Everything that happened before the night my stepmother was killed seems distant, barely accessible, but one thing I thought I knew for sure: Carter’s a sucker for a damsel in distress.
Growing up, all Aalyiah had to do was tear up and she’d get her way with him. The smaller, more vulnerable she looked, the harder Carter’s instinct kicked in. He used to crawl out of his skin to bring her smile back.
I could do that.Easily.
Years ago or not, Carter’s a friend. He wouldn’t turn the other way if I acted scared of Jax, right?
Wrong.
When Carter first saw me atScarlett, I thought I had him. His expression whipped into one of concern. Then neutralized once Jax slid close, marking his territory.
Whatever deal they have, whatever business binds them, it shut Carter down.
Mafia men and their fucking code of honor.
Don’t touch what another man calls his.
Don’t interfere.
I’m not anyone’s woman, but Jax played his role well, sinking his fingers into my side like I was his possession.
So I doubled down.
I widened my eyes, made my lashes tremble, even flinched when Jax brushed too close. I mimicked Aalyiah’s acting tactics. I thought Carter would react the same way he always had.
The hope that ballooned when I heard about coming to Columbus fizzled out when Carter focused on the conversation, ignoring my theatrics.
Out of all the men I’ve faced, Jax is the one I fear least, so that flinch was a mighty exaggeration. Same as my doe eyes and zipped lips. My only genuine physical reaction was thetrembling. I couldn’t stay still, but it wasn’t from fear. It was a rage so fierce I thought I’d spontaneously combust.
Rage that Carter ignored me.
Rage that I had to play prey when I wanted to bare my teeth.
Thankfully, not all was lost. A certain someone paid attention and looked murderous whenever he could tear his eyes away from me to glare at Jax.
Koby Maddox.
Jackpot.
I immediately changed my plan fromget Carter’s helptogetKoby’shelp. He was already seething... all he needed was fuel.
I watched him carefully, judging which of my perfectly rehearsed behaviors ruffled his feathers most, and then I deployed the scared little kitten persona. I let my shoulders tighten when Jax leaned close. Let my body shrink back, let my eyes flick—wide and pleading—in Koby’s direction. Every signal was deliberate. A performance I despised, but one that worked.
His jaw locked, his hand twitched toward his glass like it was an anchor. He took the bait. His attention hardly veered from me the whole time we were atScarlett. He stared like he wanted to communicate telepathically with me.
And all the while, I used my body language to convey one simple message:help me.
A window of opportunity was all I needed. Someone bigger and scarier than Jax. I half hoped Koby would storm out of the back office when Jax shoved his tongue down my throat, grunting a quiet:behave or you’re going straight back to Florida.
I behaved, acting all the same. I kept myself wound up tight, discomfort rolling off me in waves... but no one came to my rescue that night nor the week after.
Jax got the sharp end of my rage stick in retribution.
Now, having made it into Carter’s home, standing behind Koby, I’m seriously questioning my life choices and this shitty one-step plan: get away from Jax at all cost.
Mission accomplished... now what?
The victory tastes sour. I didn’t think about theafter. I had no escape plan. I didn’t consider the implications, connections, or loyalties.
