“Wanna start over?” I offer. “We can write today off and call tomorrow our day one.”
Her mouth twists, eyes critical while she studies me. “You want to start afresh? After everything you’ve said?”
“Becauseof everything I’ve said.”
“Why?”
“Because perhaps it’s simply been a shit few days and we’re all just taking it out on each other, which ain’t right.” I shrug. “I think we can all do better.”
“You promise?” She lifts her chin.
I hold out my pinkie. “I swear.”
Her frown softens the longer she studies my proffered digit, eventually taking a step forward to link hers with mine. “No more pistols at twenty paces.”
“No more pistols at twenty paces,” I echo, smile tugging at my mouth.
Her touch leaves mine, arms banding about her as she steps back again, gaze fixed to the ground. I glance to the house, then across the road to Vanessa’s—Chaos’s bike in the driveway. It’s not lost on me that the minute we step foot back inside the farmhouse, this moment of truth and vulnerability from her will be over.
There are still things I want to know.Needto know. And tomorrow may be too late.
“Whodidyou call?” I match her stance and tilt my head. “You said I’d shoot you after I knew. So, who was it?”
Her face falls, gaze darting to the side as she makes a move to leave.
“Nope.” I reach out to catch her by the arm, yet stop after her reaction last time I grabbed for her.
Jenna’s gaze lingers on my outstretched hand. “Look, I get that we just called a truce, but I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Why not?”
“Because it raises more questions than it gives answers.”
“And now you’ve proven why Ineedto know.”
She sighs, shoulder curling protectively. “Do we have to do this now?”
She looks good in my sweater. “Yes.”
“In a field full of bugs.” She lifts an eyebrow.
I do the same. “Unless you’d rather I have Circus take you to the meat locker.”
Her face crumples a little. “Yeah, I’m good. I don’t need to know what that is.” Jenna glances to Vanessa’s house, the front light now on. “They’re a friend of the Kings, right?”
“Chaos’s old lady. Stop changing the subject.” I take a tentative step closer.
She doesn’t spook or move away, but she does study me from foot to head, a slight wrinkle in her brow as she settles on my face. “Did it occur to your club before you rode in to take us, that some of us might not be considered friendly?”
“Not really.” They were women who needed help—simple as that. Whether they liked us or not was and is redundant.
“It should have.” Jenna looks away again, one hand reaching out to brush the tops of the cut stalks. “That woman who died? Mary-Beth? Her father is a member of the Blood Eagles MC.”
Lust takes a back seat. “You knew her?” How else would Jenna have that kind of information? I can’t imagine the dead girl being vocal about it, not when she was caught in the belly of a rival club.
“She knewme.” Jenna shrugs, dropping her head.
“So what? You called her family today?”Why is she telling me this?“Let them know she was gone?”
