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“How was the event? Did it go well?” He stops cutting to wipe his forearm over his face, colorful ink shifting on his skin as his biceps bulge, and my mouth goes dry.
“Yeah, great.” I force myself to look down at the cheese I’m supposed to be slicing before I chop off a finger. “Lots of people came in, DeathMoth performed a few songs, the catering was perfect. We have that tattoo group from Chicago joining in the event. We’ll be doing a simila
r event with them over there in the next few months.”
“Soul Stain, right? Jesse Lee told me about them.”
“You talk to him lately?”
“Nah. Haven’t seen him in a while.”
Shit. I abandon the damn cheese, putting the knife down carefully. “My fault. You thought he didn’t trust you—”
“Not your fault.” He’s still attacking the tomatoes. “I wasn’t at my usual spot lately, and even so… better that way. Meeting with me is dangerous, with Simon watching me and all.”
My chest feels too tight. “We’ll stop Simon.”
A snort. “Yeah…”
“We will.” I grip his shoulder, and he puts the sharp knife down, glancing at me, a question in his eyes. I yank him to me, needing to feel his body on mine. “I talked with the guys. There was the Inked Brotherhood, and some friends of the Soul Stain people. They have connections to the Mob. They’ll take care of Simon, shut down the MC.”
His brows go up. “Mob. The Mafia? You’re shitting me.”
“The Russian Mob. Look, Jase, I’m serious about this. We’ll take care of it. But you need to tell me where the Club is. That’s all.”
He nods, silent.
“You’ll be safe. Trust me.”
He shakes himself free of my hold. “Will innocent people be hurt? How exactly does the Russian Mob shut down an MC? Will Simon die?”
“Are you…?” I frown. “Wait a sec. Are you worried about Simon after all he put you through, after he threatened you and your friends?”
“No, I’m not worried. Hell no.” His dark brows knit.
“Good.” A weight lifts off my chest. For a moment, I thought he’d tell me not to touch Simon, like some Stockholm syndrome reaction. The guy tortured him. He deserves a lifetime of pain for it. “He has to pay for what he put you through.”
Jason swallows so hard his throat clicks and looks away. “He’s my cousin. But it changes nothing.”
I nod, and pretend it’s news to me. “There’s something I have to ask you, Jase… Was it him who put the scars on you? Because then I’ll kill the bastard myself.”
His back goes rigid. He braces his hands on the table edge. “No. I only met him a few years ago. These are much older.”
“Okay.” I force myself to stay calm. “Was it your parents?”
A shudder runs through him. “No. I don’t know. Fuck, I can’t remember.”
Shit. “Are your folks still around?”
He shakes his head.
I reach for him but drop my hand before he sees it. Don’t push him more now, Raine. “Mine are crooks who would suck me and Ocean dry if they could, and God knows they’ve tried. They’ve never cared beyond themselves.” I force myself to keep going, looking for any signs of him relaxing. “So I didn’t have a stellar childhood by any stretch of the imagination. But there were kind people at the trailer park where I grew up, apart from my brother. Crazy Jo, before she got too crazy. Skinny Anny.” I let out a deep breath. “Livvy.”
He turns then, his gaze uncertain. “Show me,” he says.
“Show you what?”
Last time this was code for sex, but even as he closes the distance between us, shoves me up against the counter and pushes up my T-shirt I know it’s not that. “Let me see. Your scar.”
