“I’m going to kill him,” Clyde all but yelled.

A lot of people were going to kill Mack.

Clyde gave me one of his bear hugs that felt so good and promised that this would be taken care of. He did this with a spatula in one hand.

I loved the guy.

We waited an hour, and even though I felt out of it, I worked the bar during that time, keeping up appearances. Jax had warned, as did Clyde and Nick, that the bar could be watched—that there even could be people inside the bar watching. Not people who belonged to Mack, because everyone swore he was still a low-level wannabe gangsta, but Isaiah’s people, and Isaiah was anything but low level, I would learn later that night.

It was closer to midnight when Jax and I left Mona’s, and I hated leaving that early on a Friday, one of the best nights for tips, but money—unbelievably—was the least of my problems.

We drove to my house, and Jax followed me in, staying close. He wasn’t really talkative as I quickly changed into a fresh pair of jeans and a shirt that didn’t smell like a bar.

“We’re going to meet up with Reece,” was all he’d said before I headed into the bedroom.

I freshened up my makeup out of habit and then we were in Jax’s truck, driving back toward town. My stomach was in knots by the time I recognized the road his townhouse was on.

“We’re going to your house?” I asked.

He nodded, eyes on the road. “Reece will stop by here. If you’re being watched, hopefully they’ll think he’s just coming by to see me. Everyone knows we’re friends.”

My hands curled inward. “Do you think I’m being watched?”

His hand tightened on the steering wheel. “It’s possible.”

“God,” I breathed, shaking my head slowly. All of this . . . it seemed unreal.

We didn’t speak as he pulled into a parking space, hopped out, and jogged around to my side by the time I had the door open. He took my hand, holding it firmly as he walked me toward the door that had 474 in silver numbers on it.

I wasn’t sure what to expect when I walked into Jax’s house. I hadn’t been in a lot of guys’ houses, at least not any that didn’t have a girlfriend, so I was expecting the place to be a mess, full of pizza boxes and beer cans.

That’s not what I saw.

Just inside the door were a couple of pairs of sneakers, neatly stacked against the wall. One of the pairs reminded me of basketball shoes, and an image of a young boy with blond hair racing through a house, holding a basketball against his chest, filled my thoughts.

Kevin.

Shaking those thoughts out of my head, I kicked off my flip-flops, but Jax left his shoes on. Straight ahead was a stairwell that led upstairs and downstairs, to what I assumed was the basement level.