Broken Process

by Bethany Jadin

  “Thank you, for the offer,” I tell him with a grin, “but I’d really like to get some fresh air and stretch my legs. Plus, I think I should do the shopping myself.” Jude already has his hand raised and his mouth open to protest, but I beat him to it. “But I would be very grateful if one of you came with me.”

  5

  Emma

  Everyone makes a move to follow me out the door, but Jax plants his foot on the coffee table and vaults over it.

  “On it,” he says, grabbing his leather jacket off the back of the couch. He gives his twin an eat shit, I win smirk as he slips his jacket on.

  Jude glowers at him, but there’s a laugh in his eyes. “Keep your eyes peeled, asshole,” he yells as Jax closes the door behind him.

  We bound down the stairs together, and I unlock the main door of the building. As soon as we step outside, Jax is on high alert. His eyes scan the street, taking in everything — the vehicles parked at the curb, the people getting out of the cab across the road, the man jogging ahead of us. Nothing appears out of the ordinary to me, but he doesn’t look like he trusts any of it.

  I glance around, too, and even though everything seems okay, I’m wary of every sound and movement. I don’t have the military training of the guys, or Jax’s history of dealing with rough characters. If something was off, I’m not sure I would spot it in time to react. And that makes me nervous as hell.

  “Hey, you doing okay?” Jax dips his head toward me as we walk.

  I nod and tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. “Yeah, I think so. I mean, as good as can be expected, I guess.”

  “It’ll be okay, Emma.”

  I let out a deep sigh and look away from Jax’s gaze. “I hope so,” I tell him, trying to keep my voice even. But I’m a terrible liar, and I’m sure he can hear that I don’t believe my own words.

  “We’ll make sure they never get near Zoey again — or you.”

  “I appreciate what you guys are doing. Thank you, really, it’s been a godsend to have you all with us these last few days.” I flash him the biggest smile I can summon before resuming staring straight ahead, watching cautiously as the headlights of an approaching minivan slow down.

  “You know we’ll do whatever we can. And Jude’s guys are good.”

  The minivan comes to a stop against the curb about a dozen yards ahead of us.

  “I know.”

  A man gets out of the driver’s side of the minivan and opens the sliding door to the passenger area, leaning in.

  “They’ll help sort this mess out.”

  I don’t say anything, but my pace falters, my eyes still on the minivan. A moment later, the man pulls out a stroller and unfolds it then lifts an infant car seat out of the van. A tiny bit of tension eases from my shoulders as I watch him fumble with fastening the car seat onto the stroller, and I resume my normal stride.

  We’ve only gone three blocks, but already I’m regretting the decision to walk instead of taking the car. I thought a stroll in the crisp evening air would help me clear my head, but instead I’m ready to jump out of my skin.

  “Jude has some pretty powerful connections.”

  I study his face for a moment out of the corner of my eye. “It seems you do, too. Tracing Zoey’s phone? That’s not nothing.”

  His body stiffens for a split second, but I catch it. “Yeah, well, the people I know are on the other side of the fence, so to speak.”

  A loud shot makes me jump, my stomach clenching tightly, every muscle in my body tensing at once. I dive to the curb, taking cover beside a blue pickup truck, but Jax doesn’t follow me. Instead, he reaches for my hand and pulls me back to a standing position.

  “It’s okay, it was just a car backfiring.”

  I huddle against him as he points down the street. An older model car lurches forward, a puff of smoke coming from the tailpipe, and I can hear the driver grinding the gears.

  Embarrassment floods through me. “Jesus Christ.”

  “Do you want me to call the guys? One of them could come pick us up.”

  “No, it’s okay.” I turn away from Jax, trying to hide the color on my cheeks as I straighten my jacket and smooth my hair into place. “I’m just jittery, that’s all. But I need to move past it.”

  We begin walking again, but Jax is now watching me like a hawk out of the corner of his eyes, and it’s not helping the heat leave my face.

  “You did the right thing back there, diving for cover. Good instincts.”

  “Ha!” I snort. “Don’t patronize me, Jax — I looked like an idiot. You didn’t even flinch.”

  He shakes his head with a grim expression. “It’s a good thing that you haven’t been around gunfire enough to tell the difference.”

  I pull my jacket tighter against me as we walk, wondering once again what the hell kind of situations Jax has been involved in. “And you have?”

  He glances at me for just a split second, and although he doesn’t say anything, the haunted look in his eyes provide the answer.

  Just ahead of us, the double doors of a yogurt shop open, and a large group of people spills out, carrying brightly colored cups and cones stacked with swirled confections. We maneuver around them, Jax glued to my side.

  “How far is this store?” he asks once we’re past the crowd.

  I look at the street signs of the intersection we’re approaching. “Damn, we’re only halfway there,” I admit. “Sorry, I’m not as familiar with this area of the neighborhood. It’s a longer walk than I thought.”

  “That’s okay,” he says with one of his trademark sexy grins. “I don’t mind more time with you.”

  That brings a smile to my face, but inside I’m still shaking. I don’t know how he manages to keep his cool like that. Every second we’re out here is making me more and more nervous.

  Jax glances behind us for a long moment, and instantly I imagine that someone is following us, the hairs on my neck standing up.

  But when he turns back around, his expression is normal. “Daniel and I checked your equipment, by the way. Doesn’t look like they messed with any of it.”

  I nod. “He told me. That’s one good thing, I guess.”

  “Yeah, it looks like they just wanted to grab Zoey.”

  Instantly, as if an augmented reality app in my head just turned on, my brain begins to replay the scenes I’ve imagined. Zoey being overtaken by two large men and being dragged outside. As the images play out in my mind, overlaying the sights of the city street in front of me, it’s all I can do to keep putting one foot in front of the other. Dread rises in my chest as I taste a tiny bit of the terror she must have felt.

  Jax continues, oblivious to the horror unfolding in my head. “Or maybe they didn’t have time to do anything else because they spotted you pulling up outside or something.”

  “Maybe,” I manage to say, but an involuntary shiver runs through me at his words. I know he’s trying to be reassuring, to give me confidence that they didn’t hack my computer, but the idea that I might have been coming in the front door of the building as they were ushering Zoey out the back door into a waiting van in the rear alley makes my skin crawl.

  “I’m just glad they didn’t grab you.”

  “Jesus, Jax,” I say, wrapping my arms around me.

  The sun has set now, and the air is getting colder as the last of the light fades, but that’s not what’s chilling me. Instead of feeling safer under the cover of night, I feel more exposed. The lack of sleep is starting to play tricks on my mind. I’m seeing shadowy figures lurking in the dimly lit alleys we pass, seeing hard eyes staring at me from darkened windows as cars drive by.

  “Sorry,” he says quickly.

  “It’s okay,” I say absentmindedly, because my eyes have darted across the street to a large panel van parked crooked in front of the store, its rear end blocking part of the road. I step closer to Jax as we walk, my eyes glued on the plain white van. Its engine is running, and the driver is nowhere in sight. Probably just a routi
ne delivery, but all sorts of unsavory scenarios are running through my mind.

  “I didn’t mean to upset you,” he says. “I’m just rambling.”

  “The sentiment is nice,” I tell him as my eyes sweep along the sidewalks, looking for... what, exactly? Big guys with duct tape in their hands? Men with ski masks? “But... the topic isn’t helping my nerves.”

  “Gotcha. Subject change then, okay?”

  “Thanks,” I say, even though what I really want to do is just walk in silence. I’m struggling to keep up with the conversation and pay attention to everything around me at the same time. I know Jax is being vigilant, but I can’t put it all on him. I don’t want to come across as rude, especially not when he’s volunteered to walk in the cold with my crazy ass.

  I notice he’s staring off in the distance, and his gait slows. I pause, my heart pounding.

  “What is it?” I ask as we both come to a stop.

  “I have an idea,” he says, pulling out his phone. “But lemme call Jude first.”

  We duck out of the foot traffic, stepping under the awning of a drugstore. I watch, nervous and curious as I listen to his side of the phone call.

  “Hey, just checking in. Yep, we’re fine.”

  I mouth, How’s Zoey?

  “And Zoey? Okay, good,” Jax says, giving me a reassuring nod before turning his attention back to his brother on the other end of the call. “I don’t know. We’re not to the store yet, and we might make a stop along the way.” There’s a pause, and Jax rolls his eyes, huffing into the phone with a smile. “That’s not what I meant. Yeah, well, fuck you, too. Next time, you’ll get off your ass a little faster, won’t you? Okay, see you soon. Bye.”

  “What was that about?” Even though I only got Jax’s side of the exchange, I can imagine what his twin said.

  “Jude’s mind is in the gutter. And he’s a sore loser.”

  “I didn’t know a walk in the cold with me was a contest.”

  “Well, if it is, he lost,” Jax says with a chuckle. “I think he’s a little jealous.”

  “That you’re out here freezing your ass off with me?”

  “Yep.”

  I shake my head as a strong breeze whips across my face, numbing my cheeks and nose. “You’re both crazy.”

  “Well, I’d like to monopolize your time a little more, if you’re up for a detour.”

  “Oh? And what would that involve?” I mean the question innocently, but as soon as the words leave my lips, I’m blushing.

  Jax gives me a slow, wicked grin. “I think you could use something hot and stiff.”

  My mouth falls open with a laugh of surprise. “What?”

  His grin widens. “I mean a hot toddy, a strong one. Now whose mind is in the gutter?”

  “No way,” I protest, still laughing. “You’re not putting that one on me. You’ve been spending too much time with Gunner.”

  He shrugs and gives me a wink. “Maybe, we both have,” he says, and that hungry look in his eyes is back.

  As I stare up at him, everything else disappears — all the traffic, the people, the potential dangers lurking in the shadows. All I can think about when he looks at me like that is how fast I can get naked.

  6

  Jax

  She tips her head back and swallows the shot in one gulp then slams the thick glass on the rough wooden table between us, twirling her finger in the air for the next round. “I need another,” she says as soon as she swallows down the stout liquid.

  Emma had raised a wary eyebrow at me when I suggested a quick pit stop for a drink, but she took my hand, and together we zig-zagged through the streets to one of my old haunts. Sure, it was a few minutes out of our way, and the neighborhood I’ve brought her to isn’t the best place to be after dark, but I also figure it’s the last sort of place BHC will be looking. And besides, I’m damn sure no one’s going to fuck with her as long as I’m by her side.

  When we rounded the final street corner and her eyes landed on the row of Harleys lined up out front, she balked a little. Two dozen bikes. Some decked out in chrome, others matte-black. Choppers with high handles. The emblems of motorcycle clubs airbrushed onto gas tanks. Worn patterns on the saddles and hand grips.

  It’s a sight I’m fond of, but I know it’s not a world Emma’s used to. I stood with her for a moment, letting her get her bearings. After a few words of reassurance from me, she took a deep breath and let me lead her inside.

  That was thirty minutes ago. She’s warmed up to the place quite nicely since then. Maybe too much.

  I grabbed us a small table in the corner near the bar and ordered her the drink I promised. She downed that hot toddy like it was water and she’d been dying of thirst. No little sips for her — it was gone in two minutes. When I ordered a shot for myself, she asked for one, too. And then another. And a third, which she just slammed down.

  She spins the shot glass on the table, waiting for me to signal the bartender for another round.

  I’m not sure she needs more to drink. She’s barely slept in days and hasn’t eaten much that I’ve seen, either. But for the first time in a long while, she’s relaxed. Her usual sparkle is back. And I can’t say no to that, so when the bartender looks over, I hold up her empty glass and nod my head.

  Emma smiles with approval and gets up from her seat, heading for the jukebox. The burn of the alcohol racing through her has warmed her up, and she’s filled with new energy, a sexy bounce in her step as she walks away. When she reaches the jukebox she looks over her shoulder to see if I’m watching.

  Hell yes, I’m watching. Partly because I can’t take my eyes off those curves of hers, and partly because I recognize that look on her face right now. It’s one I’ve worn myself, far too many times.

  I know how good it can feel to drown sorrows and regrets in shot after shot until I’m drinking straight out of the bottle. To feel it fortify me as it numbs, to lift me up with new strength against the weight of the world. But it’s a false high. One minute I’m bulletproof, ready to conquer the world, and the next minute I’ve woken up in hell, realizing I’ve crashed into the middle of something worse than what led me to drink in the first place. It’s a vicious cycle.

  After the second shot, I realized we’re probably not going to make it to the store, after all. Right now, she’s blissed out on a good buzz, but eventually it’ll catch up to her, and that’s probably the best thing that could happen at this point — if she passes out, at least she’ll sleep tonight. I have a feeling I’ll be calling one of the guys to swing by and pick us up before too long.

  So, I’m watching her like a hawk as she bends over the jukebox and takes care to stick her ass out an extra bit in my direction. I know it’s for my benefit, but I’m not the only one looking.

  There aren’t many women who walk into a place like this looking the way Emma does. She’s smart and sassy, and in most circles, no one would mistake her for anything but a sharp-witted woman who can handle her own business. But in here, she looks like freshly whipped sweet cream with virginal sugar sprinkled on top.

  I see an album cover appear on the screen, and I think, no. She’s not going to pick that song. No fucking way. But she does.

  Emma turns to me with a smile on her lips. Her eyes light up with the hint of something mischievous, her hips swaying as the song begins and the first heavy guitar riff kicks in. I can see that alcohol-fueled, cocksure attitude all over her face as sure as she’s shouting it at me: I’m feeling goooood!

  Every guy in here looked up when we walked in, and most of them haven’t stopped glancing over at us ever since. They’ve looked away when I’ve caught their gaze, pretending to be interested in their beer or their buddies, but now Emma’s by herself, and they’re not trying to hide their stares anymore.

  She touches her hands to her throat then runs her palms around to the back of her neck, gathering her hair as she goes. She’s swaying more and more seductively as she sweeps her fingers up past the top of her head th
en lets the hair fall down her back slowly.

  Her sensuous movements combined with the explicit nature of the song have drawn the attention of everyone sitting nearby. She closes her eyes and runs her hands back down her neck and further south, along the sides of her breasts. She turns her hands, smoothing her palms across her waist, down to her thighs.

  Emma opens her eyes and locks onto me once more, every inch the vixen. Her lips part just enough for it to be a sultry invitation, and there’s a fire in her eyes I’ve never seen before, a challenge — Come over here and stop me. I dare you.

  So, I let her go. I let her do what she needs to. For now.

  I shift in my seat, shielding my arousal, but I know that if I’m getting hard, I’m not the only guy in this bar sporting wood. I tear my eyes from Emma, casting around the room for any asshole getting too excited. There’s a few too many eager-looking fuckers for my comfort, and I’m already aching to knock those looks off their faces.

  The bartender motions at her and sets two shots on the edge of the bar. Emma sashays over, her hips rolling, that fine ass of hers looking incredible in those jeans. I lift my foot onto the rung of one of the chairs at the table beside our booth to further conceal how turned on she has me. Emma tosses her long hair and turns to me. She raises one of the shot glasses and gives me a wink then downs it in one fluid motion.

  Before I can blink, she has the next shot glass in her hand — the one that’s supposed to be mine — and repeats the motion.

  I catch the bartender’s eye and slide my hand in front of my throat, the universal gesture for she’s cut off. No more shots for Emma. But she doesn’t notice, because she’s inspecting the bar top, running her hands over it before giving it a push, almost as though testing the firmness of a mattress.

  She looks at me out of the corner of her eye, and I shake my head, giving her a don’t you do it look, but she narrows her eyes and smiles, taking it as a dare. With a quick motion, Emma pulls herself on top of the bar and stands up.