Tex (Hell's Ankhor #5) - Aiden Bates Page 0,31

few paces a way with his arms at his side like a predator ready to strike at a moment’s notice.

This situation was clearly about to boil over, and I needed to get over there with backup before it did. “Yo,” I called over my shoulder to the open garage, “Mav! Siren! Get out here!”

Then the guy shoved Jonah.

Before I could even get my hand on the doorknob, Jazz was on the guy. Despite the guy’s height and weight advantage, Jazz had him on the floor in the space of a blink, pinning him with a knee to the back, and both of the guy’s wrists in one of his hands. Like it was nothing.

I’d seen him fight plenty of times back in the day—hell, I’d been the cause of a lot of them—but those brawls weren’t like this. This was elegant, efficient, competent.

Jazz leaned down and snarled something at the guy, his lips twisting to bare his teeth with controlled, protective fury.

My stomach did a weird flip, and I felt hot all over suddenly, like I was back at the garage sweating in the humidity. If this wasn’t proof he’d changed, nothing was—I just didn’t know why it made me feel so weird to see it.

Maverick and Siren ran across the parking lot, and then stopped at my back.

“Huh,” Maverick said. “Looks like your boy can handle his responsibilities just fine.”

“You teach him that move?” Siren asked.

“Nope,” I said. “Never seen it.”

“Huh,” Siren said, impressed.

I shouldered open the door, but Jazz didn’t notice, too focused on the Liberty Crew member.

“Heath,” Jazz said as he glanced at the front desk. “Call Gunnar.”

“Not necessary,” I said.

Jazz snapped his head around to look at me after I spoke, and I nodded—he’d done well. Handled it easily, like it was nothing. And he'd been planning on calling the sergeant to figure out what to do with the guy. Exactly what he should have done.

Maybe Siren was right. Maybe I’d been underestimating him a little bit.

Jazz’s gaze went from angry to—something else. Something I couldn’t quite read was behind the liquid amber of his eyes as his gaze skittered across me, from my face and down my chest, like he couldn’t quite remember who I was.

No, that wasn’t it…

I felt itchy, like his gaze was a physical touch on me.

Jonah cleared his throat. Jazz raised his eyebrows at Jonah, and then turned his attention to me. “Shouldn’t we deal with this?”

With four of us, it was easy to throw the guy onto his ass out the front door. We wrestled him as he cursed and spat onto the sidewalk out front. I stood in front of the door, ensuring he couldn’t get back in; Maverick looped his arm around Jonah’s shoulders protectively where they stood a few feet away.

“I’m still happy to look at the paint job,” Jonah said. “But call ahead before you come back, please.”

“I’ll be in touch with the Liberty Crew president,” I said.

The guy scowled, and looked like he was about to talk some more shit—until I took a step forward. He changed his mind, spit at our feet, and then stalked back to his bike and rode off, engine roaring. Maverick and Jonah immediately went back inside and beelined for Grace, who was completely disinterested in the drama, and much more interested in attempting to get her socks off.

Behind the front desk, Heath scooted his chair back a little and tipped forward so his head was between his knees. He took a few deep breaths, and then sat back up, his face a little pale.

“You all right, kid?” I asked.

“Yeah,” Heath said. He gave himself a little shake, and then scooted the chair back up to the desk and turned his attention to the computer, though I doubted there was much for him to do.

I glanced at Jazz. He caught my eye, and then shook his head the barest amount with a little downward turn to the corner of his lips. I knew what that meant—Heath definitely was not all right. But he also clearly didn’t want to talk about it. I didn’t know much about Heath’s past—he was private, could be a little standoffish until he felt really comfortable with you, and since he was in school as well, he wasn’t around as much as my other brothers. But he was a good kid, and fit in well with the club.

Admittedly, I was a little protective of him as well, ever since he was caught in a scuffle with