used with Jace. He’d thought about destroying it a million times a day, knew that he should and still couldn’t bring himself to do it.
“You’re supposed to be harder than this,” he told himself. Typically he was a cold-hearted bastard, and that suited him. And this was make-or-break time for that persona.
He threw the phone across the room and watched it shatter into a million pieces.
It didn’t matter—he knew Jace’s number by heart.
Chapter Seven
Two months later, Jace still couldn’t stop thinking about, dreaming about the entire weekend he’d had with Tomcat. There’d been nonstop sex, yes, and his ass had ached for a week after he’d left, but his heart had been filled with a strange sense of peace that remained until he’d gotten the news of Tomcat’s murder at a time when he wasn’t able to sit down and properly focus on it.
That the news had come from Kenny made it worse, since his cousin never really liked Tomcat much. And when Jace read the words, his first reaction was complete denial. He’d texted a few people he knew who knew people and determined that Kenny was right.
The president of the MC confirmed it by calling out a rival MC for the murder. And Jace could do nothing but shove it down, so damned deep he could no longer feel it, and continue his mission until he’d gotten all the tangos and had the okay to come home.
The coffin had already long gone into the ground, so now Jace stood in front of a shitty gravestone marked Tomcat and some bullshit dates Jace couldn’t believe were real.
Rain poured down, which was good. Hid the tears that shouldn’t be on his cheeks.
Barely knew the guy.
But even as the words echoed in his head, he knew it was a lie. He knew Tomcat better than he had anyone in forever—the connection had been there and damned memorable.
He hadn’t been able to get more details from Kenny on Tomcat’s death, just that the man’s car blew, with him in it. And while that was enough to make Jace suspicious, the months of no contact were enough time to lay those suspicions to rest.
How he’d gotten so close to this man in one weekend, he’d never had time to parse. He’d gone straight from Tomcat’s apartment to base and on a helo to Afghanistan.
Now he was home, and he felt like he’d lost everything.
Jace placed his challenge coin on top of the temporary marker and left, went home and drowned his sorrows and wasn’t sure why the hell he felt shaken to the core.
He found messages on his home phone from some MC members—just a friendly head’s up to lie low for a while. If Jace wanted, they’d let him walk away gracefully from the group—a military career could bring too much heat onto them once the top brass got involved.
Again, he cursed his cousin, wished the asshole hadn’t been stupid enough to pledge his allegiance to one of the most dangerous gangs in history as he dialed Kenny’s number.
“Hey, cuz, welcome home,” Kenny said.
“You hanging in?”
“Yeah. Just doin’ what you told me. Lost my job, though. The club wants to help me out.”
Ah, fuck. “I’ll lend you money. Don’t take on any jobs for them.”
“I already agreed.”
“Dammit. What’s the job?” Kenny paused, like he didn’t want to tell Jace. “Kenny, I’ll come over there and strangle it out of you.”
“It’s nothing bad. I’m just going to be doing some pickups for Cools. They want me to start tomorrow night. I’ve got to go in for a debriefing tonight.”
Pickups. Drugs, guns, it didn’t matter. Kenny was one step closer to jail and/or death. “Didn’t we talk about this?”
“I’m trying to do what you asked, but it’s not easy, Jace. And you were away and I wasn’t sure what to do.” Kenny sounded frustrated and upset, and the guy was so stupid and young.
Several weeks after Tomcat’s death, there had been a huge bust, centering around the warehouse Jace had pinpointed to the Feds months earlier. The Colombians were busted,
“You’re supposed to be harder than this,” he told himself. Typically he was a cold-hearted bastard, and that suited him. And this was make-or-break time for that persona.
He threw the phone across the room and watched it shatter into a million pieces.
It didn’t matter—he knew Jace’s number by heart.
Chapter Seven
Two months later, Jace still couldn’t stop thinking about, dreaming about the entire weekend he’d had with Tomcat. There’d been nonstop sex, yes, and his ass had ached for a week after he’d left, but his heart had been filled with a strange sense of peace that remained until he’d gotten the news of Tomcat’s murder at a time when he wasn’t able to sit down and properly focus on it.
That the news had come from Kenny made it worse, since his cousin never really liked Tomcat much. And when Jace read the words, his first reaction was complete denial. He’d texted a few people he knew who knew people and determined that Kenny was right.
The president of the MC confirmed it by calling out a rival MC for the murder. And Jace could do nothing but shove it down, so damned deep he could no longer feel it, and continue his mission until he’d gotten all the tangos and had the okay to come home.
The coffin had already long gone into the ground, so now Jace stood in front of a shitty gravestone marked Tomcat and some bullshit dates Jace couldn’t believe were real.
Rain poured down, which was good. Hid the tears that shouldn’t be on his cheeks.
Barely knew the guy.
But even as the words echoed in his head, he knew it was a lie. He knew Tomcat better than he had anyone in forever—the connection had been there and damned memorable.
He hadn’t been able to get more details from Kenny on Tomcat’s death, just that the man’s car blew, with him in it. And while that was enough to make Jace suspicious, the months of no contact were enough time to lay those suspicions to rest.
How he’d gotten so close to this man in one weekend, he’d never had time to parse. He’d gone straight from Tomcat’s apartment to base and on a helo to Afghanistan.
Now he was home, and he felt like he’d lost everything.
Jace placed his challenge coin on top of the temporary marker and left, went home and drowned his sorrows and wasn’t sure why the hell he felt shaken to the core.
He found messages on his home phone from some MC members—just a friendly head’s up to lie low for a while. If Jace wanted, they’d let him walk away gracefully from the group—a military career could bring too much heat onto them once the top brass got involved.
Again, he cursed his cousin, wished the asshole hadn’t been stupid enough to pledge his allegiance to one of the most dangerous gangs in history as he dialed Kenny’s number.
“Hey, cuz, welcome home,” Kenny said.
“You hanging in?”
“Yeah. Just doin’ what you told me. Lost my job, though. The club wants to help me out.”
Ah, fuck. “I’ll lend you money. Don’t take on any jobs for them.”
“I already agreed.”
“Dammit. What’s the job?” Kenny paused, like he didn’t want to tell Jace. “Kenny, I’ll come over there and strangle it out of you.”
“It’s nothing bad. I’m just going to be doing some pickups for Cools. They want me to start tomorrow night. I’ve got to go in for a debriefing tonight.”
Pickups. Drugs, guns, it didn’t matter. Kenny was one step closer to jail and/or death. “Didn’t we talk about this?”
“I’m trying to do what you asked, but it’s not easy, Jace. And you were away and I wasn’t sure what to do.” Kenny sounded frustrated and upset, and the guy was so stupid and young.
Several weeks after Tomcat’s death, there had been a huge bust, centering around the warehouse Jace had pinpointed to the Feds months earlier. The Colombians were busted,
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