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Hadn’t I just said the same thing to Elijah that morning? I suddenly understood why he’d argued with me about it. I didn’t have a life—I had an empty house, a routine that left me mostly alone, regrets that could have filled the Grand Canyon, and no one nearby to talk to when things went bad.

  Except Jinx. Lately, at least. “Maybe.”

  “Not maybe, son,” Parris said with a shake of his head. “You’ve got friends here and family that most people would kill for. It might not be the life you’d planned, but it’s an attractive one nonetheless.”

  “I guess so.”

  “Talk to Jinx. Compared to hers, your life looks like fucking Disneyland.” He stood and stretched. “I need to hit the head. Can you ask for the checks?”

  “Yeah. Sure,” I said, nodding. Knowing I’d left my wallet in my truck as I always did. The one thing I let myself forget without worrying over it since I would always remember where to find it.

  But my mind wasn’t on checks or paying Katie or wallets I simply couldn’t remember to hang on to; it wasn’t on anything in Justice, really. It was on Jinx and the scars that covered her arms. The pain in her eyes and the way she shut down whenever anyone tried to get close to her. Anyone but me.

  Maybe I would ask about her mom one of these days.

  And maybe, just maybe, I’d try to find a way to bring a little extra light to her life since she’d brought quite a bit to mine already. That meant I needed to make a trip to Rock Falls before heading into work for the night.

  Chapter Ten

  JINX

  Working in a bar meant eating bar food. The greasiness and lack of options really hadn’t been bothering me that much until Shye had come over with that pot roast sandwich. Don’t know what you’ve got until it’s gone… That pot roast was gone, and I wanted more. With extra potatoes this time. And carrots. I might have been hungrier than I’d thought. I needed to grab something before I started drooling on the bar.

  “Hey, Fish,” I hollered, catching the man in mid-lift. He’d been fiddling with the chairs all evening—cleaning them, flipping them upside down on the tables to replace the little metal feet, adjusting them until they were as solid as an oak tree in the forest. I’d never seen someone take such care of furniture in my life. And while watching him had been fun—the man had some serious muscles in those arms of his—my stomach needed not to be empty any longer. “I’m taking a break. I need to eat something.”

  “Sounds good.” He nodded, moving around the table to get the best angle on the chair he’d set his sights on. Not hurried in his movements. Casual and cool and altogether far too sexy.

  “You keep staring at that boy that way, and he’s going to come looking for what you’re offering.” Rhonda, a past-the-point-of-middle-age woman with a permanent football helmet haircut and some wicked eyeliner winging skills, took a sip of her Old Fashioned and gave me a wink. “Though maybe that’s what you’re wanting.”

  “We’re just friends.” The answer came automatically, but the words felt wrong. Sounded wrong, too. Were we friends? Only friends? We talked a lot at work, and he’d kissed me. A good kiss. A great one. But that hadn’t been repeated since. For days, I’d been expecting him to show up at my door and ask for more, but he hadn’t. So…maybe friends it was.

  Ugh.

  Rhonda was far more perceptive than I’d given her credit for. “Friends don’t look at friends like they want to hump them through the floor.”

  “Rhonda.”

  “What?” she said with a raise of her shoulders and an exaggerated innocent expression on her face. “I call them like I see them.”

  “Well, you can call them however you see fit. Silently. Or at home. When’s your ride coming?”

  She frowned and looked at her watch. “He should be outside already. You behave, girl.” She finished her drink and pushed the glass toward me before rising from her stool. It took her a little longer to put her coat on, her fingers shaking against the thick fabric. Rhonda was a good drunk—kind and sweet—but she was still drunk at four drinks in.

  There was no way she’d make it to the door without stumbling. “Why don’t I—”

  “Hey, Rhonda.” Finn swooped in, giving Rhonda a smile that made her eyes go unfocused and her own thin lips turn up. “I’m sorry I didn’t get to talk to you tonight. How are you doing? How’s Rusty?”

  The woman beamed—positively beamed—at Finn as he subtly and yet determinedly led her to the door. “Oh, Finn, you work too much. You should have more fun. That’s what I always tell my Rusty. My grandson is going to go to the grave without having a lick of excitement in his life. You know he’s working for your brother, right? Out on the mountains cutting trees just like his daddy and my dear husband did. Such strong men.”

  The two walked slowly to the door, Finn obviously holding her up at times and keeping her on her feet. All the while, she chatted and laughed, the social side of her loosening up under the lubrication of all that alcohol. And Finn never missed a beat—patting her arm, grinning, responding to her questions. He’d make sure she got to her ride’s car just fine so she could make it home. A good man, that Finn Kennard. A real good one.

  Friends. Ugh.

  I headed for the back, my thoughts trapped in a cyclone of Finn. Sweet, kind, strong, protective Finn. My friend. I’d called us friends. I hadn’t considered anyone a friend in a long time, but the label seemed to fit our relationship. Maybe. Friends hugged, right? I could look past the kiss—though I didn’t want to—because it seemed to be a one-time thing. Friends didn’t kiss. But they did hug and look out for one another. They thought about the other when they weren’t around. I mean, sure, thinking about Finn naked may have been a bit over the friend line, but that was normal too, right?

  “Food. Just get food, then back to work.” I beelined for the chest freezer to grab a frozen burger patty before hitting the small walk-in refrigerator at the back of the kitchen. Cheese. I needed cheese to complete the burger. And maybe a pickle. Pickles counted as something green, right? A vegetable? I missed those.

  But when I stepped into the fridge, what stood before me was not the usual potatoes and condiments and stacks of processed orange cheese product. Oh, no. The refrigerator had become a virtual forest. Green lined every shelf of the one side, creating an almost patchwork art piece of fruit and vegetables. Apples, celery, plastic boxes of lettuces of all kinds, cucumbers, asparagus, Brussels sprouts, even avocados. So much green—way too much.

  Green stuff…surprise me.

  Finn had remembered my casual request. And he’d definitely surprised me.

  I wrapped my hand around an apple all slow-like, as if the thing might disappear before I could grasp it. As if it was some weird part of my imagination. But the flesh felt cool and smooth against my skin, the apple heavy with the moisture within. Nope—totally real.

  When I’d been a kid, I’d asked my mom for more vegetables in the house, and she’d laughed at me. Had said only her Jinx would want more vegetables instead of fewer. She’d supplied them, though. Nothing like this—nothing extravagant. I’d gotten canned veggies and whatever had come out of the gardens of the old ladies at the club. I’d eaten every bit of it, knowing how much effort my mom had put into bringing all those things into my life.

  This was…ten times the effort. And a hundred times the result. “I will never be able to eat all this.”

  “Good thing I come with an appetite.”

  I spun, holding that bright green apple to my chest as if to hide the thumping of my heart behind it. Finn stood in the doorway, looking completely casual again with his shoulder resting on the jamb and his feet crossed at the ankles. I’d have called it a pose and wondered if he’d practiced it at home, but Finn wasn’t that type of guy. He wasn’t fake. This was just him being…all Finn-like.

  I liked it. A lot. “This is too much.”

  “You wanted green stuff.”

  “Yeah, but—”

  “I got you green stuff.”

  �
��And then some.” I looked over the wall of green again, an unfamiliar burn in my eyes making it hard to see. He’d listened to me, remembered something I wanted, and had gone above and beyond my simple request. He’d just rocked my entire world off its foundation…with produce. “No one has ever done so much.”

  “It was just a trip to the grocery store.”

  I faced him, shaking my head slowly. “No, it wasn’t. Not to me.”

  We were silent for a long moment, both of us staring at the other. Neither moving. I wanted to, though. Wanted to run to him and throw my arms around his neck. Wanted to press my body to his and steal some of his warmth. I wanted…and that desire might have been more terrifying than anything else. What if he didn’t feel the same? What if he did?

  “Hey, Jinx?”

  “Yeah?”

  Finn looked down and took a breath before refocusing on me, his eyes intense. Determined. Was he nervous?

  “I’d really like to hug you right now.”

  Blunt. Honest. I could only respond in kind. “I’d really like it if you hugged me right now.”

  He was on me in a heartbeat, had wrapped his arms around my waist and picked me up off the floor in the next. I clung to him and that ridiculous green apple, refusing to let go of either. Needing the security of both to keep me grounded, as just touching Finn might have sent my heart soaring into orbit.

  My body moved of its own accord, enveloping him. My legs lifting without my intention to wrap around his waist. My hands sliding up into his hair, gripping tightly to lock him to me. Every inch of me pressed against every inch of him. And Finn, he never faltered. Never loosened his hold or stumbled. He simply gripped me just as tightly, wrapped himself around me just as completely, and breathed into my neck as if he’d been suffocating without having me to hang on to. I knew that feeling. That tightness in the chest that came with being apart from him. I’d been living with it since the last time we’d hugged.

  I was tired of fighting the need.

  “Finn.” I kissed his neck, running my nose along the length of it and letting my lips follow. Letting them drag along his flesh. “Finn, please.”

  Finn met my whispered plea with a small groan as he slid his hands down to cup my ass. As he pressed our hips together tighter. Closer. I couldn’t hold back my own throaty moan as I answered his grip with a rock of my own, as I pressed against where he was so hard.

  But then he stiffened.

  “Sorry. I should have asked first,” he said, his voice tight as he moved his hands back up to my waist.

  That wasn’t what I wanted, though, so I did the only thing I could think of to tell him without words. I pressed another wet kiss to the base of his neck, licking him there as well. Moaning against him as I wiggled in his hold.

  “Touch me, Finn.”

  “Fuck,” he hissed, those hands coming right back to where I wanted them. His body responding to mine as I continued to kiss and lick and even bite his neck. “You’re killing me, Jinx.”

  “Same.” I reared back, needing to look into those eyes. To see his face. Needing to watch his expression. “You can kiss me.”

  He didn’t need to be told twice. In typical Finn fashion, he dipped slowly, keeping his eyes on mine. Giving me a chance to back out of my request. Not that I needed one. I arched into him, closing the distance so he could finally—finally—press his lips to mine in a kiss that I felt all the way down to my toes. Sweet but firm, his lips moved against mine. His hands held me up as he moved us to the shelves. As he pressed my back against that beautiful wall of green and softly traced my bottom lip with his tongue.

  As I hissed and jerked away from the pain that shot through me.

  “Sorry,” Finn said, spinning us around so his back was against the shelves instead of mine. “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah. Just…my back—”

  “Is hurt. Yeah, I picked up on that. I should have been more careful.”

  Sweet, sweet Finn. “It’s fine.” I kissed him again, wanting to get back to that feeling. Back to that place where nothing mattered but him and me and the heat of our bodies coming together. “Don’t stop, Finn.”

  “Are you sure?” he asked before once again teasing my lips with his. “I don’t want to push you.”

  “You’re not.” I opened my mouth and let my tongue meet his. Just a brush—a tease. A single taste. That was all I needed for my body to burn from within, though. “More, Finn.”

  He answered my request, groaning into my mouth as he tangled our tongues together. As he kneaded the flesh of my ass and pressed his body against mine. As he drove me to the edge of desire and threw me right over it.

  “Finn,” I whispered as he moved those wicked lips to my jaw. “I want—”

  But I didn’t get to finish my sentence. Didn’t get a chance to even think about what was coming next in that statement. The entire room began to vibrate, a rumble growing louder throughout the bar. I knew that sound. Knew the base of it, the melody. Knew exactly what to expect outside.

  Motorcycles. Lots and lots of motorcycles had just pulled into the parking lot. And there were just the two of us in the bar.

  “Is that—” Finn looked toward the door, a frown marring his face. Tugging down those kiss-swollen lips. These guys had the worst timing in the world. “Are those motorcycles?”

  “Yup.”

  He set me down and straightened the waistband of his jeans. “You should stay in here.”

  As if. “I’m not hiding from them.”

  The look on his face, the grit there, made him seem ten times as tough as usual. “They might be here for you.”

  I’d already assumed that. “We need to call Deacon.” I pulled away from Finn, running for the front of the bar. Better to meet them outside than have them come in. “And Parris. Get Parris on the phone.”

  Finn followed right behind me, phone in his hand and thumbs flying over the screen. Likely texting Deacon and Parris. Maybe even one of the Kennard brothers. Good. We needed all the help we could get.

  I slid into the workspace and crawled underneath the counter, grabbing the handgun Deacon kept there for emergencies. I didn’t like guns, but I certainly knew how to use them. Parris had made sure of that. Well…mostly.

  “Is this thing loaded?” I asked, wishing I’d taken the time to learn how to tell instead of just how to shoot.

  Finn grabbed my hands and took the gun from me, looking meaner than I’d ever seen him. “I’ve got that. You should go lock yourself in the office.”

  Oh, hell no. “You don’t get to be some sort of martyr.”

  “And you don’t need to throw yourself in front of me.” He clicked off the safety and held the gun as if he knew what he was doing. “Deacon and Parris are on their way. You go hide while I stall these guys.”

  “I don’t like this plan.”

  “You got a better one?”

  “Yeah.” I pressed myself against him, rising onto the balls of my feet to plant my lips against his. To kiss him strong and hard, sliding my tongue inside when he opened for me. Hanging on to his arms as I moaned and melted into his hold. At least until he brought the hand holding the gun to my hip. I followed the length of that arm down, down, down until my fingers brushed the bones of his wrist. And then I broke the kiss. “I’m sorry.”

  “For what,” he whispered, his voice rough and his breaths coming fast. Distracted. How I wanted him.

  “For this.” I yanked the gun from his hand and jumped away, heading for the front door. “Stay inside. I’ll deal with these guys.”

  But, of course, he wouldn’t do that. He was a Kennard, after all, and they all seemed to have some sort of protector complex. That whole knight in shining armor thing. Hot, for sure, but stupid as well. Club guys would rip right through that armor then use it as serving plates to cook his entrails over a fire. You couldn’t play fair with them—they didn’t understand the concept.

  “Damn it, Jinx.” Finn grabbed my hand just before I opened the door,
stopping me. “We go together, okay? I’ve got your back, you’ve got mine.”

  “No, Finn—”

  “I mean it—you’re not going out there alone.”

  There was no stopping him. I could see it in his eyes. His mind was made up. I had a feeling my world—the one I’d been sort of building in Justice—was about to come crashing down, something I didn’t need him bearing witness to. But I didn’t see another choice.

  “Fine. But don’t protect me.”

  Finn huffed. “Fat chance there.”

  “I mean it.”

  “Are you crazy?”

  “No, I’m realistic.” I took a deep breath before facing the door. Readying myself for what I knew I was about to walk into. “And really fucking unlucky.”

  Before I could yank the door open, Finn had me in his arms. He kissed me brutally, the sort of kiss that rocked your soul and left you unable to figure out up from down. The sort that shattered your world and rebuilt it in a way that could only include the other person. The sort of kiss that led to long nights of sweat and sex and pleasure.

  The sort of kiss that nearly knocked me to my knees.

  “Jinx Reid,” Finn said as soon as he pulled away. As soon as he took those wicked lips of his back. “Meeting you was the luckiest thing that ever happened to me. Now, let’s go out there and see if we can hold off this swarm of bikers, yeah?”

  “Yeah.” I licked my lips and took a deep breath, trying hard to focus on the parking lot where that rumbling had never stopped. Where those bikers were waiting us out. Where my past and present were likely about to slam together and cause irreparable damage. Where I could lose Finn if he didn’t play by the rules. “Just don’t get yourself killed.”

  “I’ll do my best.”

  His best was going to have to be good enough.

  Chapter Eleven

  FINN

  The rumble of our uninvited guests cut off as soon as we opened the door and stepped outside. All of the engines—silenced in an instant. The night air hung cold and sharp, making our breath something physical in the air, the tension something as tangible as the snow starting to fall around us. But that wasn’t the worst part of the scene before me. No, not at all. Snow, I could deal with. What nearly froze me more than the night air was the number of machines facing us.