He trails off, chewing his lip. It’s like he doesn’t know what to say. That’s not who I remember. Not the man I knew. The Jax I daydreamed about was strong and fierce, always quick with a witty line: the kind of guy who walks on the border of cockiness and arrogance and somehow gets away with it. But right now, he looks wracked with guilt – almost like he’s seen a ghost.
Jax clenches his fists. The way he’s grimacing, it looks like he’s doing battle in that perfect blonde head of his.
“I didn’t know a damn thing, okay?” Jax spits. He looks guilty – and I suddenly realize why he’s acting like he is. “I didn’t know that you would be in the trailer. I didn’t know it would be a girl – believe me, I never would’ve taken the job –.”
“I believe you, Jax,” I say.
My voice is quiet and low. I sound stunned – and it’s because I am. I get why Jax isn’t acting like himself. He didn’t come to save me – he had no idea that I was going to be here at all. I can’t imagine what’s going through his head. I’m sure that he hasn’t thought about me once in the whole time we were separated. I don’t blame him. I pushed Jax away in the first place. He’s not to blame for any of the twisting, messed-up paths my life took after he left.
“I just don’t understand how this happened. Why is it you? How is it you?” I ask. “Out of all the people in the world – why you?”
Jax shakes his head. His icy gray eyes glitter in the flickering light from the stove. “Hell if I know,” he growls. “But you need to tell me what’s going on, Alex. How the hell did you end up in that trailer? Where have you been?”
The last sentence comes out as a pained cry. I suddenly realize that Jax isn’t putting on an act – his usual cocky, joking façade has disappeared because he’s terrified for me. I didn’t know I meant that much to him. It feels nice – but it also tears me up inside.
“Jax,” I whisper, tears prickling my eyes. “I –”
I stop dead. I have no idea how I can explain what’s happened to me since I pushed Jax away. I thought I had the perfect life, but it turned to dust. I don’t know how to form the words in my mouth – it’s like I’ve forgotten how to speak.
Jax’s phone buzzes in his jeans pocket. I seize on it. It’s a way out – an excuse not to have to talk, not to have to explain to Jax why I’m here.
“Are you going to get that?” I ask. I feel like there’s an elephant sitting on my chest, squeezing my vocal chords. Every time I speak my words sound strangled.
Jax pulls his cell phone from his pocket. He presses a finger against his lips. “Don’t say a word, understand?” He growls. His voice is low and threatening. I know he’s not aiming it at me. Still, I wouldn’t want to be the guy on the other end of that phone call. “The longer it takes for them to figure out I let you go, the better – for both of us.”
Jax taps the screen twice: first on to the call, second to put it on speaker.
“Ryan,” he grunts. “Why are you calling?”
Ryan, whoever he is, doesn’t waste time on pleasantries. “Where are you?”
“Why are you asking?” Jax replies. “You’ll get your package.”
“Why have you stopped?” The mysterious man asks. “The package you’re transporting is very valuable to my client. That means it’s very valuable to me. So I’ll ask you again – why have you stopped?”
Jax leaps to his feet. I hear the subtle change as his breathing deepens. It’s hard to miss in this tiny cabin. “You’re tracking me?” He asks, his voice gruff and low. “That wasn’t part of the deal, Ryan. My job –”
“Your job is to drive.” The mystery man says, gravel in his voice. “You’re not driving. Listen, Jax. I like you. We’ve got a past together, and I respect that. In fact, it’s out of respect for that past that I’m giving you one last chance. I sent you because you weren’t supposed to draw attention. The people my client will send to retrieve his property… Let’s just say they stand out in a crowd…”
Jax grimaces. His jaw is set, fingers balled into fists. He looks like a weapon – like I could pick any direction I chose and he would travel along it, destroying anything in his way. He looks terrifying; I’m just glad he’s on my side. At least, I think he’s on my side …
“You’ll get your package,” Jax growl, “then we’re done.” He kills the phone call.
I look up at Jax anxiously. “Did he buy it?” I ask. The look on Jax’s face is the only answer I need – not a chance in hell.
“I need your help,” Jax grunts. He paces towards me, and grabs my wrist. I feel an electric crackle as he touches me, but I don’t think Jax notices. He’s dead set on keeping me safe, and that’s all he cares about.
“I don’t think you’re in any fit state to move, not yet. Not for a couple of hours, at least. Your pulse is way too erratic.”
“So what’s the plan?” I ask. I want to explain to Jax how grateful I am that he’s here and that he’s helping me. Just like before, I can’t find the words. “What are we going to do?”
There’s another question in my voice. Are we going to make it out of this?
Jax sits on the bed next to me. He looks like he doesn’t know whether I’ll be okay with him touching me.
I make his mind up for him, and lean into him. The weight of his arm around my shoulders – I don’t want to say “is worth its weight in gold,” but it is. It so is. I’ve never been in more danger, and yet, at the same time, I haven’t felt this safe in years.
I know – against all the evidence – that Jax will find us a way out of this mess. He always does. I never should have pushed him away.
“I’m going to help you, Alex,” he says, turning to face me. His lips are only a couple of inches from my ear. I feel his heat on my body. It’s warming; exciting. I know my hormones are all messed up from whatever Jax shoved into my thigh to wake me up. I don’t care. I want to throw myself at him: and I will, just not right now.
Not yet.
I don’t know where we stand. I don’t know if Jax is still hurting from what I said to him last time. “Whatever it takes,” Jax growls, “I’ll do it. You understand?”
Jax’s icy eyes are fierce. I almost want to look away, to hide from his gaze. I’ve never seen him like this. When we dated, he was always the joker: not now; not tonight.
I nod. My voice sticks in my throat. “Thank you, Jax,” I whisper. “I’m –” I tail off. I’m sorry, I think. But I still can’t say the words.
Jax stands up. “We don’t have long,” he growls. “We’re only a few hours out from Vegas – that’s where they’ll come from. We need to make this place a fortress.”
“What can I do?” I ask. I stand up. I want to show Jax that I’m not just dead weight; that I can be useful. My legs feel weak underneath me. I still can’t remember how I ended up in the trailer; it seems whatever they pumped into me wiped my memory. But through all that, I’m determined to help.
“Help me look for … for anything useful.”
Jax shoots me one last, long look. I can tell he’s dying to ask how this happened. I want to tell him – I do – more than anything. I just can’t. The memories hurt too much – not just the pain of what happened, but the embarrassment. I turn away, escaping from his gaze.
Jax lights half a dozen candles, and a rusted oil lamp. There’s enough flickering fire in the cabin to see clearly now – even if it does feel like we’re starring in an old western. The desert outside is pitch black. The only bonus, I guess, is that we’ll see anyone coming for miles around. The hairs stand up on the back of my neck as I think that. I’m not used to being … prey.
A wooden cabinet stands against the far wall. The cabin is small – so picking it out wasn’t a hard choice. If there’s going to be anything useful in this place, it will be in there.
I hear a screech, and turn my head to see Jax pushing a couch from one wall, right up to the door. He doesn’t block the entranceway – not yet – but puts the balls in motion, ready for when th
ey’re needed.
I tug at the old cabinet door, but it holds fast – locked. I cast my eyes around the room for a key, but nothing seems likely to fit. I can’t figure out what’s so special that it needs to be locked up – especially in this place. It’s hardly a holiday home. I wonder if I should ask Jax for help. With his strength, I’m sure he could reduce this door to splinters in seconds.
Hell no.
I pull at the door with all the strength in my body. Splinters of wood plunge underneath my fingernails, but somehow I manage to pull it loose. My eyes widen as I see what’s resting inside.
I turn to face Jax. For the first time, a smile lights up my face. I feel almost heady with relief. “Um, Jax…”
He’s crouching down on the floor, ripping up wooden floorboards to use for God knows what. “Yeah baby?” He says. A flash of warmth shoots through me when I hear him. “I mean,” he says, turning towards me guiltily. “What is it, Alex?”
“I think I’ve found something you might like…”
I reach into the cabinet, and my fingers close around something cold, thin, and metallic. From the dark depths, I pull out a hunting rifle. The wooden stock is chipped and dented, but the action is clean. The faintest black smudge of gun oil by the bolt tells me that this weapon has been well-cared for.
Jax leaps to his feet, hope flourishing in his eyes. “Please tell me,” he growls, “that this rifle comes with bullets…?”
I grin. Jax’s enthusiasm is infectious. For the first time, since Jax jabbed me in the thigh with God knows what, I’m not feeling weak. I rest the rifle on the floor, and reach back into the cabinet. When I pull my fingers back out, I’m clutching a small cardboard box. The rattling of loose rounds inside reminds me of popcorn crackling on the stove.
Jax rushes towards me. There’s a broad grin on his face, and a spring in his step. He closes the couple of yards that separates us, and hugs me. The bullets rattle once again as my hand falls to my side. Every time I smell Jax, and every time he touches me, I want to sink into his body. I wish I could stay here, cuddling him, forever. His arms surround me, crushing me against his perfectly contoured, muscled frame. I can barely breathe, but it’s a delicious problem to have.
“You just get better and better…” Jax growls as he pulls back to look at me. Our faces are an inch apart, noses almost tip to tip. I drag my tongue across my bottom lip, biting it. There’s an electrical energy between us.
“I’ve missed you, Alex Hunter,” Jax growls. His gray, clear eyes are focused directly on mine. I couldn’t look away if I wanted to. I don’t. I could stay here for the rest of my life, and never get bored. Jax’s eyes tell a story that only I can read – and right now it’s telling me that he wants to…
Kiss me.
His cheeks flinch before it happens. I guess it’s his tell – though I doubt anyone else could read it. I watch – in slow motion – as Jax blinks, then licks his lips. It all happens in a fraction of a second, but my desire has every nerve ending firing, and my brain working on overdrive.
His palms settle on my hips, pulling my body into his as his mouth presses against mine. It’s a tender, longing kiss. His tongue teases my lips open before he nips my bottom lip. It doesn’t just feel good, it feels right, as if I’ve been living in shades of black and white all this time, and Jax just took the glasses off my eyes and introduced me to a world of sub-kissed color.
He pulls back. “I’m sorry,” he says, voice hoarse with desire. “I couldn’t help myself. I know I’m moving too fast, but…”
I blink. My brain is slow and foggy. I feel like the drug that put me to sleep is taking over again – but I know it isn’t. What’s really happening is that I’m drunk on Jax’s presence, his touch, his kiss and his scent. I’ve dreamt of this for so long, that now that it’s happening, my brain is barely capable of believing it.
“Too fast?” I whisper. “Are you kidding? I’ve been waiting for that kiss for four years …”
Jax pulls me into his body. “I should have never let you go,” he whispers into my ears. His lips graze my skin, and I shiver with delight. But a cold chill fills me: the elephant in this cabin.
“You didn’t…”
Chapter 5
Alex
My fingers toy with the rifle cradled in my hands. I’m sitting down on the bed, and I have no idea how I got here. Jax is still looking at me expectantly. The weight of his stare pushes down on me from all angles; I’m at the bottom of the ocean with a million tons worth of mistakes crushing me down, holding me under.
I rest the rifle on my knees. I focus on it, rather than on Jax. I clear the bolt action chamber, fingers moving on autopilot. I found a cleaning kit in the cabinet by the rifle, and it’s with me on the bed. It’s comforting to concentrate on something concrete, instead of the emotions now running along the bridge I sense forming between us. What it’s made of, I don’t know. Electricity? Emotion, maybe. And the certain knowledge that alone, we are nothing.
“You didn’t,” I repeat, picking up a long metal rod, wrapping a short length of cotton to the end, and feeding it down the barrel of the rifle. I ram it down once, twice, and a third time, making sure that the barrel is clean. “Let me go, I mean. I pushed you away; I’ve spent the last four years regretting it.”
Jax stays silent. I still can’t bear to look up at my one-time lover, but I know from memory how he will be standing. Hands on hips, biceps slightly tensed.
My statement hangs between us like a pregnant cloud. I know that I can’t just leave it there, even though that’s what I want. If I could, I’d curl up into a ball and hide from Jax. That’s silly, isn’t it? We might have only hours to live and what am I worried about – the past. Hell, before Jax somehow appeared back in my life an hour ago, I thought I was already dead …
… or worse.
“God,” I whisper, my voice catching in my throat. “You don’t know how many times I’ve wished I could take those words back; how many hours I’ve spent cursing myself for listening to my parents. What the hell did they know –?”
“Alex…” Jack says, his voice rasping and broken. It sounds like he’s dragging his fingernails across coarse sandpaper. I shake my head.
“No – Jax. I was a silly little girl. Don’t try to deny it. I thought I was better than you. I listened to every damn, twisted word mom and dad said, and what happened? They got themselves killed, and left me on the run.”
I toss the cleaning rod aside. The cotton on the end looks clean, and I nod with a kind of detached satisfaction. My fingers don’t stop moving. I soak a clean white rack with black gun oil, and start wiping down the action chamber.
“Since when did you know your way around a gun?” Jax asks, his eyebrow rising. I know we’re both nibbling around the edges of what I just said, but I’m glad for it.
“I’ve learned a lot in the last couple of years,” I say. I make an attempt at smiling, but my voice is flat.
“Can you fire that thing as well as clean it?” Jax asks.
This time when I smile, it’s real. It’s silly, but I want to show off in front of Jax. I want to show him I’m no longer a helpless girl who needs someone look out for her. I’m so much more than that – or at least, I can be. I want to be.
“Wanna find out?” I smile, tossing the rag aside. I feed bronze-colored rounds into a five shot magazine, and chamber one.
Jax looks at me like I’ve appeared straight off the cover of Penthouse. He nods dumbly and jerks his head outside. I follow him. In what seems like just a couple of seconds, he fills the desert with light from his truck’s headlights.
“See that barrel out there?” He grunts, pointing out about seventy yards into the desert. My eyes follow, and barely make out a rusting oil barrel in the distance.
I nod.
“Reckon you can hit that?”
I chew my lip. It’s a long shot. At least it is for me. I’m better with handguns than I am with rifles. After all, the reason I learned to shoot was
to protect myself, not go hunting.
I don’t reply. I like that Jax doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t stand behind me, crotch pressed against my ass, like a dude from the gym pretending to show me how to lift. He just lets me do my thing. It’s respectful, and I like it.
I pull the bolt back. The metal scrapes, and I make a mental note to oil it better. I bring the wooden stock to my shoulder, and rest my chin against it, staring straight down the iron sights. I control my breathing. In, out. Pause. In, out. Pause.
My finger tightens on the trigger. I wait for that spot when my chest is not breathing in, or out, but hovering in the Goldilocks zone, and pull it. I imagine the jet of fire that escapes the barrel. The rifle’s retort splits the desert sky. I don’t flinch.
I pull the trigger again, and the rifle kicks into my shoulder again, but I don’t flinch. I pull again, and again, and again.
“How was that?” I say, bringing the empty rifle down to face the floor. I don’t turn to face Jax. I don’t feel triumphant. The truth is, I’m trembling; filling that barrel with holes while pretending like I do this kind of thing every day: it’s not easy. Especially not after the night I’ve had…
Jax whistles.
“Damn, girl. That’s some nice shooting,” he says. He sounds like both his eyebrows have jumped somewhere up around his hairline. “Remind me to never get on your bad side…”
I spin on my foot and hand the rifle back to Jax. He checks that the chamber and magazine are empty – it’s just instinct – and rests it by his side. His cheeks crease. “You okay?”
“Why aren’t you angry with me?” I ask in a hoarse voice. I stare directly at Jax, not looking away. I could so easily hide, but I’ve spent too long running. “I deserve it. I said things to you: horrible things. Why are you helping me?”
Jax pauses, thinking. He holds out his hand. “Bullets,” he growls, breaking away from my gaze.
I count out six, and place them into his open palm. I don’t know what’s going on, but I know that however Jax reacts, it’s up to me to accept it. He feeds them into the magazine, chambers the sixth, and clicks the magazine back into place.
Begging for Bad Boys Page 115
