“We’re not in a jam. Your friend here is about to die.”
Jeff’s voice comes out cocky and so sure, “That’s big words for a man who has a gun on him.”
“Not the first time. You just drove into the Saint’s home turf. Do you really think you’re going to get out of this alive? Put the gun down, and I might let you live,” Keys warns.
“All I want is Aubree. She goes with me and it’s done,” Jeff attempts to negotiate.
“I would, but that would make my brother upset, so that’s off the table,” Keys refuses his demand sounding like the asshole he is.
“You really are an asshole,” I mumble, trying to figure out what to do here.
“Just keep him talking till the other men come through. And remind me to rip your man a new one about not having more men.”
“It’s on his list!” I grumble, taking up for Jax.
“It might have come before taking down the fences.”
“Those might have been up if a dead body hadn’t been thrown…Wait…Jeff? Where is Roxy?”
“I had to take care of her,” he grins at me. His eyes dark and hollow.
“Take care of her?” I ask, a sick feeling coming over me. What did you do?”
“She was a bad influence on you Breezy. She’s one of the reasons you lied to me and thought it was okay to take up with that man.”
Was. The body, earlier. Oh God. I nearly crumble to the ground, but Keys speaks to me.
“Keep him talking,” he growls.
“He killed Roxy,” I say the words out loud, but not really to Keys. I’m in shock.
“I had to. Come with me and I’ll let your grandfather live,” I hear Jeff say and anger floods me.
“You killed Roxy!” I scream, the truth of it hitting me. I want to go charging at him, and I try I get right to him, before Keys catches me.
“Son of a bitch, woman!” Keys grunts, yanking me hard. It’s too late though…Jeff’s gun goes off shooting Keys. He goes down, falling to the ground. I scream and that’s when I feel the heated barrel of Jeff’s gun push against the side of my head. I freeze saying a silent prayer that this isn’t how it ends.
Chapter Sixty-One
Jax
“Fuck! We’re too late!” Pops growls, as we pull up a few feet from where that punk is holding a gun to Bree’s head. My heart stops in my chest. I can’t let something happen to her. I can’t. This is my fault. I left my compound with a skeleton crew of mostly untrained men to guard not only it, but the only thing important in my life. Motherfucker! I just pushed forward without thinking like a club president. This is all on me.
“I’ll distract him. When you get a clear shot, take it. Do you hear me? But you make sure Bree is safe,” I order, my voice thick with emotion. Bree’s my world.
“I’ve got it, but how the fuck do you plan on distracting him?” Pops questions.
“By giving him what he wants, old man. You just make sure Bree stays safe,” I tell him getting out of the truck and walking towards the boy who is threatening my woman.
“Looks like you got yourself in a mess, baby doll,” I call out, my voice gruff, but not betraying the stress I’m feeling. I don’t want her to sense my worry. She needs to know I got this. I got her back, always.
“Jax,” Bree gasps, she doesn’t turn, but I can see a slight shake in her left leg and it kills me. She has to be scared to death. The fucker turns to look at me, pulling Bree with him. They’re standing a little to the side so that he has both me and Keys in sight. His eyes are full of malice.
I look over at Keys. He’s down on his stomach. It looks like he’s dead, but I notice his hand is out against the concrete. He’s pointing three fingers and tapping one of them. Skull had us all trained in old school Morse code. It’s something that comes in handy on the battlefield, and most of us guys have served at one time or another. It’s also something that comes in handy in the life we lead. Especially, in cases like now. I don’t have time to watch him closely, but I get the gist of it. He’s just grazed and biding his time. That means he and Pops can take on this asshole. I just need to get Bree clear. Like that’s going to be fucking easy.
This fucking guy has his hand on my woman and his gun at her temple. He’s a shit stain on the bottom of my boot, but that gun he holds is deadly. “Bree will be coming with me. Where she should have always been,” he brags.
I keep one eye on him as I look to my woman. She isn’t crying, but I can see that she wants to. Her bottom lip trembles, and I never want to see the pained expression painted on her face again. “She doesn’t look like she wants to come with you,” I tell him like we’re discussing the weather.