Chapter 4
LARK
I kicked the door shut, juggling a take-out container in one hand and my keys in the other. The quiet that settled over my tiny apartment was almost startling after the constant roar of engines and the crackle of radios at the track.
Dropping my stuff onto the counter, I blew out a breath and let the silence soak in. My first day was officially done, and I hadn’t cried, quit, or tripped over myself too badly in front of the drivers.
Except for the blond guy I’d bumped into…and kept replaying in my head way too often when I was supposed to be focused on my new job.
I was still taking today as a win, though.
I padded over to the fridge and grabbed a bottle of water before snagging my dinner and sinking onto the couch. It was barely more than a loveseat, shoved against the wall across from the television, and there wasn’t room for much more. The place was small, but it was home. At least for now.
Shifting until I found a comfortable spot, I folded my legs under me and twisted the cap off my bottle of water to take a sip. My head still buzzed from the noise and heat of the day, but underneath it all was something I hadn’t felt in a long time—pride.
I’d kept up with the chaos at the track. Handed out credentials, answered questions, and even managed to earn a few smiles from people who didn’t look like they did it often.
Not too bad for my first event.
I opened the takeout and dug into the greasy noodles, savoring every bite as I flipped the TV on for background noise. A rerun of a sitcom I’d seen before played in the background as my mind wandered, chasing the edges of thoughts I usually kept locked down. Fragments from my life before.
The flashes were blurry because I’d trained myself not to dwell on them. The faintest outlines were all I allowed—hazy images of family dinners in the house I grew up in. One I hadn’t seen in two years since starting over meant not looking back.
My stomach twisting, I pushed the container aside and drew my knees against my chest. The hardest part of being in witness protection was not being able to reach out to my parents.
I was their only child, and they had no idea where I was or if I was okay.
And there was nothing I could do about the pain they must be feeling.
Wrapping my arms around my shins and resting my cheek on top of my knees, I reminded myself that my new life was here now. I just had to keep holding it together until the danger passed, and then I’d finally be able to see them again.
I zoned out in front of the TV until a sharp rap at the door jolted me upright. My stomach tightened. The only people who ever came over were the agents in charge of my protection, and an unexpected visit probably meant bad news.
For a few seconds, I stayed frozen on the couch, debating if I could just ignore it and pretend I’d been asleep. I wasn’t expecting anyone. But curiosity had me getting to my feet.
I padded over, and my hand hovered over the deadbolt before I finally slid it back and cracked the door open.
Jax stood there, his hat pulled low and shadowing his gray eyes. Even half hidden and behind glasses, his gaze was still piercing when it met mine.
“Uh—hi?” It came out more like a question than a greeting because I was stunned to see him.
“Do you always answer the door without finding out who it is first?” he snapped.
“Um…”
He shook his head as he dipped his chin and muttered, “Need to check your setup.”
My head tilted to the side as my brows drew together. “My…setup?”
“Redline Kings look after our people,” he explained. “Gotta make sure you’re squared away.”
The words sounded casual, but the air between us was charged. My reaction to him felt too intense for the fragile bubble of peace I’d built inside these four walls. I was torn between slamming the door shut and stepping back to let him in. But the choice wasn’t really mine since I needed my job.
So I swallowed hard and forced my voice steady. “Okay. Um, come in.”
I opened the door wider, and he brushed past, leaving me rattled in his wake.
Jax didn’t sit. Instead, he prowled around my apartment like he was casing it, his gaze flicking over the mismatched furniture, the stack of junk mail on the counter, and the jumble of clean clothes I hadn’t folded yet. Nothing escaped those sharp eyes as he did a thorough check of the small space.
I stood awkwardly near the kitchen counter, twisting the cap of my water bottle until the plastic creaked.
“How long have you been in Crossbend?”
It was such an ordinary question, but I’d learned to avoid small talk whenever I could over the past two years.
I cleared my throat and forced a shrug. “A couple of months. Just long enough to find my footing.”
He nodded slowly, like he was tucking the information away in a mental file.
“And before that?”
I shifted my weight from one foot to the other, pressing my palm against the cool plastic bottle. “I moved around a bit, wasn’t sure where I wanted to settle.”
His eyes lingered on me too long, like he could see the strain beneath my easy tone. “Any family nearby?”
I dropped my gaze to the floor, then lifted it again with a tight smile. “No. It’s just me.”
My voice stayed steady only because I’d practiced this question a hundred times. Still, my pulse pounded so hard I worried it showed in my face.
Jax leaned against the counter, crossing his arms. The motion pulled the fabric of his T-shirt taut over his muscular chest, but it was his unrelenting stare that made me tuck a strand of hair behind my ear just to have something to do with my hands.
The silence stretched. He didn’t rush to fill it, didn’t offer another question right away. Just watched me, gaze dark and too astute, like he was dissecting me piece by piece.
I took another sip of water to cover my nerves, the swallow loud in the quiet room. “Do you, um, do this for all new employees?”
His mouth twitched in an almost smile, but not quite. “Only when I need to.”
His answer didn’t ease my nerves. If anything, it heightened them.
I shifted again, and the walls of the apartment suddenly became too close.
My fingers tightened on the bottle until the cap dug into my palm.
I wanted to look away, but every time I did, my eyes darted back to him, drawn by a magnetic pull I couldn’t explain.
I wasn’t even sure Jax blinked as he stood there with a quiet, simmering intensity that made me wonder if he already knew the answers to every question he asked and was just waiting for me to make a mistake.
The silence stretched so long I thought he might be done. Then, out of nowhere, he said, “Call me Jaxton.”
For a second, I wondered if I’d misheard him. “Sorry—what?”
“Jaxton.” His voice was low, even, but there was no mistaking the command underneath.
I blinked, confusion pulling a nervous laugh out of me. “I thought everyone else called you Jax.”
“You’re not everyone.”
The words landed heavily between us, holding more weight than they had any right to.
Too aware of the silence again, I wet my lips. “You really want me to call you Jaxton?”
His gaze held mine, gray and unrelenting. “Yes.”
Heat rushed to my cheeks. It was a ridiculous response to a simple request, but my body reacted before my brain could catch up. Something I didn’t want to admit to, not even to myself.
I forced out a shaky, “Okay. Jaxton.”
His eyes softened the tiniest bit, just enough that I noticed. And to make me feel like I’d passed some kind of test I hadn’t realized I was taking.
The silence that followed was different from before. Charged, like saying his name had connected us somehow.
I stood there clutching the bottle, unsettled and undeniably affected, wondering if I’d just agreed to more than I understood.
I didn’t realize I’d leaned forward until Jaxton shifted.
One step. That was all it took for the air to crackle between us.
I froze, my heart hammering, as he braced one hand on the counter near my hip. The other hovered for a beat, fingers twitching like he wasn’t sure if he should touch me.
“Fucking hell.” His palm circled the back of my neck to pull me close as his head lowered.
The first brush of his mouth was rougher than I expected. Hungry. Like he’d been holding back for far too long and finally gave in, even though we’d just met today.
Heat roared through my veins. My free hand shot out to steady myself, my palm flattening against the solid wall of his chest. The contact jolted me as much as the kiss did, sparks racing through my body as I leaned into him.
I let myself sink into the taste of him, the way his lips moved against mine, and the dizzying weight of his presence that swallowed me whole.
And then he tore his mouth from mine.
I blinked up at him, dazed, my lips tingling from the intensity of his kiss. He didn’t explain or offer an apology. Just stepped back, yanked the brim of his hat low again, and turned away like he hadn’t just unraveled me.
Moving away, he paused at the door with one hand on the knob. His voice came out low and gravelly, like he was forcing it through clenched teeth. “You shouldn’t trust people so easily.”
The words sliced straight through me. I swallowed, trying to find my balance in their wake. My laugh was too thin, too sharp. “I don’t. Normally.”
Some tension eased from his shoulders, but he didn’t look back. Didn’t even say another word.
The door clicked shut behind him, leaving me clutching my water bottle like a lifeline. My chest heaved, my lips still tingled, and the room felt smaller than ever. I was shaken and breathless, unsure what scared me more.
Jaxton himself.
Or how much I already wanted him.