Page 91 of Jett

RAINE

Two months later

IHANG MY APRON ONthe hook and turn to the girls. “Okay, that’s me finished for the day.”

“Good luck,” Kimba says. “Though, is it wrong to hope you don’t like the place? I’ve kind of enjoyed having a roomie. Besides, who’s going to make me freshly baked cookies?”

“Well, you can still keep me on as a waitress here, and I’ll bring my cookies to the store.” I tuck my hair behind my ear and check my reflection in the stainless-steel coffee machine. The image is a little warped, but it’s enough to see that I don’t have any food caught in my teeth.

“Did someone say cookies?” Kick steps up to the counter, dressed in his cut and worn jeans.

“Biker!” Indie bounds over to him and throws her arms around his neck, planting a noisy kiss on his lips. “I missed you today.”

His hands slide down her waist and across her arse, grabbing a handful and squeezing. My stomach knots. It’s been a long time since I shared that kind of intimacy with a man.

“Hey, no making out with the waitstaff.” Kimba smiles as she sets a cardboard cup on the counter and pushes it toward Kick.

I clear my throat. Kick glances over Indie’s shoulder at me. “How you doin’, darlin’?”

“I’m good. Ready to go meet this friend of yours.”

He walks Indie backward and takes the coffee from the counter, raising it in salute to our boss. “Thanks, sweetheart. I needed this after the fuckin’ day I’ve had.”

I wring my hands. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, it’s just Prez being an arsehole. You know how he is when he doesn’t get his own way.”

I smile, but it’s full of teeth and completely forced. Just the mention of his name drives a dagger through my heart. Indie punches her boyfriend in the arm.

“Bitch, what the fuck?”

“I told you not to mention him,” Indie says. “Death Before Decaf is a no-fly zone—as in completely, one hundred per cent Jett free.”

I shake my head. “It’s fine.”

“No. It’s not,” Indie complains. “He’s an arse, and Kick knows better.”

“Shit, Little Spitfire. Didn’t know you were gonna squeeze my balls in a vice for saying his fuckin’ name.”

“Well, I am.”

“Alright, I’m sorry. Raine, darlin’, please accept my humble-arse apology.” Kick smiles at me and then glares at his girlfriend. “Can I go now?”

“Yes. You can.”

I grab my purse and keys and then glance back at Kimba. “Are you sure you’re okay if I leave?”

She shoos me away. “I think we can hold down the fort for the afternoon. I’ll see you at home later.”

“See you tomorrow,” Indie says. “Oh, hey, don’t forget girls’ night next Friday after work. Ivy finally convinced Tank to babysit Dylan on his own, so we are going out.”

I swallow hard as guilt worms its way through my stomach. Jett ruined a little boy’s life. He shot his mother and father in front of him, and now the poor kid is living with strangers—playing son to a biker torturer and a recovering drug addict. It isn’t right, and I don’t know how yet, but I plan to fix it once I’m back on my feet.

“Okay.” I nod. “Sounds like fun.”