“I told you, I didn’t sell Avery out.” Warren’s voice cracked. “You’ve got to believe me.”
Jackson looked at him, his expression unreadable. “I’m not sure I do.”
He glanced outside again, watching as Mick climbed out of the truck. The young man’s movements were cautious, deliberate. He wasn’t holding a weapon, but Jackson didn’t let his guard drop.
“We’ll have to table that for now,” he said, stepping back from the window. “Because if Mick Barker’s here, this situation just got a whole lot more complicated.”
Jackson stood at the window, watching Mick move around the truck. He was alone as far as Jackson could tell, but thatdidn’t mean much. The Brotherhood could be close, watching from the trees, waiting for the right moment to strike.
He weighed his options fast. He didn’t want Avery anywhere near Mick, not until he knew what the kid wanted. But leaving her alone inside with Warren wasn’t a good idea either. The man was nervous, unpredictable, and still very much a question mark.
Jackson turned. “You’re coming outside with me.”
Warren’s eyes widened. “What? No. I’m not going out there.”
“You are,” Jackson said flatly. “If he’s here for you, I want him to see you standing next to me.”
Warren shook his head hard. “You can’t make me—”
Jackson grabbed his arm, not rough but firm enough to get the point across. “Move.”
Warren stumbled but followed as Jackson opened the door. The sound of rain hit them immediately, cold and steady. It wasn’t the light drizzle from earlier. Sheets of water rolled off the roof, soaking the porch in seconds.
Mick stood at the edge of the drive, his jacket dark with rain, his hair plastered to his forehead. He looked exhausted, haunted even, but Jackson didn’t let that fool him.
He stepped forward, his voice carrying through the downpour. “That’s close enough, Mick.”
Mick froze.
Jackson raised his weapon, the barrel steady. “Don’t take another step.”
Rain slid down his face, dripping from his chin, but he didn’t blink. His focus stayed locked on the younger man, reading every twitch, every breath.
If Mick Barker had come here to play the Brotherhood’s next move, he wasn’t getting within ten feet of that house.
Mick lifted his hands, palms out, rain dripping from his fingers. “I’m not here to hurt Avery,” he said. His voice shook, but Jackson couldn’t tell if it was fear or nerves.
“Then why are you here?” Jackson called back. “Did you follow us?”
Mick shook his head. “No. I had Warren’s house staked out. I’ve been here since early morning.”
Jackson’s stomach tightened. “Staked out?”
Mick nodded and motioned toward the woods across the road. “Out there. I wanted to see who came around. I figured the Brotherhood would show sooner or later.”
Jackson shifted slightly, scanning the tree line. The rain blurred everything, turning the woods into a wall of gray and shadow. He couldn’t see anyone, but that didn’t mean they weren’t there. It was thick cover, the kind of place a man could hide for hours without being seen.
He felt a sharp flash of anger at himself. He should have seen this coming. Should have assumed someone would be watching Warren’s place. Mick or the Brotherhood, it didn’t matter. He’d brought Avery straight into the crosshairs.
Jackson kept his gun steady, eyes fixed on Mick. “If you’ve been watching this place, then you know how bad this looks.”
“I know,” Mick said, his voice raw. “But I had to talk to you. I had to warn you.”
Jackson’s finger brushed the trigger, just enough to remind himself he was still in control. The rain beat harder, loud enough to drown out the sound of his heartbeat, but not the unease crawling through his gut.
Mick’s hands were still raised, his breathing fast and uneven. “I’m in hiding,” he said, his voice cracking. “From Darian and my mom. They’re both after me now.”
Jackson kept his aim steady. “You really believe your mother would have you killed?” His tone held every ounce of skepticism he felt.
