Somehow he looks even more handsome than he usually does as he nods down at me, and I remember that this is his element. Burning things down and covering them up. His dark eyes are sharp, jaw ready to cut. The confidence is formidable. I only wish I felt a fraction of how he looks.
“This looks bad,” I quickly whisper, panic crawling up my throat. “It’s not going to work.”
“Breathe, buttercup.” He smirks, breaking his stoic deposition for me. “You’re untouchable now.”
There’s a gleam in his eyes, and they flare with excitement as he turns to face Layton, who rests his hand on his gun as he approaches.
“I would say this is a really bad case of luck,” Layton says, “but you make your own luck, don’t you?” He flicks a side-eye toward the lone stretcher with a black bag.
I grimace and lean into Jax, hoping like fuck that his confidence is well placed, and I happen to catch a glimpse of Nix. She’s with an officer, playing the part perfectly—arms hugged around herself, face blotchy, tear tracks on her cheeks—not the least bit panicked that the body they just wheeled out has two bullet holes that she put into it. Maybe that’s why I don’t have any faith—her and Jax are eating it all up.
“We’re done, Layton,” Jax says casually, and I whip my eyes back. “No need for smart quips anymore—as much fun as they’ve been.”
“I think we’re just getting started, actually,” Layton counters, voice tight.
“Oh?” Jax tilts his head, voice lazy and teasing, and I realize he’s enjoying this. “Have you… spoken to your captain?”
In between questioning, Jax has been on the phone nonstop. I can only assume it’s been with said captain, and probably other lawyers at the firm, spreading the news and taking the reins. I don’t know what goes into a transfer of power like this, but it seems Jax has already got the ball rolling.
Layton’s eyes turn to slits, and he looks around the grounds with slow suspicion, as if he can spot who’s tugging his strings. “Thecaptainis eager to see justice found,” he says, half paying attention, but he doesn’t sound too sure anymore.
Jax clicks his phone on to check the time. “Was that before or after 3:42 a.m.?” He glances meaningfully at the black body bag, no doubt quoting the declared time of death.
Layton doesn’t miss the emphasis and suddenly stomps away. Jax rolls on the balls of his heels, clearly pleased, as Layton pulls aside the guy opening up the back of the coroner’s van. There’s a rushed, frustrated exchange of information, and then Layton straightens without turning around, as if trying to find a shred of composure, or possibly dignity.
Layton must know all too well what it means for James Landon to be dead, sharper than the rest of us in putting together where that elevates Jax. I can’t imagine he knew the inner workings of the Landon family, but he must have somehow deduced that Jax wasn’t being backed by his father, otherwise there wouldn’t have been an opening to take my truck. But now that he’s dead, Jax doesn’t need anyone to back him, and Layton must be having a hard time coming to terms with that—with the fact that, in Jax’s words, Jax is untouchable, and anyone else he sees fit to place in that category with him.
Me.
Whatever fucking do-gooder hard-on Layton has for me is vanishing right before his eyes, causing his face to turn afluster of red. And I almost can’t believe it. I know that James was supposed to be some almighty hot shot, that he held the Cloverwick PD in the palm of his hand, but seeing it on Layton’s face, seeing how thwarted he is just by deduction when no directives have been given, has me mystified.
Whatever they find, or possibly already found in my truck, must mean nothing now. If Layton can sense it, then it must be true. A weight leaves my shoulders, replaced with hope, and I look again for Nix. She’s rubbing her arms, pretending to sniffle, but she has a sharp gaze on our little scene, and when she meets my eyes, she winks.
Little shit.
“See, buttercup? Untouchable,” Jax says under his breath, at the exact same time as Arnold appears out of nowhere and punches him in the face.
Chapter Sixty
Jax
My head whips hard to the left, though my stance doesn’t waver, resulting in my jaw cracking.
Motherfucker.
“You finally did it, you bastard! Didn’t you?” Arnold spittles. “You grew a pair and you fucking took him out! I should have known. I should have—” His shouting gets drowned out by the sound of me putting my jaw back into place.
A sharp, shooting pain travels up my temple as the pressure releases, and I grit my teeth before I do something stupid in front of twenty witnesses.
“Your own father!” he continues. “I didn’t think you had it in you, but you’re a cold piece of shit, aren’t you? Aren’t you?!”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I bite out, feeling Layton’s eyes burn a hole in the side of my face. “There was afaulty wire. We were lucky to get out ourselves.”
“Faulty wire my ass! I taught you that one, kiddo. You think I’m stupid?” He’s positively fuming. There’s a vein bulging in his forehead, spittle at the corners of his mouth.
I contemplate choking him out to subdue him before he causes even more of a scene. “Right now, yes, I think you’re plenty fucking stupid,” I hiss and rub the side of my jaw.
“Couldn’t be the money.” He ignores my comment. “You don’t give a fuck about the money. So it has to be about her.” He jabs a finger at Kira, and I knock his hand down, taking a step in front of her.
