“I try not to,” he tells me. “But then sometimes I wonder,” he continues, “the tar takes so much. Maybe, maybe I should give a little back to this shithole.”
That’s when I see in his eyes, the weight. The burden. A penance. He’s not just helping people; he’s trying to balance a scale that’s been tipped his whole adult life, a scale that the city, the tar, has been actively weighing down. Maybe the whole vigilante thing is a little more than just a role he’s playing.
Jax studies me for a long moment, then he sets his empty glass on a crate and rolls his shoulders like he’s shaking off the weight of what he just admitted.
“Looks like Lola lost,” he says, voice rough but teasing again. “I want my reward.”
I glance back toward the fight pit. The crowd’s still loud, bloodthirsty.
“We never really established rewards.”
“Yes we did,” he says, stepping closer. ”I win, I get your ass for twenty fucking minutes, not one less.”
“And what if I win?” I ask, challenging him.
“You already lost.”
“Then raise the bet.”
He lifts a brow, intrigued. “I get your pussy. Then your ass. Twenty minutes each. In this exact order.”
A breathless sound comes out of my mouth, part shock, part excitement. “Fine. But if I win…” I pause. “I want you to get a piercing.”
He laughs, a low, arrogant rumble. “Think I’m scared of an earring? In case you haven’t noticed. I got a few already.”
I pull back to meet his eyes, my own voice turning into a deadpan whisper. “That dick of yours is boringly intact.”
His laughter dies in his throat. He stares at me, and I think I’ve gone too far, that I’ve finally broken through the swagger.
“Shit… fine.”
“Six of them,” I push my advantage. “I want a full ladder. On top, just to please me.”
He throws his head back and laughs, a delighted, goddamn terrifying sound. “Fucking savage rabbit… you really know how to raise the stakes, don’t you?” He looks at me. “Anything else, or are we done negotiating the terms of my surrender?”
“Let’s play.”
Thirty-Five
THEN | JAX
We fall into step, Lou on one side of her, me on the other. As we walk back toward the noise, Sisk’s hand brushes against mine, and I take it, lacing our fingers together.
We weave through the crowd on the street, heading back to the front where the bikes are lined up for the next race.
“You do realize you’re gonna have to go with someone, right?” Lou asks Sisk, nudging her playfully. “These aren’t carnival rides. You need a partner.”
“Which one is yours?” I ask him, my eyes scanning the machines.
“Mine? Oh, sweet boy, I wish,” Lou says with a dramatic sigh, fanning himself.
“I thought… you said this was his jacket and…” I say, turning to Sisk.
“This jacket is purely for aesthetic purposes. I ride the train like a civilized person. It’s cheaper, and the chances of me becoming a human smear on the asphalt are significantly lower. Plus, you get to overhear the most fascinating conversations,” he answers for her.
“No fucking way I’m letting you get on a bike with anyone else here,” I tell Sisk firmly. I don’t care who hears. The thoughtof her pressed up against one of these thugs makes my blood boil.
She turns to me. “Then ride with me.”
