Jonquils for Jax (Blueberry Lane 3 - The Rousseaus #1) - Katy Regnery Page 0,51
in cheers, then they all finished off whatever was left of their beers, slamming their pint glasses down on the bar as Phil ordered another round.
From behind them, Jax heard a slurred voice ask, “Did I hear someone talking about gumbo night?”
While the other four men drinking with them were still laughing and reminiscing among themselves, Jax felt Gard tense beside her, his whole body—every muscle she could feel—flexed, tightening, ready to pounce.
“Brad,” said Gard softly—the sound a curse, a swear—as the man rounded the group and came into view. He was overweight, his belly hanging over the lip of his navy-blue pants, and he had some beer suds clinging to his mustache. He looked harmless, laughable even. But Jax glanced up at Gard, watching his face harden, his lips tightening into a thin slash.
“Gardener Thibodeaux,” said the man in an exaggerated Southern drawl, giving Gard a shit-eating grin. “What y’all doin’ back here at Club7, honey child?”
Jax shifted her glance to Frankie D., who gave her what appeared to be a sympathetic grimace before asking the bartender for a cup of strong black coffee.
She looked back at Brad, who flicked his glance to Jax, his eyebrows riding up with appreciation as he licked his slick lips, leaning toward her. A little of his beer sloshed onto her shoes. “Aren’t you going to introduce me?”
Gard’s voice was lethal. “No.”
“Still holding a grudge, huh?” asked the older man, smirking at Gard.
Saul put a hand on Gard’s shoulder. “Remember, son,” he said in a low voice, “fighting gets you banned.”
Gard’s head jerked slightly, an action of acknowledgment for Saul as he stared back at Brad with utter hatred.
“Hey, Brad,” said Johnny, putting his arm around Brad’s shoulders, “let’s get you some food, huh? Frankie D.’s got some coffee coming and we can just—”
“Fuck off, junior.” Brad shrugged Johnny away and turned back to Jax, his smarmy, drunken smile fixed in place. “I want to meet Gard’s girlfriend. What’s your name, honey?”
Gard pulled her closer, his fingers clamping harder on her upper arm, and she swore she could feel the furious pounding of his heart. She could feel how much energy it was taking for him to restrain himself.
“Jacqueline,” she said, lifting her chin and staring back at Brad. She’d met more lecherous types in Hollywood than she could count. Big, bad Brad had nothing on them.
“Jacqueline,” he said, his voice holding a hint of mockery. “Sounds…expensive.”
“Nique ta mere,” growled Gard under his breath, and it was so out of character, Jax swallowed a gasp. Even her brothers rarely used that particular, extremely vulgar, expression.
“Come on, Brad,” cajoled Phil. “Time to eat something, buddy.”
Meanwhile, Gard just stared at Brad, his eyes black with fury. Who was this? Who was—Oh my God. Suddenly it all clicked in Jax’s head like an epiphany. I found her with my partner. My first partner, Brad…In my apartment…In our bed. Merde. This was Gard’s first partner. The asshole who’d betrayed his trust and cheated with Gard’s girlfriend.
Phil had put his arm around Brad’s shoulders, and they started steering him away when Jax exclaimed in a cheerful, playful voice, “Wait! Wait a second! You’re…Brad?”
“What are you doin’?” muttered Gard.
She winked at him, then looked at Brad, who’d turned around at the sound of his name. “Uh, yeah…?”
“Oh my God, this is such a coincidence! I’m friends with—” She wracked her brain to remember the name of Gard’s slut ex-girlfriend. “—Tiffany!”
“Huh,” he said, a smug smirk moving back into place. “How d’ya know her?”
Ummm… “College. St. Joe’s. Went there with this one too,” she said, jabbing a thumb into Gard’s stomach. “In fact, that’s how we got together. I called his place looking for my old friend, Tiff, and he said she’d just moved out. We started gabbing, went out to dinner. The rest is history. Right, baby?” she asked, looking up at Gardener adoringly.
He gave her a dark look but inclined his head just slightly to play along. She winked at him again, then turned back to Brad.
“I did eventually track down Tiff, though. You know, to talk about old times…and she told me all about you! Brad! Brad, the police officer with a wife and two kids who used to be Gard’s partner, right?”
“That’s me,” he said, leaning closer. His breath smelled of stale beer and her stomach rolled. “Ain’t married anymore. If ’ole Tiff told you anything you’d like to try…”
Gard took a step forward. Talk quick, Jax, or he’s going to throw a punch!