I step up beside them. “Hey,” I say to Becca. “You seen Sisk?”
Becca’s eyes flick to me, then past me, then back. “She was just?—”
A loud whistle cuts in before she can finish. “Lose something?”
I glance at him. He grins wider, enjoying this already. “Don’t tell me it’s your little ballerina doll?” he adds, his voice dripping with jealousy. “Should’ve seen her a minute ago. Spilled something all down her shirt. Those tits, man… like they were painted on. Real shame to let a view like that go to waste.”
“Move.” I shoulder past the first girl, then the second, not waiting for them to react.
Whistle doesn’t even shift, he hooks his thumbs casually at his waistband, his worn jacket riding back just enough to show the matte black grip tucked against his hip. A clear message.
One of the other girls swallows hard, her eyes glued to the gun. Whistle’s watching my face, waiting for a reaction. I don’t give him one. His smile wavers and I see he’s annoyed. He wanted a fight, or fear. He got neither.
Becca points. “She went that way. Toward the old pump station.”
I don’t say thanks. I don’t even look at Whistle again. I just turn and walk away.He can have his little power trip.
I move fast, almost running, turning corners, slipping between the crowd in the direction Becca pointed until I hear them.
“Hey, hey,” the guy says gently. “Let me help. Come here.”
Sisk’s voice, muffled. “It’s fine.”
“It’s not,” he says. “Hold on.” His voice is careful now, like he’s talking someone through something fragile. “Let me try.”
I hear a grunt, and before I hear the rest of it, I run toward the sound, rounding a dumpster. My protective instincts kick into overdrive, my mind already cataloging a dozen ways to hurt whoever has her upset. I’m halfway to them when she sees me. Her head snaps up, she immediately crosses her arms over her chest, her naked chest, barely covered by a half-unzipped men’s jacket. The movement is defensive, shielding herself. From me.
I don’t know who this guy thinks he is, but he steps in front of her and turns to me, annoyed. “St. Clair,” he says flatly. “Of course it’s you.” He doesn’t move, still blocking her from me. “Can I help you?”
Lou, I know him. He’s her friend, but that means less than nothing to me right now.Why the fuck is she letting him see her like this? Do whatever the fuck is happening here?
“Yeah,” I bite out, my gaze locked on Sisk over his shoulder. “You can get lost.”
He scoffs, not intimidated in the slightest. “Relax, Jax. She’s having a moment. So maybe you should just?—”
The red haze of jealousy starts to creep in.Why him? Why is it okay for him to see her like this, but the second I look at her, she hides?
She exhales frustrated. “Jax, stop,” Sisk says, “It’s not what it looks like.”
I take another step forward.
“Turn around,” he tells me.
“The fuck I will.”
“Do it Jax,” she tells me, her voice leaving no room for argument.
I reluctantly do it, turning my back to them, my fists clenched at my sides. All I can think about is his hands on her, and it’s taking everything in me not to turn around and throw him against this dumpster.
“Okay, okay—hold on,” Lou says. “Let me try this way…” He sighs. “It’s really stuck,” he says after a moment of struggling.
“What the hell is going on?” I ask impatiently.
“The zipper is stuck,” Sisk tells me.
“I can help,” I say, spinning back around.
He immediately steps in front of her again. “Not happening.”
