“It’s in the Escalade,” Courtney said, her voice syrupy sweet and so unlike her Jase had to peer around the corner of the vehicle just to make sure it was really her. He had to assume she was talking about the painting the Sniper 1 team had stashed there before they’d headed out. “I was hopin’ you boys could help me get it. It’s kinda heavy.”
Yep. They had company, all right, and she was luring them right where she wanted them.
Jase waited until Courtney and her newly acquired entourage had made it to the Escalade. When she made her move, he snuck around and helped, taking one of the guys down with a quick blow to the back of the head while Courtney disengaged two others. He had no idea how many more there were, or if there would be more joining them, but he knew, for now, his sole responsibility was to keep an eye on Courtney. Rock had clearly been detained at the house, but that, too, had been the plan.
Most people wouldn’t go up against Rock—due to his sheer size and the menacing look on his face—which also meant they didn’t trust him. Not that Jase blamed them. Going up against Rock was just stupid, unless, of course, you were in the mood to get taken down.
“Three out here,” Courtney noted, her gaze on the house.
Jase wanted to ask her what was happening, but he knew better. She was already a mess, though on the outside, she was just as put together and calm as usual. She was likely worried about Max being inside the house. But Jase knew Max. The guy could take care of himself.
Honing his patience, Jase waited beside Courtney and Leyton. Ready for whatever came next.
Half an hour later, after that relatively uneventful outing, Jase was back at Max’s house with Ashlynn. Max had taken Courtney to the hospital because apparently one of the guys had been shot, the bullet shattering his elbow. Or so Jase had heard during the commotion afterward. Not that he’d stuck around long enough to find out everything that had gone down. When Rock had commanded him to get back in the Escalade, he’d done so without question. Last fucking thing he needed was to have a run-in with the cops. Although the Adorites had some pretty powerful people on their payroll, that didn’t mean he was willing to take any unnecessary risks. So he’d climbed in the backseat while Leyton rode shotgun. For the few minutes it took to get back to Max’s, Jase had spent nearly every second staring at Leyton, wondering just how long it would be before the sexy-as-sin man finally gave in.
“Everything go okay?” Ashlynn asked when he joined her out on the veranda.
Victor, Madison, Aidan, and Brent were standing around, chatting and laughing while Ashlynn appeared to be keeping to herself. Jase wasn’t sure why that was, but she’d been acting strange for most of the day.
“Good, I guess,” he told her.
“Where’s Leyton?” she asked.
“Hiding I’m sure,” he said.
A knowing smile tipped the corners of her succulent mouth. What he wouldn’t give to plant his lips on hers right then. Strip her bare and fuck the shit out of her the way he knew she needed.
That was the thing about Ashlynn. She dealt with her anxiety with either booze or sex. Mostly sex. Sometimes both. In many ways, she was like her mother. That made sense in a morbid way, because Genevieve had been the only female role model Ashlynn had ever had, but from all Jase knew of Genevieve, he didn’t want Ashlynn to end up like her. At all. Although Ashlynn’s mother was cordial to him, Jase knew the hard life Genevieve had lived had jaded her, making her into a shell of the woman she should’ve been.
Not that he had any control over how Ashlynn handled the demons she battled on a daily basis. Ashlynn was as ruthless as Max, sometimes more so. She’d endured a lot in her twenty-six short years and come out on the other side determined and somewhat damaged.
“Need a drink?” he asked.
Ashlynn handed him her empty glass. He was tempted to ask how many she’d had already. He figured at least four or five since she seemed rather subdued. With her, it could go either way. Sometimes the alcohol brought her down; other times it made her frisky.
He preferred frisky.
Before he could go back inside, Brent stopped him, asking for a play-by-play of what had gone down. Jase told him all that he knew, but he wasn’t able to get away from Ashlynn’s brother before he realized she was disappearing inside the house.
“I need to check on her,” Jase informed Brent.
“Sure. She okay? She seems a little out of it today.”
Jase simply shrugged. Honestly, he didn’t know what was going on with Ashlynn, but if he ventured a guess, he’d have to think her mind was on Leyton lately.
Which had been the case for quite some time now.
For both of them.
Chapter Five
Don’t ask.
Fourteen years ago
Tenth grade
“You’re comin’ over to hang out this weekend, right?” Max asked from his locker on the other side of the narrow walkway inside the boys’ locker room.
As he tugged his T-shirt off, ready to change back into his regular clothes after the torturous practice they’d just endured, Leyton tossed a brief look at Max over his shoulder, shrugging in response to Max’s question. He was too tired to talk, drained from being out in the hot sun for the last two hours.
It was no secret, Leyton fucking hated soccer, but he’d signed up for it after the counselor urged him to do something that would help with his aggression. She’d informed him that if he continued on the path he was on, he would never graduate from high school and would likely end up in a dead-end job for the rest of his life.
Like the bitch knew him or something.
“Seriously, man. Come over. We’ll do somethin’. I can get the car and we’ll go out.”
Leyton couldn’t give Max a straight answer, because at this point, he wasn’t sure what his plans were for the weekend yet. It all depended on his father, the mood he was in, whether or not he was passed out drunk or irate and on another terror. Leyton hated cancelling plans, so rather than get stuck doing that, he preferred not to solidify anything until he knew for sure how things would play out.
“Holy fuck, man. What the hell is that?” Max’s appalled tone had Leyton looking at him again. Max was staring at Leyton’s back.
Twisting, Leyton peered down at his side, the spot Max was pointing at, noticing the huge multicolored bruise that covered a large portion of his side and much of his lower back.
Shit. He’d meant to be more careful. Clearly he was too tired to pay attention.
“Your whole fuckin’ back is black and blue. And what are those? Cigarette burns?” Max stepped to the side, obviously trying to look at Leyton’s front.
“It’s nothin’,” Leyton grumbled, yanking his T-shirt on over his head with a grimace and pulling it down to cover the result of his father’s drunken rage the night before. The burn scars were old, but the bruises … nope, those were fresh.
“Bullshit. That ain’t nothin’,” Max snapped. “Who’d you get in a fight with? And why didn’t I know about it?”
“No fight,” Leyton answered, wishing like hell Max would drop it.
“Dude, your ribs are probably cracked.”
“They’re not,” Leyton said, although he suspected they could be. The pain was vicious, but he’d managed to pretend otherwise, even when he’d thought he would die during practice. He definitely didn’t want anyone knowing that his old man beat the shit out of him almost every single night these days.