Page 37

chapter

twenty-six

The drive out of town passed in silence. Boone kept the windows down, letting the air rush through the cab, which, thankfully, was also loud enough to curtail any attempts at conversation.

The mountains, slate blue, loomed sharper than before.

Jax could see the lines of every ridge, the fissures running down them like old scar tissue.

He watched the fences and grazing cattle streak by, the pastures going gold in the late afternoon light, and wondered if he’d ever feel completely whole again.

A strange mix of longing and relief washed over him as they approached the turnoff to Valor Ridge. Longing for what he’d left behind—Nessie’s soft lips, her warm brown eyes, the way she’d melted against him. Relief that he was returning to the one place where he actually knew the rules.

“You want to talk about it?” Boone asked as they turned onto the gravel road that led to the ranch.

Jax kept his eyes on the passing landscape. “Nothing to talk about.”

“Bullshit,” X said from the backseat. “You look like someone gutted you.”

The words hit too close to home. Jax’s chest felt hollow, like something vital had been scooped out and left behind in town. He flexed his fingers, still feeling the phantom softness of Nessie’s skin.

“I shouldn’t have kissed her,” he said, more to himself than the men in the truck with him.

River leaned forward. “She kiss you back?”

“Yeah.” The memory of her pressing against him, her fingers threading through his hair, sent heat rushing through his veins again.

“Then I don’t see the problem.”

The problem wasn’t the kiss. It was the way she’d acted afterwards, but he wasn’t about to tell River that.

Boone drove past the barn, kennels, and bunkhouse. He pulled into the circular drive in front of Walker’s house and cut the engine.

“Jax,” he said. “Walker wants you in his office. The rest of you, get to chores.”

X snorted, “Yes, Daddy,” but slid out of the truck and led the others away, leaving Jax alone for the short walk up the porch.

The house was what passed for fancy in rural Montana, a two-story beast built of stone and knotty pine, and a porch more expansive than some people’s houses. Jax knocked, even though the door was open.

“Come in,” Walker called.

The office was the first room on the left, with a set of double doors framing the pasture and mountains beyond.

The desk was old, its wood scarred by cigarette burns and coffee rings.

Picture frames decorated the walls, photos of Walker in uniform, Walker with a little girl on his shoulders, both laughing so hard that their faces were stretched wide.

There were pictures of Cowboy as a puppy and of Walker’s horse, Dust Devil, and so many other dogs, horses, and other animals, including General Mayhem and the goats, Rip and Ruckus.

And so many casual shots of the Ridge guys doing chores, working with the animals, or hanging out around a bonfire.

Jax recognized his bunkmates and Boone, but there were other faces in the mix he didn’t know.

Walker noticed him looking and nodded to the far wall. “Those are Valor Ridge’s graduates. At least the ones that aren’t still hanging around.”

He wandered over and studied the mug shots of men with gang and prison tats. They all looked like the kind of men nice people would cross the street to avoid, and they all had that same haunted quality he recognized in his own reflection.

“All found their way here broken,” Walker said. “All left whole. Or as close to whole as men like us get.”

Next to each mug shot was another casual photo of the same man. Some were with their families, some with their dogs or horses or bikes, but all of them looked like they’d found something worth living for. Something that gave them peace.

Jax tore his gaze away, not ready to hope for that kind of transformation for himself. He turned to face Walker, who was leaning against his desk, arms folded across his chest.

The guy looked older than he had three days ago, with more lines around his eyes, his shoulders carrying extra weight. The stress of having one of his men arrested, probably. The threat to everything he’d built here.

“I’m sorry,” Jax said, the words scraping his throat raw. “I know this isn’t what you wanted when you took me in.”

“Sit.” Walker gestured to the chair across from his desk and crossed to the battered Mr. Coffee on the sideboard.

He poured two mugs and passed one over, then wandered to the open French doors, propping an arm on the frame and watching the horses graze in the pasture beyond. “They treat you okay in there?”

“They didn’t beat me, if that’s what you’re asking.”

He grunted, unimpressed, and raised his mug to his mouth. “You need a shower, son.”

“I’m aware.” He didn’t know why Nessie had let him anywhere near her with the way he smelled right now. Not to mention kiss her.

The older man was quiet for a long moment, still watching the horses. Outside, Jax could hear the distant sound of cattle lowing and the rhythmic thunk of someone chopping wood.

Finally, Walker crossed back to his desk and settled into his chair. “Jax, never apologize to me for doing what’s right.”

Jax scowled into his mug. “Attacking a cop isn’t right.”

“Protecting a woman from a man who’d hurt her is.” Walker’s blue eyes were steady, certain. “I’ve seen Deputy Murdock’s handiwork before. He’s got a reputation for getting rough with women, especially ones who can’t fight back.”

Jesus. The thought of Murdock putting his hands on other women, using his badge to intimidate and hurt—it made his vision blur red around the edges.

“You did good, son.” Walker’s voice was quiet, but it carried the weight of absolute conviction. “I’m proud of you.”

Jax’s throat closed up. He couldn’t remember the last time anyone said they were proud of him. If ever. He’d certainly never heard it from his own father, and it meant the world to him that Walker said it now.

“Sheriff’s not done with you,” Walker continued after a beat. “Or with us. This was just the opening salvo.”

“I know.” Jax scrubbed a hand over his face. “I should leave. Find somewhere else to finish my parole. I’m bringing too much heat down on the Ridge.”

“Like hell you are.” That snap of command had probably sent soldiers scrambling to obey back in his special forces days. “You’re exactly where you belong. And anyone who says different can kiss my saddle-worn ass.”

Despite everything, Jax felt his mouth twitch toward a smile. “Yes, sir.”

“Good. Now, what’s really eating at you? Because it’s not the sheriff, and it’s not the jail time.”

Jax shifted in his chair, the leather creaking in protest. Walker saw too much, always had from the moment Jax had climbed into the truck with him outside the prison in California.

It was probably what made him so good at this job—reading broken men, seeing past their defenses to the wounds underneath.

He set down his coffee. “It’s complicated.”

“Most things worth having are.” Walker leaned back in his chair. “You talking about Nessie?”

Heat crawled up Jax’s neck. “How did you?—”

“Boone mentioned she came to get you from jail. And yet now you’re here, looking like a man who’s had something precious torn away from him.”

Jax’s hands clenched into fists on his thighs. The old man’s insight cut too close to the bone, laying bare the ache that had been gnawing at him since he’d walked away from Nessie’s bakery.

Walker studied him for a long moment. “You care about her.”

It wasn’t a question, but Jax answered anyway. “More than I should.”

“There’s no ‘should’ when it comes to caring about people. It just is or it isn’t,” Walker said and paused. “Folks in town are talking about you two.”

Jax looked down at the floorboards. “I’m not trying to cause trouble.”

“I know you’re not. But trouble tends to find men like us.”

Jax nodded, slow and stiff. “She’s just…” He trailed off, words catching on his tongue.

Walker didn’t push. Let the silence hang.

“I was married once,” he said at last when Jax didn’t finish his thought.

“Long time ago. She left the state when I went to prison and took my daughter. Said the worst thing about me wasn’t the violence.

It was the way I could vanish right in front of her.

Sit at the table, smile and nod, but not really be there. You know what I mean?”

“Yeah.”

“Nessie looks at you like my ex looked at me. Like she desperately wants to see you.”

Jax shifted in his seat, unsure what to say to that. Nessie already saw too much, and it scared the hell out of him. Could he let her see every ugly thing about him?

Walker softened a fraction. “I like her. Good head on her shoulders, works hard, loves her boy. But, son, you gotta be damn sure about her because, you’re right, she’s got problems you don’t want any part of.”

A beat passed in silence.

“So,” Walker added, “I’m asking what your intentions are regarding her.”

Jax looked at the wall of Valor Ridge graduates. Could he be like them and leave here whole?

Did he even want to leave here?

“I don’t know my intentions,” he said finally. “I just know I feel calm around her. She makes me feel… human. And I haven’t felt that way in a very long time.”

Walker watched him for a long beat, then nodded as if he’d gotten what he wanted. “Keep your nose clean. Don’t go into town unless you have to. Sheriff’s still looking for a reason.”

Jax stood, understanding he’d just been dismissed. “Yes, sir.”

“One more thing.”

He stopped in the doorway but didn’t turn. “Yeah?”

“I know you think you’re alone in this,” Walker said softly, “but you’re not. You ever need to talk, you know where to find me. “