Tex (Hell's Ankhor #5) - Aiden Bates Page 0,64

he’d give me another chance. He’d taken his second chance by the horns and had become a better man. I’d do the same, if he’d let me.

I let myself think about it, just a little. What I’d do differently, if I could redo that morning over. The morning where he’d kissed me, half-awake, like he’d done it a thousand times before. A little spike of anxiety shot through me at the thought. I thought I wanted him, but at the same time—what if this just made things more complicated?

He knew what he wanted. I, apparently, didn’t know a goddamned thing.

Well, I did know one thing: I had to find him. I had to apologize. Explain myself, or try to. Anything to make up for that awful, wounded expression I’d made cross his face.

I swung my leg over my bike. As I revved the engine, another engine roared down the two-lane highway and a bike turned hard into the clubhouse’s gravel lot. Rebel pulled his helmet off before his bike had even completely stopped. “Yo, Tex!”

It always threw me a little bit to see Rebel in his police gear, the blue shirt and navy pants contrasted with the worn leather of his club jacket. “Glad I caught you. Listen—did you get my message?”

“What?” I asked. “What message?”

“No one’s checking their damn phones,” Rebel groused. “Crave slipped his FBI tail. My buddy just let me know they’ve lost him.”

All my worries about Jazz and my feelings dispersed like steam—only to be replaced with cold terror. “Slipped his tail? Did he figure out he was being tailed?”

“Looks like it,” Rebel said.

“He’s not gonna be happy.” If he figured out he was being tailed, he might suspect Jazz was the cause. And now he was out there, on the loose, without any feds keeping an eye on him. “He’s going to blame Jazz.”

Rebel nodded. “That’s what I’m afraid of.”

Blade and Gunnar stepped onto the porch, with Coop and Siren close behind. “Rebel. Something wrong?”

“Why does no one check their phone?” Rebel muttered, and then spoke up. “Crave’s slipped his tail. We need to find Jazz before Crave does.”

The terror subsided as I stepped into my old enforcer role like a suit of armor. I’d find him. And if Crave tried to get in my way, there’d be hell to pay.

17

Jazz

I leaned heavily against the passenger side of the truck, one heel of my boot against the front tire. Heath was due to get out of class in a few minutes, but the campus was already bustling with activity. It wasn’t a big school, but the business program was renowned, and Heath was acing his classes.

Too bad the campus was non-smoking. I wanted a cigarette, just for something to distract me.

The drive over had been painful. It was just long enough to allow some contemplative highway time, and I, being an idiot, had decided to take Tex’s truck as my cage of choice. I’d done it mostly to be petty, but I hadn’t thought it through. I hadn’t thought about how the beat-up old interior would smell like him, like leather and aftershave and motor oil. I’d ridden in this truck countless times, worked on it, borrowed it, stolen it, even had a few minor fender benders in it.

Driving it had made me miss him even worse. We’d never be those kids again. We couldn’t recapture that easy, bone-deep connection—not now. I’d gone and fucked it up first by kissing him, and then he had to admit he still thought of me as a spineless kid.

We were both different people now. I had to accept that. Even if I lost the friendship we still had—at least I knew we’d never be together, full stop. In a way, it was a weight off my shoulders. There were no more what-ifs, no more trying to read into the lingering looks he gave me, no more daydreams about the kind of life we’d have together if, if, if.

It was better to know, even if it hurt. And we’d still have the club, still be in each other’s lives. I wouldn’t let this drive me away from Hell’s Ankhor.

“Hey, Jazz!” Heath jogged over, his backpack swung carelessly over one shoulder. His platinum hair was pushed back under a bright red beanie, and he wasn’t wearing his leather. It made him look even younger. He was a sweet, smart kid, and funny once he finally opened up.

Something in my expression made his face fall as he approached. “What’s wrong? Did