jasmine gave a wide smile.

"He wasn't the man who was here before, doll."

Jasmine's smile fell. "He knew my name and that this was my apartment building?" She looked at Jumper with obvious concern.

Mrs. Guthrie nodded. "Said you were supposed to meet him for a date but didn't show. Wanted to make sure you were okay."

Jumper glanced up the stairs. Just because Mrs. Guthrie hadn't allowed the man entry into the building, didn't mean he hadn't found another way in. He reached for Jasmine's arm. "We're leaving."

"But I need to get my?—"

"I'll send someone over for it later. I'm not risking you walking into a trap." He turned to Mrs. Guthrie. "Thank you for letting us know. If you see that man again, you call the police."

Though concerned, the older woman nodded.

Jumper pulled Jasmine towards the door. He stepped outside first, making sure his body blocked Jasmine's. He kept her at his back, her hands in his shirt, as he guided her towards his sled. Aerial was also on alert.

They were nearly there when two men stepped out from behind a dumpster.