Fuuuuuuuuuuck. Nothing made a man see stars like having his hey-nannies in a head-on collision with solid bone, and as his vision went wavy, his gut thought seriously about air-mailing the beer he’d just had at Vin’s all over Ad’s shirt. Willpower, and only willpower, had him overcoming cock agony and lunging forward, grabbing Ad around the calves, and forcing him off balance onto the grassy ground.

Rolling around. Lots of rolling around. Fists flying. Grunts traded. Mud everywhere.

The only thing separating them from a pair of animals was the fact that they were clothed.

And the only thing that stopped them was Eddie stepping in and picking Jim up by the back of the collar and the waistband of his jeans and lifting him out of range. After Jim was hauled free from the fight and tossed aside like a branch that had fallen off a tree, he landed facedown on brown sod, his entire body throbbing like something out of a commercial for HeadOn.

Or in his case, AlloverthefuckingbodyOn.

Breathing in cold air that smelled like fresh dirt and blood, he hurt all over and felt a lot better at the same time. Easing onto his back, he let his hands fall to the sides as he looked up at the milky sky. In the clouds above, he thought he saw the face of the girl he had left behind in that bathroom: She seemed to be staring down at him, watching over him.

Lifting an arm, he tried to touch her face, but the swirling winds of spring shifted the cloud cover, disappearing her lovely, tragic features.

He was going to find out who she was.

And he was going to do right by her.

Just as he had done right by his mother.

Those fuckers in that Camaro had been the first three men he’d killed.

“Are we done, children?” Eddie snapped. “Or do I need to spank your asses until it’ll be next winter before you can sit down again.”

Jim tilted his head and glanced over at Adrian. The bastard looked no better than Jim felt.

“Truce?” the guy said through bloody lips.

Jim inhaled as deeply as he could—until pain stopped his ribs from expanding any more. Well, hell. He might not be able to trust either one of them, but he needed help—and he had a tragic expertise in working with people who were shits.

“Yeah,” he replied roughly. “Truce.”

CHAPTER
36

“Okay, I love you. And I’ll be home later tonight. Be good for Quinesha. What?” As Vin drove them over to the residential part of town, Marie-Terese listened to her son speak and got choked up. His voice was so near and so far. “Yes. Yes, you may. I love you. Bye.”