The team covers our exit. Sirens wail in the distance. But all I can focus on is Jax. The way he put himself between me and the bullets. The way his touch brands me with safety and something much hotter. My heart races for an entirely different reason now.
8
Jax
I pull the black SUV up to the safe house on the outskirts of Timber Creek, the engine still rumbling low as I kill the lights. Ava sits beside me, her hands twisted together in her lap like she’s trying to hold herself together by sheer willpower. She looks so damn small in that oversized cardigan, all wide eyes and nervous energy, but there’s a spark in her that refuses to die even with a cartel breathing down her neck. It makes me want to wrap her up and never let the world touch her again.
“Inside,” I tell her, my voice coming out rougher than I intend. “We’re not staying long. Pack what you need. Fast.”
She blinks up at me as I open her door and help her down, my hand settling on her lower back a second longer than necessary. The contact sends heat straight through my palm. “Pack? But this is the safe house, right? Are we… leaving already?”
“They’re looking for you, Ava. Carlos’s men don’t quit easily, and they’ve already hit your apartment. We move now or we risk them finding this place too.” I guide her up the steps, my body angled to shield her from anything that might come out of theshadows. My hand stays near my holster the whole time. “Pack light. Essentials only. We’re safe house hopping until we can neutralize the threat for good.”
Her breath hitches. I see it in the tension that creeps into her shoulders and the way her fingers twist the hem of her cardigan. The sight guts me. I hate seeing fear shadow her eyes. I want to take it from her, to smooth away every worry line and replace it with something softer. Something warmer. Something that only exists when she's looking at me.
Inside the modest cabin, she moves quickly, grabbing clothes and a few books from the small shelf like she can’t quite leave her librarian heart behind. I stand by the door, watching her every move, my jaw clenched tight. She’s efficient despite the tremble in her hands, folding things neatly even when the world is falling apart around her. Cute as hell. And mine to protect.
“Where are we going?” she asks softly as she zips up a small bag, glancing at me with those big eyes full of questions and that underlying worry I can read like an open book.
I take the bag from her, my fingers brushing hers and sending another jolt through me. “Idaho first. Then we keep moving. Safe house to safe house. It’s the best way to stay ahead of them until my team and I can handle the men after you. No one touches what’s under my watch. Not on my life.”
She nods, but I see the way her lip worries between her teeth. The worry is still there, clinging to her like a shadow. It makes every obsessive instinct in me roar louder. I want to pull her close right here, tell her she’s safe in ways that go far beyond this assignment, but I hold back. Barely.
We load up and hit the road as the sun roams higher in the sky. We drive for hours, day turning to night. I drive straight through, the miles blurring under the headlights while the mountains give way to darker stretches of highway. Ava dozes fitfully in the passenger seat, her head eventually tipping toward the window. Every soft sound she makes keeps me wired, my grip tight on the wheel. I steal glances at her when I can, the way she curls into herself making my chest feel too damn full. She’s not just a witness. Not anymore. She’s becoming something I don’t plan on letting go.
By the time we pull up to the remote Idaho safe house, the first gray hints of dawn are creeping in. The small cabin is tucked deep in the woods, snow dusting the pines around it. I carry her bag inside and do a quick sweep, securing every lock and window. It’s basic. One main room. A kitchenette. And one bed dominating the corner under a heavy quilt.
Ava steps in behind me, rubbing her arms against the chill before the heater kicks on. Her eyes land on the bed and she bites her lip again. “Only one bed,” she whispers, that cute, breathy tone hitting me square in the gut. “Again.”
I grunt, setting her bag down. “I’ll take the floor. Get some rest, Ava.”
She turns to me, cheeks flushing soft pink even in the low light. “Jax. Please. Stay in the bed with me? I’m… I’m afraid to sleep alone right now. After everything. I just… I feel safer with you here.”
Her words hit like a claim I didn’t know I was waiting for. Those big eyes plead with me that wrecks my control. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to say no to her. Not about this. Not about anything.
I toe off my boots, shrug out of my jacket, and nod once. “All right. Get in.”
She slips under the covers, still in her cardigan like a security blanket, and I follow, keeping a careful space between us even as my body screams to close it. The mattress dips under my weight. She shifts closer almost immediately, her small hand brushing my arm as if checking I’m real. It tests every ounce of restraint I have.
I lie on my back, staring at the ceiling, my arm aching to pull her against my chest. She’s terrified and trusting me completely. And all I can think about is how perfectly she’d fit tucked under my arm, how I’d keep her safe through the night and every night after. The cartel wants her dead. I want her mine.
This assignment is going to break me. But as her breathing deepens and she unconsciously curls toward my warmth, I know I’d burn the whole world down before I let her go.
9
Ava
I wake to the soft crackle of a wood stove and the steady warmth pressed against my back. My eyes flutter open and I realize I'm curled into Jax like he's my personal mountain fortress. One of his heavy arms has settled around my waist sometime in the night. His breath brushes warm against my hair. Oh my goodness. I'm in bed with a US Marshal who looks like he was carved from granite and pure protective instinct. My heart does a silly little flip even as yesterday crashes back into me full force.
The courtroom. The way Hector Carlos stared straight at me from the defendant's table while I gave my testimony. Those cold dead eyes promised that no matter what the judge said or how many marshals surrounded me, he would make me pay. I can still see the blood on the garage floor from what I witnessed. The cartel wants me gone. And now I'm here in this tiny Idaho safe house with a man who makes my knees weak just by existing.
Fear coils tight in my stomach. I shift a little and Jax's arm tightens around me instantly. His voice comes low and rough right by my ear. "Easy, sweetheart. I've got you."
I squeak out a tiny sound that's half embarrassment and half relief. "Morning. Sorry I kind of attached myself to you like a scared koala."
He chuckles softly, the sound vibrating through his chest and straight into me. "Best thing I've felt in years. Stay right there as long as you need."
I almost do. I almost let the joke be the whole truth of it. But underneath the koala comment my stomach is still tight with something I haven't said out loud to anyone, not even myself in the shower this morning. I push it down anyway. Old habit. Smile first, feel later, preferably never.
