No, notlike. Shewas.
I growl, closing the Rover’s hood when I hear Jett approach.
Jealousy and rage spark within me as I remember how I almost killed him earlier.
When he shook her hand.
He touched what’s mine.
Skylar.
She was beautiful. Beaming at him. Apologizing to my brother, who had every intention of torturing, then murdering her.
I wanted to snatch her from him, haul her into my family’s truck, run over anyone who dared get in our way.
Couldn’t. Not when I had a better plan that didn’t include killing anyone.
“Yo, Hide-boy,” Jett whispers, his hand on my shoulder.
“Shut up.” I bat it away. It’s all I can do not to break it in half.
If we make a scene, Skylar’s group might run over here. They’d make a scene themselves, maybe even outrun us.
Papa might shoot them on sight to keep them from getting away.
No one’s killing my woman.
“Yeah, yeah.” Rolling his eyes, Jett huffs a laugh, then takes in my dirty jeans. “You’re done here? Well, look at you. Good job, Mask-O.”
My chest rises. Falls.
I’m still not over it.
Skylar’s hand.
Was in his.
For the past week, she’s been on my mind. All the time. And he not only touched what’s mine, but he touched her first.
Jett’s eyes narrow the longer I stare him down. I stick to my silence.
Skylar and I are none of his business.
“Whatever.” He shrugs, jerking his thumb to the farmhouse. “You comin’ to wait with us over there or what?”
“Need some fresh air.”Her. I need her.
“Have it your way.” Another shrug, and he’s off.
I wish I could say I’m relieved.
Except every nerve ending in my body is on high alert. Buzzing.
Craving.
“Last time we had service was back where we parked,” Easton—whose name I learned during my social media research—says.
“Why’d we even leave the car?” Bronwyn, Skylar’s twin, whines. “We could’ve just stayed put and let Skylar chase her sick, twisted idea of fun. Now I’ve got sand in my shoes and no damn signal.”
