Jax leans back, stretching one long arm along the back of the booth. His fingers brush my shoulder and stay there. “You always this cheerful when cartel hitmen are after you?”
“Fake it till you make it,” I admit with a little shrug. “Plus, barbecue helps. Everything feels less terrifying when there’s cornbread involved.”
The food arrives on two giant platters that barely fit on the table. The ribs glisten with sauce, the brisket is sliced thick and smoky, and the pulled pork is piled high next to golden cornbread squares dripping with honey butter. I dive in with zero shame, moaning around my first bite of rib.
“Oh wow. This is better than any book I’ve ever read. The sauce has a little kick but then it mellows out with the honey. I’m in love.”
Jax watches me lick sauce off my thumb and his eyes darken. “Careful, Ava. Keep making sounds like that and we’re not making it back to the SUV anytime soon.”
My face flames. I point my fork at him. “You can’t say things like that while I’m covered in barbecue sauce, Marshal Hartman. It’s unfair.”
He reaches across the table and wipes a tiny smear of sauce from the corner of my mouth with his thumb. Then he brings that thumb to his own lips and tastes it. “Tastes better on you.”
I nearly drop my fork. The tension between us crackles hotter than the fireplace. I want to climb across the table and kiss him. I also want to hide under it. Both seem equally likely.
We finish most of the enormous platter between playful jabs and long heated looks. By the time we step back outside the night air feels cooler, the stars brighter against the mountain sky.
Back in the vehicle, my belly is full and happy, but the quiet returns as Jax pulls onto the road. His hand finds mine on the center console and holds it, warm and sure.
“Get some rest,” he murmurs. “You’re safe.”
I squeeze his fingers and let myself lean toward him just a little. The road stretches ahead into the dark, but for the first time since this whole nightmare started I feel safe. And maybe a tiny bit excited about whatever comes next.
18
Jax
The SUV eats up the dark mountain road, headlights cutting through the trees like a blade. Ava sleeps beside me, curled up under my jacket with her head resting against the window. Her breathing is soft and even, those full lips parted just enough to make me want to pull over and taste them. She looks peaceful.
My grip tightens on the wheel. I should’ve dropped her at the safe house hours ago. Right after we stopped for barbecue. The safe house was mere miles from the restaurant. Instead I keep driving deeper into the mountains, buying every extra minute I can with her.
My phone vibrates against the console. Mason’s name flashes on the screen. I answer before the second ring, keeping my voice low.
“Yeah.”
“Jax, where the hell are you?” Mason’s voice comes through rough and pissed. “You missed the drop-off window. Team’s waiting. What’s going on?”
I glance at Ava. She stirs a little but doesn’t wake. “Change of plans. I need more time with her.”
Silence stretches for a beat. Then Mason lets out a low curse. “Jax, you’re not doing what I think you’re doing, are you?”
I don’t deny it. “I can’t hand her over to WITSEC. Not yet. Maybe not ever.”
“Jesus Christ.” His tone shifts, part warning, part understanding. “You know what happens if you go rogue on this. They’ll come after you too.”
“If anyone should get it, it’s you,” I growl back. “A few months ago you disappeared with Riley into that cabin and didn’t surface for weeks. Same damn situation. You looked at her and the rules stopped mattering. Tell me I’m wrong.”
Mason exhales hard. I can practically see him pacing that cabin of his. “This isn’t the same. Riley’s situation was different. Ava’s testimony is key to taking down Carlos and the whole cartel. You keep her off the books and you’ll end up in jail, brother. Or worse. They don’t mess around with marshals who go dark.”
I know he’s right. Doesn’t change the storm raging inside my chest. Ava’s laugh from dinner still echoes in my head, the way she licked barbecue sauce off her fingers and blushed when I wiped her lip. The way she looked at me like I was her hero instead of just the man assigned to keep her alive. I care about her. Deep. Maybe even love her. The kind of feeling that sinks into your bones and refuses to let go.
“I’m not turning her over,” I say, voice flat and final. “Not until I know she’s safe for good. Not until she’s mine.”
Mason’s quiet for a long moment. “You’re playing with fire. Call me when you come to your senses. And watch your back.”
The line goes dead. I stare at the road ahead, jaw locked so tight it aches.
I pull over onto the narrow shoulder. The engine ticks down as I kill it. Cold mountain air rushes in when I step out and close the door quietly behind me. I walk a few paces away, boots sinking into the frost-hardened ground, and drag a hand through my hair.
