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“And secondly?” he asks.
“Well, where the heck would I even start? My mom never told my aunt where this one-night stand happened, where she met this man or anything.”
“It’s a tricky one,” Jaxon agrees. “But it’s not impossible. You mentioned she went to live on the West Coast. Maybe she mentioned something to someone there. I could hire somebody to look into it for you. I’m not saying you have to. I’ll support you either way. But the option is there.”
I bite down, wrapping my arms across my middle, as Jaxon brings the car to a stop at the end of the street.
“I’m not sure. Can I think about it?”
“Of course,” he says. “Like I said, I’ll support whatever you decide. I’ll always support you.”
We’re parked outside a store called Walker Electronics, the sign looking as brand-spanking-new as I feel, bright in the streetlamp light. The shutters are down for the evening.
“This is exactly where my old man’s store used to be,” Jaxon says, a wistful quality to his voice but happy all the same, making me even more certain he’s going to be an incredible father.
I can just imagine him talking in that anything-is-possible tone to our children, filling them with hope for the future.
Reaching over, I take hold of his hand.
“I’m going to show it to my dad next time he visits,” Jaxon says. “And ask him if he wants to help manage the place. I know he won’t want to work here full time. They’ve got a life in Maine. But the look on his face, Jessie, when he sees his old store, his old sign… I’m really looking forward to that.”
I lean forward and lay my lips against his cheek. “I think he’ll love it, Jax. I just hope…”
Reading my thoughts, he turns to me. “They’re going to love you, Jessie. Absolutely love you.”
“And they’ll be okay with the age gap?” I murmur.
He nods. “My parents are the best. They’ll support us. I know they will. My mom’s going to go crazy when she realizes she’s going to have a daughter-in-law…”
He trails off, his gaze sliding to the window behind me.
Daughter-in-law.
Did he just freaking propose to me by accident?
At first, I think that’s why he’s staring so bleakly out the window, his lips twisted savagely.
But then somebody knocks on the glass behind me, tap-tap-tap.
I turn toward the noise.
Where a man with a gun grins from ear to ear.
Chapter Twenty
Jaxon
Tyrone is grinning like a complete fucking lunatic, his eyes glassy as he peers in through the window and stares into the car. He’s shaved his head since I last saw him, and his face is covered in tattoos, a teardrop under one eye, and a tribal pattern creeping up his throat.
He looks like a criminal. An insane criminal.
Keep your woman safe, a voice insists, a command I can’t ignore, not that I would. Whatever happens, Jessie has to get out of this alive.
“Well, hello there,” Tyrone says. “Are you going to get out of the car, or am I going to have some fun?”
He taps the glass again, causing Jessie to let out a whimper. That drives a hot poker into my belly, urging me to leap from the car and grab the back of his head and slam him into the glass over and over again.
But if I did that, he’d shoot me. And then what would happen to my woman?
Fuck.
I need to focus, not let my anger guide me.
“We’ll get out,” I tell him, reaching across and squeezing Jessie’s shoulder. “It’s okay. We’re going to be okay. Hey, Jessie. Look at me.”
She turns slowly, as though afraid to take her eyes off the gun in case this psychotic bastard starts shooting. Then she nods, trying to convince herself of my words.
“I trust you,” she murmurs.
Tyrone makes a gagging noise. “How sweet.”
Stepping from the car slowly, I make sure to graze my hand along the door handle. Reaching underneath for the secret button. It’s like this idiot thinks I never expected he’d try and pull some crap like this.
I just never guessed I’d have the woman of my dreams with me when it happened.
I look across the roof of my car to find Tyrone stepping back just enough to let Jessie out. My fists clench as I watch them, studying the distance between them. If he tries to touch her, I am going to dismantle him piece by goddamn piece.
“What’s wrong, tough guy?” he calls over to me. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
A corpse, more like if he lays a single finger on Jessie.
“What do you want?” I growl.
“Your cellphones, for a start.”
Sighing, I take mine from my pocket and slide it across the hood. He snatches it and then stares down at the place where it slid across the car, his lips firm, his eyes seeming to flare.
