Page 39

Run and lose my quarry, stay and risk capture on both sides? Nick takes another backwards step, hand still in his pocket. Silverback’s boot thuds hollowly onto the carpet of the hallway landing. And I’m the rabbit caught between a trap and a fox.

Think, Jax. Run.

I shift back, the tiniest half step. Feet silent, fingers relinquishing their hold on the heavy wood. I’m careful, quiet. Soundless. The Rogue.

I’m human. I’m Jax Summer.

The elegant diamond cufflink I insisted on wearing catches against the side of the door. It’s the softest scrape of sound, little more than a pin drop in a noiseless room.

Nick whirls, light snapping upwards.

For one suspended, frozen moment, we stare at each other. And despite the years I’ve had to grow up and grow in, despite the darkness, despite the mask covering my face and my lack of ball cap, he recognizes me in an instant.

His face cracks into a wide grin. The words escape in a whisper. “Jax fucking Winter.”

“Nick.” And me, poor stupid little Jax Summer, I’m so shocked by my own clumsiness, by my own name on someone else’s tongue, I don’t move, don’t even attempt to trip over my own feet, as Nick closes in—and the Silverback pops out of the darkness beside me.

Shit, where the hell did he come from? How . . . What’s happening? I’d almost think this whole room was just an elegantly laid trap, except Nick definitely took something from that nightstand.

But everything else—the darkened third floor, the bypassed showroom, the boots thudding the stairs. And me caught between them . . .

Nick’s fingers close around my collar as Silverback’s meaty paws clap down on my shoulders.

Trapped. Me.

Caught.

The blood beats in my ears. Breath comes too shallow. Nick’s face blurs in my vision.

I’m a lot of things. Cute, charming, sneaky, clever, quick on my feet and in my brain, smarter than most.

One thing I am not, however, is good in a fight. My strategy for fighting is pretty simple: avoid at all costs. So, if I fail there—reach this point where I’ve got a hand on my collar and my back against a wall—I’m fucked.

Just . . . donesky.

“Long time, no see.” Nick offers me the palest imitation of a smile. Doesn’t improve the feeling of dread coursing through my body on a river of adrenaline, on too-fast heartbeats and too-shallow breaths.

I got no words.

I know better than to try and talk my way out of this bullshit, even before the cool kiss of steel against my throat tells me, without having to glance down, that Nick’s leveled a knife against my jugular.

“Let’s take a walk.”

I don’t protest as he nudges me out into the hall, into the adjacent bathroom, when that blade doesn’t budge from my neck and Silverback’s sweating palms ruin the sleeves of my suit. My shoulders slam the wall before I even register that Nick’s thrust me backward.

“Watch the door,” he growls at Silverback, and like a good little minion, the man obeys. So, any hopes of my blond friend finding me and rushing in to save me like my knight in shining armor are dashed. Silverback’s bigger and angrier and gorilla-ier than Blondie.

It’s me and Nick in this room. Me and Nick and the past between us. And Nick’s knife.

I’m fucked.

From the grin curving Nick’s lips into a cruel crescent, he knows it. “Haven’t you learned anything, Jax?”

I swallow against the sudden burn of bile in my throat. Think about flashing him a smile, the one with the dimple, the one I knew first pulled him into my orbit. Or maybe I was pulled into his. Hard to say with—shit. I’m spiraling.

Focus, Jax.

He keeps talking, because my thought-spiral apparently cost me my chance to participate in this little conversation. Rolled us right into the villain monologue.