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Feb coasted a hand over her own head, grateful Jax had taken them down on their hips, an arm around her head to cushion their fall. “I’d like to go by tomorrow. Check on them.”
“I’ll go with you,” Jax said, then to Mel, “Do we know who the shooter was?”
She shook her head. “Camino redundancy, likely.”
“We found an empty sniper’s nest in the under-construction building across the square,” Brax added. “Been there a while. Probably on Tuesday too.”
“The both of you,” Mel said, splitting a glance between her and Jax, “probably saved Ariel’s life twice. Fletcher’s too.” Then to Feb, hand outstretched, commended her. “You handled all of this remarkably well, Ms. Winters.”
She rolled her eyes, even as she shook the boss lady’s hand. “I don’t know if I’d go that far.”
“I would,” Mel said with a smile. “There’s a spot for you at Redemption if you ever want it.”
Feb couldn’t catch the giggle that escaped. Or the truth. “No thank you. And no offense. You all are amazing, but I am not nearly as cool, and I have a three-star kitchen to run.” She blew a flyaway off her forehead. “That’s enough stress.”
“None taken,” Mel said. “And fair enough. I, for one, cannot wait to bring Danny here. He’s gonna love it.”
“There’ll be a table waiting for you.” Feb was curious as hell to meet the person who’d swept the powerhouse off her feet and somehow kept up with her.
When Brax held out his hand for a shake too, Feb walked into his arms instead, hugging him around the waist. He hugged her back, every bit the father figure she’d first taken him for. Had been through all this. “We’ll finish boarding up that window tonight,” he said as he drew back. “We’ll be back tomorrow to take down the surveillance and reprogram the locks, then on Sunday with the new glass.”
“Sounds good. Thank you for everything.”
“Jax,” he said, turning to them next. “Good job on point.”
“HQ tomorrow?”
“Monday,” Mel said. “Take the weekend off.”
“It’s no?—”
“Monday,” Brax seconded, and that was that, apparently, the two bosses headed back out the front door, the both of them so different but a perfect complement to each other.
“So, that’s Mom and Dad...” Feb said, unable to hold in any longer the observation she’d kept bottled up for days.
“Frighteningly accurate,” Jax said, chuckling as they scooted behind the bar. “Whiskey?”
Feb climbed onto a stool. “Fuck yes.”
Jax worked as effortlessly behind the bar as they had since they’d first stepped behind it. Sure, it wasn’t rocket science, pouring whiskey into a glass, but the flick of their wrists as they turned up two glasses, then the bottle, the drop of water they put into each whiskey to open the rye up was its own sort of science. Their movements behind the bar were practiced, like they were as suited to it as they were to computers and whatever else they did for Redemption.
But selfishly, Feb liked them behind her bar a lot better.
“I can coordinate the repairs here this weekend,” they said as they slid a tumbler across the bar to her. “Then I’ll be out of your hair.”
Feb paused, glass halfway to her lips. “Why would you do that? I negotiated to keep you on until I can fill the spot.”
Jax’s green eyes widened. “You did?”
“Of course I did.” She raised her glass and waited for Jax to clink their rim against it. “And I thought I negotiated a date with you...”
“But the stress?—”
She grinned behind the rim of her glass. “Pretty sure you’ll help relieve some of that.”
Reaching a hand across the bar, Jax wrapped it gently around her wrist and tugged down the glass. “Feb, are you sure? You’ve gotten an up-close view of my life, my family?—”
“I’ve gotten an up-close view of how devoted you are to one another and to doing right by folks you barely know.” Feb covered Jax’s hand with her free one and squeezed. “I’m not asking for forever yet. A date tomorrow night, and if that goes well, maybe more, but let’s just worry about tomorrow night for now.”
