Jaxon - Olivia T. Turner Page 0,11
needs me to make this right. But I just start my bike and roll out.
He follows me all the way to Bakersfield.
“We should scout the place first,” Beckham says. “Know what we’re walking into.”
I know what I’m walking into. Revenge.
He grabs my arm, forcing me to look at him.
“I mean it, Jaxon. Things have changed since Beannie died. We’re responsible for Nixie. I don’t want to let her down by getting killed.”
“I don’t want that either,” I say as I swallow down my rage. I finally start to get my wrecked nerves under control as the light turns green. “Okay. Let’s just take a look. We’re already here.”
We ride over to The Outlaws’ clubhouse and hang back a safe distance away.
There are too many of them. And they’re all on high alert.
I could do this with my brother, but it would have to be at night when they’re not expecting an attack.
And I want to make sure this Gunner fucker is there before I charge in. He’s the only one I have a hard on for. He’s the only one I want dead.
“Okay?” Beckham asks after we’ve gotten a long look.
I grit my teeth and force out a breath. “Okay. Let’s go back.”
The time will come to make that piece of shit pay for touching my girl, but unfortunately, it’s not today.
We ride by with our engines roaring, and I can’t help myself.
I pull out my gun and fire five shots into their clubhouse sign. The Outlaws is now scattered with bullet holes.
“What the hell was that?” Beckham asks when we turn the corner.
“A warning,” I say as I slide my gun back into my jeans. “That I’m coming for them.”
“We’re coming for them,” Beckham corrects.
“Fine. But the President is mine.”
Chapter Five
Stella
“How come you don’t have any friends?” I ask Nixie as I hand her the popcorn. We’re at my apartment hanging out after dinner while we wait for her uncles to pick her up.
“I’m friends with my teacher,” she says as she tosses a popped kernel into her mouth. “We have the most interesting discussions about philosophy and the arts during recess.”
“You don’t play with the other kids?”
She looks at me like I just suggested she should go play with a pack of wild wolves. “They’re neanderthals. A boy in my class had to go to the hospital because he cut his tongue while licking the slide. The slide! How can I play with those barbarians?”
I have to fight back my smile as I watch her change the channel from the cartoon I put on to CSPAN.
“You’re an old soul, you know that?”
She sighs. “So, I’ve been told.”
We chat about school and her hobbies a bit more (Nixie likes reading Greek mythology, watching classic cinema, and painting toenails), and then I start to worm the conversation over to Jaxon as we paint each other’s toes a bright purple.
“You don’t have to do this,” she says abruptly.
“What?” I ask with a nervous laugh.
“Be coy with me. Beat around the bush. Pretend that you’re not trying to get information about my uncle.”
I laugh as if she’s got me all wrong, but my blushing cheeks betray me. “I wasn’t…”
“I’m ten years old,” she says in a flat tone that she probably got from her uncle Beckham. “I’m not an idiot. I know you like him.”
This time I can’t answer. I can’t lie. This little Yoda will see straight through me into my soul.
“He likes you too,” she says with a smile.
“No, he doesn’t.” I can’t even fathom that this gorgeous man could be into me. He could have anyone he wants and I’m just… well, I’m just a runaway waitress working in a busted up biker bar in a small crappy town. I’m nobody worth liking.
She raises her eyebrow at me and it makes my heart pound. “I know my Uncle J. He’s got it bad for you. He didn’t take his eyes off you all day.”
“I think that had to do with my tight jean shorts,” I say with a laugh. “Doesn’t mean he was into me.”
“Yes, it does. Do you know how many girls have tried to get with Jaxon and gotten nowhere instead?”
“We shouldn’t be talking about your uncle this way,” I say. She is only ten years old. But five seconds later, I can’t take it anymore. “How many girls?”
“A lot! My teacher tried to hook up with him and she is gorgeous.”
This time it’s my turn to raise an eyebrow. “How do you know they didn’t?”
She lets