Chapter 40
Chapter Forty
Jax
Kira Noland sits ramrod straight in her chair across from me, hands piously clasped in her lap as if she’s auditioning for sainthood, and if I weren’t burning in ire, I would find it extremely amusing.
But the pinch on James’ face, aimed directly at her, has me one exhale away from pulling out my gun.
I don’t know who I would shoot first; myself for agreeing to this, or Arnold, who is posted against the wall, arms folded but eyes drinking in my girl.
Or James.
God, I would love nothing more than to blow the look of disdain right off his face.
I don’t know what he could possibly be seeing that would have him anything but enamored with her natural beauty.
She’s stunning in the soft lighting of the modern contraption that hangs above the table, absolutely more delectable than anything that could be served tonight.
It takes everything in me to keep my eyes off her for fear of being read so easily.
It would be a rookie mistake to let my eyes rest on her for more than a second, since James has been catching my tells since I learned to talk.
If he sees me watching her, really watching her, it’ll be blood in the water.
He needs to think she’s no more than a lay to me.
So I watch the table instead. The ridiculous modern chandelier above it throws soft light across the polished wood, across the silver that probably costs more than Kira’s mortgage did.
Crystal glasses. Linen napkins folded perfectly.
A dinner spread that looks like a magazine cover.
And Kira, who looks like she belongs spread on the table for said magazine.
Damn it.
I force my gaze to the wall and tell my cock to calm down.
Not only is it going to put a target on Kira’s back, it’s jumping to conclusions.
She may have agreed to dinner, but she’s still angry with me, and I probably won’t get to taste her anytime soon—as much as I would love for her to be on the menu tonight.
“I hear your home was, unfortunately, in a fire?” James asks from the head of the table.
There isn’t an ounce of sympathy in his tone, and while I refuse to look, I feel Kira’s gaze flick to me.
“Um,” she clears her throat. “Yes, unfortunately.” There’s a hint of irritation, no doubt aimed at me, that makes my lip twitch. Despite being nervous, she’s still in there.
“Shame,” James maintains a dry monotone.
“It really is,” Nix pipes up, saccharine sweet, from across the table. “But it is so kind of you to let us stay here in the interim.”
And then she kicks a booted foot up onto the table.
Well, fuck.
She’s in between Caleb and Kira, with Caleb on James’ left, but the thud vibrates through the table, setting the silverware and James’ drink trembling. A tense silence follows where Kira looks horrified, Caleb visibly pales, and I nearly crack a tooth.
The one time Kira is on such good behavior, her sister is the problem. What is it with these Noland girls? If it’s not one, it’s the other.
Arnold pushes off the wall, the fucking watchdog, and my hand immediately goes to the waistband behind my back.
If he’s really going to throw a hissy fit over a teenager acting like a teenager, I don’t have any choice but to step in.
I had really hoped we’d get farther than this, but I guess this is where I lay down my cards.
The old neighbor Arnold shot was just that; old.
I could have stepped in, but the consequences weren’t worth it. In this instance, it’s worth it.
But James holds up a hand, stilling us both.
“Of course.” He leans back, a satisfied smirk curling his lips. “I would never let an acquaintance of Caleb’s go without a roof.”
I settle back into my chair as Arnold leans back again, not liking where this is going.
If there’s anything I got from James, it’s my love of a good challenge—seeing as how I spent most of my youth, horns locked, with him.
But whereas I’m not a sore loser, James is unable to accept defeat.
And if I know anything about Nix, she isn’t either. This isn’t going to end well.
Why the fuck does she want to antagonize him?
“Girlfriend,” Nix corrects.
James shrugs.
She narrows her eyes.
“Nicole,” Kira tries to hiss under her breath, her hand floating helplessly in the air, yet unable to knock down her sister’s boot. She must be too stunned.
Caleb, pinned between James and Nix, swallows and looks to me for help. Goddamn it. She’s his girlfriend, but this dinner was my mistake.
Pushing my chair out from across Kira, I give myself room to kick my own feet up on the table. “Nah,” I sigh and clasp my hands behind my head, pretending to be at ease, “I think she’s got the right idea.”
Nix looks pissed for taking her thunder, but she’s being a stupid, petulant child, not a whole lot different from how I acted at her age. But I don’t think she could handle the punishment that James likes to hand down.
Kira is baffled, flicking her eyes between the two of us. It’s honestly cute seeing her offended by lack of etiquette, but again, I can’t enjoy it as James levels his stare on me.
Filled with disgust, his gaze gets darker and darker as it tracks up my shoes, my lack of slacks, to my bare arms, inked and on full display.
They’re a trigger for him, and while I honestly forgot to don a long sleeve tonight in a weak hope of preventing a blowout, I’m glad I did.
Hopefully, I bear the full brunt of his wrath, leaving Nix unscathed.
He lets out a derisive snort and then smooths his tie, taking a measured breath before turning to Kira, who looks like a deer in the headlights.
“Do you like such vandalism of the body?” he asks her.
Her mouth opens and closes, her brows furrowed, like she can’t tell if she wants to be angry or scared. I know the feeling well.
“Be honest, dear. When you take the stake of a man, do you find him respectable when he looks like a criminal?”
Kira doesn’t respond except for a faint exhale that betrays her discomfort. Her eyes dart toward me in uncertainty, but I can’t help her. If I give her even an inch, James will sniff it out.
But he doesn’t let her silence breathe anyway.
“No?” he presses, voice soft but saturated with venom. “Of course not. Because somewhere, deep in the recesses of every decent person, there’s an instinct that picks up on it. It’s psychology, and my son is sorely lacking in the education of it.”
He turns back to me, his gaze so full of feigned pity that it takes everything in me to appear nonchalant.
“Do you think that marking yourself up with prison art makes you interesting? That it gives you character?” He leans forward.
“You think you’re making a statement, son?
Because let me tell you what women of worth see.
They see a convict, not a man with character, not a rebel, not an artist—a man who made bad choices and decided to advertise it.
” He sneers and waves a hand before continuing.
“You think tattoos earn you respect, but it’s a weak bid for real veneration. ”
He leans back with a controlled breath, no doubt reigning in the outburst he wants to have, and the following silence is excruciating.
It’s nothing I haven’t heard before, but being talked down to in front of Kira has my blood boiling.
But it’s for her sake that I don’t talk back.
And James loathes it. Not getting a rise out of me only serves to piss him off more, even though it’s an obedient dog that he wants.
I take solace in that as I admire my tattoos, and let the silence eat at him.