Jack scoffs. “God, I hope not.”
I run my eyes over the shadowed lines of Jack’s hard expression and frown. This isn’t the same guy I left Arizona with. This is someone else entirely. Someone darker. Someone… dangerous.
I wait for fear to grip me, but none comes. At least none derived of Jack’s transformation. I still feel safe with him. Secure. I might not fully know the Jack standing beside me—the one with small scars on his knuckles and burdened eyes when he smokes—but that doesn’t seem to change the fact that I absolutely trust him. Which is good, since it looks like having an ally in this place is a must.
“You say that, but you know it wasn’t the same after you left,” Jonesy says. “We missed your sorry ass. I missed you.”
Beneath the teasing tone in Jonesy’s voice is a thread of sincerity, and for a brief moment, Jack’s eyes crinkle with a sad smile.
“I had to get out, Jonesy,” he says. “It was the only way.”
“I know.” He pulls at his ear. “Doesn’t mean I have to like it, though.”
“No.” Jack shifts. “I guess not.”
Jonesy slides his eyes to me. “And who’s this pretty young thing?” He looks me over in a way that isn’t disgusting but isn’t flattering either.
Straightening my shoulders, I wait until his eyes finally make their way back up to my face before smiling sharply. “Did you get a good enough look, or should I strip off my clothes and turn around in circles for you?”
Jack cuts his eyes to me.
Jonesy barks out a loud laugh from the depths of his gut. It’s a raking sound, like tumbling stones in a wheel of scrap metal, and heads that weren’t already staring turn in our direction.
“Holy hell on ice!” Jonesy chokes out as his laughter wanes. “I like this one, Jack. Pretty and mean. I’ll bet she keeps you running.” He looks me over again, but this time in a more… admiring way.
“You have no idea,” Jack mutters.
Jonesy nods at me. “This is your girl, I take it?”
“Yeah,” Jack says with a single nod. I whip my gaze to him, but he blatantly ignores me and goes on. “Jonesy this is Jenna. Jenna, meet Jonesy.”
“Hey, darling.” He smiles at me.
“Hey,” I say, not sure what to make of this guy. Does he like Jack? Does he hate him?
Jack answers my unasked questions by explaining, “Jonesy is like the grandfather I never wanted.”
Jonesy grins at him. “Bullshit. You like me.”
“I like you compared to everyone else in this hellhole,” he corrects. “But I wouldn’t trust you as far as I could throw you.”
He winks at me. “And with good reason.”
“Case in point,” Jack says, then shakes his head at Jonesy. “Sorry about Samson, by the way. I’ll pay his tab and get him out of here. Is it cool if we head to the back?”
Jonesy nods. “Go on back. But don’t worry about his tab. He’s all paid up.”
Jack shoves off the bar with a nod of thanks and walks toward the dark hallway. I follow behind him trying to decide on how best to let him know I’m not thrilled with his insta-reply back there about me being his girl.
I finally settle for, “What the fuck was that?” as I come up beside him in the hallway.
He barely glances at me. “I’ll explain later.”
“I’m sorry, you’ll explain?”
“Yes. I’ll explain,” he bites out then stops in the middle of the corridor. “Now hurry so we can get out of here.”
He points across the hall to a restroom door and I suddenly remember that I have to pee. With one last scowl angled at him, I turn and head for the bathroom.
When I’m finished washing my hands, I exit the bathroom to find Jack standing just outside the door, facing outward with his arms crossed and blocking the entrance, like he’s some kind of bathroom sentry.
I tilt my head. “You’re on Potty Patrol now? Wow.”
He cocks his head. “Would you rather I ditch you?”
“Well… no.”
“Exactly.” He says nothing else as we head to the back of the hallway. Following behind him through the darkness, I watch one of his scarred hands push open the red door while the other reaches back for me, and can’t help but feel like we’re walking into something far more ominous than the storage room of a local bar. Something I should probably fear.
But my eyes trail down the sure lines of the familiar tattoo on the arm reaching back for me—where a large hawk proudly mangles a snake in its deadly talons—and any fear I might have dredged up instantly takes a backseat to the trust I have in Jack. He would never let anything happen to me. To us. I know this in an instinctive and undeniable way. Like it’s a built-in truth.