Twisted

Chapter 2

Jaeger Duke

Present Day

Charlotte, North Carolina

"How's it hangin', old man?"

"Christ, could you be any more unprofessional, Johnathon?"

Johnathon Jaeger Duke was everything his father was not; physical, brutish, with no sense of self-preservation. Nothing in this world stood a chance to tame him, and nothing ever would. Jaeger liked it that way; being as unpredictable and wily as a cat, but as strong and ruthless as a pitbull.

His hands were scarred and tatted, hands that were skilled for one purpose only; to kill. He slumped into the metal chair next to his father, their family's lawyer in the middle. Zechariah Duke smoothed his palms over his stiff business suit, eyeing his disheveled, biker gang-esque son with disdain. Jaeger could see it in those beady, watery eyes of his.

His father had wanted a prodigy, and was instead blessed with Jaeger; a high school educated man that was still somehow smarter than even his father's lawyer, but without a conscience or a shred of morals. He was depraved as a youth, setting fire to dumpsters behind the private school he'd been forced to attend with his sister, and as soon as he'd turned eighteen, he'd disappeared into the mist. No one ever knew where he was or what he was doing or what he did for a living.

But one phone call from his father had snapped him back to Charlotte faster than he'd run from it. He cared not for his father's shady business or the shit storm it had caused; however, he did care for his baby sister. He'd seen her only once since he up and left ten years ago, and he wasn't sure how all that time would have changed her. He hated that fucker Randy she'd married. If she had killed him, he thought, good for her.

Either way, he knew he was here to mop up the mess his family had caused. He would do it for Lindsay and then get his ass out of here. His other boss was...well, much more important than his father in the grand scheme of things. The little, twitchy lawyer shuffled all his papers together onto the table before he pushed his glasses up his nose.

There was a loud buzzer noise before the door on the other side of the glass clicked open, and in walked Lindsay, dirty blond hair falling in limp tendrils to her ribs, her orange jumpsuit and the flickering fluorescent lights doing her already gaunt features no favors. She'd been beautiful in youth with those high cheekbones and deep set eyes the color of moss, but now she looked venomous, a coiled snake about to strike. Jaeger's crossed arms flexed at the sight of his sister. Whatever had happened between now and then had changed her for the worse.

She sat herself across from them, her eyes already welling with frigid, pissed off tears. Jaeger felt his jaw tick. Whoever had done this—committed a double homicide and framed Lindsay—they would pay, and they would pay in a way only the twisted mind of Jaeger could conjure. He felt sick joy at the thought alone.

Her eyes flicked to his, and her facade crackled briefly. He sat still as stone, not one to indulge many emotions. Their father reached for Lindsay's hands under the glass wall, and she shifted with a metallic clang of her cuffs to hold onto her hope.

"Why'd ya do it?"

"For fuck's sake, Johnathon!" their father hissed, shooting him a condemning glare. Lindsay was already shaking her head, her lips twisted into a sneer. She'd perfected that look, one adopted from their bitch of a mother.

"I didn't, Jaggy, I swear."

He softened at her childhood nickname for him. With a booted foot, he hooked the leg of his chair and scooted it back so he could lean forward and study her features more clearly. His appraisal was short; he didn't need much time to see she wasn't lying.