“Better,” I say. “But what message are you trying to send exactly?”
Jagger considers my words, turning the choker over in his hands. “That I want to cut off her air supply while I fuck her.”
Okay, so I know the exact necklace he is after. He has been watching the clock app a little too much, but I get the appeal.
“Jagger,” Knox says, “you know this can’t go anywhere, right? Her brothers won’t allow it.”
“I’m aware.” Jagger moves to another display case, this one with more colorful options. “It’s what makes it interesting.”
“Interesting is one word,” I mutter. “Suicidal might be more accurate.”
I spot what he’s looking for, and I have to admit it’s perfect. It’s a simple silver choker, not too thick, not too thin, with a small red heart hanging down off a chain that tightens and loosens the choker. It isn’t cutesy or romantic, and the heart looks almost like a drop of blood.
“That’s the one,” I say.
Jagger looks up, follows my gaze, and his whole face changes. “Yeah. That’s the one.”
The salesperson, a college-aged girl with pink hair and multiple piercings, notices us hovering. “Can I help you guys find something?”
“That chain,” Jagger says, pointing to the one with the red heart. “Can I see it?”
She unlocks the case and pulls it out. Up close, it’s even better.
“It’s one of our most popular pieces,” she says.
Jagger takes it from her, running the chain between his fingers. “How much?”
“Forty-five.”
“Done.” He hands it back. “Can you gift wrap it?”
She smiles. “Of course. Any particular occasion?”
Knox coughs to cover a laugh. “It’s complicated,” he mutters.
While the girl wraps the chain in black tissue paper and slides it into a small silver bag, I wonder again at what we’re really getting ourselves into. Jagger’s had obsessions before, but they usually burn out as quickly as they start and never normally involve us.
“So what’s the plan?” I ask as we walk back to Jagger’s truck.
“Simple.” Jagger tosses the small bag in the air and catches it. “We give her the gift, set up the chase, and see what happens.”
“And if her brothers find out?”
Jagger grins. “Then it gets really interesting.”
Knox climbs into the passenger seat. “Are you sure you’re doing this for the right reasons?”
“We are in college and having fun. Does there even have to be a reason?” Jagger replies.
“She seems like a nice girl, and I have to continue to see her in class. I can’t fuck this up,” Knox says earnestly.
“Fair point,” I concede, settling into the back seat.
“But you’re still going to help?” Jagger asks.
“Yeah,” Knox admits with a sigh. “I’m still going to help.”
As Jagger starts the engine, I catch him looking at the gift bag in the center console. There’s something in his expression I can’t pinpoint, which is unsettling.
