OLIVIA #2
I closed my fist around it, the sharp bite into my palm a welcome sting. “Thank you.”
The tender moment was broken by an enthusiastic Ryle reaching for a long-nozzle gun. “Dibs on the AR-15.”
“No!” Callum, Jax, and Zola said at once. Callum reached around and plucked it from his grasp.
“Let’s take it easy, boyo,” Callum said, unmoved by Ryle’s answering pout. “We all know you get a wee bit trigger-happy.”
“Do not.”
I stared, wide-eyed and unnerved by the spread of weapons. “So, uh, what’s the plan exactly?”
Jax’s shoulder bumped mine. “You ever seen Home Alone?”
“Only a million times.” It was Molly’s favorite movie.
“Well, it’s like that, only more carnage.” His hands were piecing together what looked like a complicated metal egg. “We rig up the house, wait for them to set off the traps. Then we take them out.”
“And by take them out, you mean…?”
Across the room, Madoc dragged his finger across his throat.
Right. Murder. How cute.
The others were piecing together their own weapons. Zola’s fingers were flying across tablets and keys with scary speed. They’ve done this before, I realized with a sudden pang of awareness, something that shivered like fear through my body.
I’d come too far to chicken out now.
“What can I do?” I asked, feeling pathetic as I stood there, limp and useless.
Jax didn’t even falter. “What you do best.”
My expression blanked, remembering the balcony and the way I’d taken him in my mouth. Swallowed him eagerly. Annoyingly, that memory was now tainted by Madoc, his finger on my throat as he taunted me. How does he taste?
Jax gave me a lewd grin like he knew exactly what I was thinking. “Not that,” he said quietly. “Your other talent.”
It was sad just how hard I had to think. I could tumble like a pro, read five hundred words per minute, and apply liquid eyeliner in a moving car. Not exactly a helpful skillset for the current situation.
Eventually, I landed on a deflated: “You want me to cheer from the sidelines?”
He winked. “Exactly.” He handed me a small earpiece. “Put that in. Communication stays green at all times. And only use code names, no real ones.”
I slotted it into my ear. “What’s my code name?”
He reached up and tugged lightly on my ponytail. My cheeks heated, my eyes darting nervously around the room. But no one was paying us attention.
No one except him, obviously.
“Welcome to the crew, Princess,” Jax said with a conspiratorial grin.
A confusing fizzle of emotions made me duck my head in embarrassment.
For all of two seconds.
Then Jax tugged my hair again, a bit harder, so I looked up, annoyed. “You’re going to be our lookout,” he said, and inclined his head to Madoc. “You’ll be up in the trees with him.”
Madoc gave me a disconcerting smile, like he couldn’t wait to fling me out of said trees.
Next, Jax gestured to Callum. The big man unrolled sheets of construction paper with what looked like complicated architectural drawings. “We’re here,” he said, pointing to the bottom third of the page. “We can assume the tunnels run along here. They weren’t included in the initial scope.”
“Shocking,” Ryle muttered.
“The girls never see the inside of the mansion,” Jax reminded him.
Callum nodded. “Exactly. Which means we got a secondary access point somewhere on the east side of the property. It’ll be discreet. Easy to miss unless you knowin’ where to look.”
“Why not just take them out on the beach?” I asked, then immediately felt stupid when six pairs of eyes swiveled to me. I crossed my arms defensively. “What? Is there some killing etiquette I don’t know about?”
“Kinda,” Nate said, perking up from where he’d started to slump against the wall.
“We want to minimize casualties,” Jax said, scratching at the crow tattoo behind his ear. “These pieces of shit will use the girls as human shields under attack. They’ll be heavily armed and likely outnumber us. It’s better if we isolate them, lull them into a false sense of security.”
Someone’s device buzzed loudly.
Nate fished out a phone from his pocket and glanced at the screen. “Fifteen minutes until they reach land.”
“Gear up,” Jax said, and then his hands were on me, strapping a tactical vest onto my chest and tightening the straps and buckles. I immediately felt ridiculous, like a child in an adult-sized life vest, and judging my Jax’s amused squint, I looked the part.
“Where are you going to be?” I asked him as the others left the room, like hungry wolves. Ryle’s devious cackles echoed after him.
Jax slipped on his own vest, then holstered his many weapons. “Aw. You worried about me?”
I scoffed, flicking my ponytail over my shoulder. “No.”
His answering smirk caught my lie. He glanced over my head, where Madoc was waiting with a bored expression. “Listen to Madoc,” Jax said. “I mean it. If you two kill each other, I’ll be pissed.”
Madoc gave him a mocking salute and walked out without another word. Jax stared at the door for a beat, then sighed and nudged me gently after him. “He won’t wait for you.”
“He’s such a jackass.”
Jax smiled fondly. “Yeah.” Another beat passed.
Time we didn’t have. Time I wished would slow down.
There was still so much unsaid between us.
The flash drive was already lodged in my pocket, the guestbook tucked on top of my binder.
I couldn’t shake the feeling that we were missing something.
And that we were headed straight for disaster.
I searched Jax’s face, soaking in his roguish confidence, the easy set of his frame as someone born and raised in violence.
The thought of him dying punched a gaping hole in my chest, right over my already-splintered heart.
“Don’t die,” I blurted out. Way to play it cool.
“Go,” he said, and then grinned his usual cocky grin. “You can cry on me later.”
My face heated as I turned to the door. “I hate you.”
“Good.”
I forced myself to walk away, to look forward and not back. There was no time for goodbyes, but it still felt like one anyway.