And just as important, even with my eyes all puffy and tears streaming down my face, I felt what Jax had said about me, something I’d felt when I’d stripped down for Jax.

I felt brave.

Sniffling, Teresa pulled back and she wiped under her eyes with the sides of her forefingers. “Now that we got all that covered, whose ass do we got to kick to keep you out of your mom’s mess?”

Twenty-six

Dawn was roughly an hour or so away when everyone cleared out of Jax’s townhome. Teresa and crew were still planning to tour Philly tomorrow, but as much as I wanted to spend time with them, it wasn’t smart and Detective Anders had looked like he’d lose his shit if I did go traipsing through the city.

Which really sucked, because I missed my friends, and there was more than one moment when I wondered if this would be my life now, not doing things because of this threat that really was hanging over my head.

Something had to give. I didn’t know what, but I wasn’t sure how much longer I could continue like this without losing my shit.

However, Jax had come up with a great idea—a late breakfast or early lunch at the townhouse with everyone before they headed into the city and then most likely headed back to West Virginia. So I would get to see them . . . from behind four walls.

It was better than nothing.

I’d just changed into my usual sleepwear when I was finally, after hours, alone with Jax. He stood just inside the bedroom door and his expression was on lockdown, jaw tense and lips pressed into a firm line.

A sudden nervousness rose inside me, mixing with tendrils of unease. With everything that had happened, I hadn’t forgotten that we’d kind of gotten into an argument that was unresolved, but it hadn’t been on the forefront of my thoughts.

It now raced there, elbowing all the other stuff out of the way. It didn’t matter that the stuff with Aimee was no way near as important as everything else.

The intensity carved into Jax’s striking face held me immobile as he all but stalked forward, stopping directly in front of me. Our gazes locked, and I swallowed hard as he lifted a hand. Instead of touching my left cheek, something I’d been slowly getting used to, the very tips of his fingers brushed over my lower right jaw and then to the corner of my cut lip.

“Does it hurt?” he asked.

I gave a little shake of my head. “No. Not really.”

The hue of his eyes darkened as he dropped his hand. “It shouldn’t have happened.”

Well, I wasn’t going to argue with that.

He thrust his hand through his hair. “I didn’t even notice that you’d left. You’d had a gun to your back and I was right there, not that far away, and didn’t even notice. I should’ve known.”