Chapter Thirteen
Jarrett
I’m fucking buoyant when I pull into the drive.
I have the help of someone I trust in putting together this charity thing for my club, and I have someone in our club’s command who understands that I have more to offer than being some party planner. He understands this isn’t me trying to scratch some combat itch — this is about doing what’s best for the club. For my brothers. My family.
Except for Bear, there’s no one else with the military training that I have. There’s no one else that’s seen the kind of action I have and the bullet wounds and battle scars to prove it.
With the fate of our club on the line, not doing everything possible to safeguard the mission is just foolish.
But that’s about to change. Things are moving my way.
I’m grinning when I come inside. And my smile gets wider seeing her. Hips jutting out to the side, beer in her hand, smile slanting across her beautiful face and a fire in her eyes.
I haven’t felt this way in ages. I smile at her and I fucking mean it.
Last time I remember feeling like this was two years ago. I had a tough-as-nails woman by my side, I spent time with her kid — a kid too damn good for the circumstances they were stuck in — and I had a mission: do whatever it takes to pull them out of the shit they were stuck in.
I’m starting to feel that fire again.
And when I look into her eyes, that fire inside me burns brighter.
“You’re looking good,” she says. “A lot better than earlier. I like it. What happened?”
I might be feeling great, but I’m still not going to let her in on club business. Especially something as big as this.
“Things are just taking a good turn with the club. I got the go-ahead to keep you in on this charity project, for one thing.”
“That’s a start. But I don’t see why they wouldn’t since this charity event is important and they want it to happen. What else? I haven’t seen you smile like this since the three of us took that trip to Vegas together.”
My face might freeze like this, thinking about her son. I don’t usually care for kids, but there’s something about that little guy and how tough he was, not letting everything that’d happened to Selena and the rest of his family bring him down.
“It’s club business.”
“Fair enough.” That’s all she needs to hear to know to stay out of it, because she’s spent enough time in this lifestyle to know what lines not to cross. If it’s something club-related that she needs to know, I’ll tell her. But until then, she’ll stay in her lane. “So, what now?”
“Do you have a handle on your shit?”
“Since when does it matter to you?” She says, eyes glinting teasingly.
“Since you fucking helped me out. Since you showed up on my doorstep saying you needed a place to lie low,” I say. “What’s really going on with your situation?”
A shadow dampens the smile on her face and eclipses the fire in her eyes.
“It’s complicated.”
“You know, there’s a lot my club and I could do to help. If you’re going to be living here for a while, why not let me do something?”
She shakes her head side to side quickly, like she’s trying to cast off the shadows in her eyes. But all that happens is those shadows grow darker.
“You’re doing all I need you to do. Trust me, Jarrett, this isn’t something you can work out with your fists and some bullets. Give me some time, some space when I need it, and that’s it.”
She could repeat what she’d said until the end of time and I doubt I’d ever fully believe her. There’s something behind her hazel eyes that I can’t quite put my finger on. But it’s not my place to ask questions because I have no idea what she might’ve been through in the two years since I last saw her. Plus, she’s doing me the favor of helping me out with this event thing. The least I can do is keep my nose out of her fucking business.
“Fine,” I say, looking her over, putting my mind to work thinking up something that could light that fire back in her eyes. The last thing I want is her in some bad mood, or, even worse, deciding to focus on her own shit rather than helping me with this charity event. Then it hits me. I grin.
“Grab your jacket and follow me.”
* * * * *
We rip down the highway on my bike, going fast enough the cars scream as we fly by them. Selena’s got her hands around my chest, her chin against my back, and her hair is whipping in the wind. This is freedom.
About forty miles south of Stony Shores, running parallel along the interstate, is a big old sprawling military base. Joint Base Lewis-McChord. A combination Army Base and airfield for the US Air Force. It borders the interstate for miles and stretches far back into the hills and forests.
If you keep going past the base, after about ten miles on you’ll see a faded sign for a bar: ‘The Broken Wing’. If you follow that sign, it’ll take you to a building that looks like it should’ve been condemned twenty years ago.
“What the hell, Jarrett? This place looks like it belongs in that ‘Hostel’ movie,” she says, taking off her helmet and looking up at the bar.
“That’d probably be an improvement,” I admit. “This is a bar where a lot of those desk jockey Air Force guys come to unwind.”
“I’m still not following you. You brought me to a bar to drink with a bunch of government office workers? Did I do something to piss you off?”
“I didn’t bring you here just to drink with them. They’ve got pool tables, here. These guys make decent cash, they love to drink, and they deserve a good kick in the dick every once in a while.”
Her eyes light up. The corners of her lips lift upward. “You mean?”
I give her the same line that she gave me all those years ago. “How would you like to help me rob this place?”