Page 38

chapter

twenty-seven

By the time Jax finally worked up the energy to walk back to the bunkhouse, he found the others in the common area, unwinding after dinner.

River sprawled on the couch, one leg hooked over the back as he scrolled aimlessly through Netflix. Did the guy ever sit like a normal person?

Anson sat at the other end of the couch, a boot in his lap.

He worked a rag over the battered leather with the quiet focus of a man who treated leather like scripture.

It was the kind of mindless, repetitive task that kept your hands busy while your brain tried to sort through whatever mess it had been chewing on.

Bramble, the wolfhound, lay faithfully by his feet.

Ghost sat at the oak dining table, laptop open, fingers tapping a rhythm on the keys that suggested he was both bored and running three different programs at once.

X and Bear were shooting pool, although they had to work around King, who was standing on his hind legs with his front feet on the table as he watched the cue balls roll with avid interest. That shaggy beast really had no clue of his size.

Jonah was on kitchen duty this week, so he stood at the sink, scrubbing out a pot. As usual, he was the first to spot Jax. “Yo. There’s stew in the fridge. If you hurry, it’s probably still warm.”

Jax eyed the fridge dubiously. “Did Bear make it?”

Jonah chuckled. “No, I did.”

Bear straightened away from the pool table and grumbled. “I’m not that bad of a cook.”

The men gave a chorus of, “Yeah, you are.”

X leaned on his cue. “Your version of seasoning is to dump in a can of salt.”

“Salt’s a seasoning.”

Jax moved to the fridge and pulled out the container of stew.

It was thick and brown, with chunks of beef and vegetables, and he suddenly realized he was starving.

Even if Bear had made it, he’d still eat it.

He spooned some into a bowl and stuck it in the microwave, leaning against the counter as he waited. “Next week, put me on kitchen duty.”

Jonah looked up from the sink and grinned. “You’re volunteering?”

He lifted a shoulder. “I like to cook.”

“Whoa, wait.” River sat up and twisted around on the couch, suddenly interested. “You cook? Like, actually cook?”

“Yeah.” Jax pulled his bowl from the microwave and stirred it, steam rising from the surface. The smell hit him—rich and savory, with herbs that made his mouth water. “My grandmother taught me. She was Italian.”

“Called it,” X said, pointing his cue at him. “You’ve got that look.”

Jax raised an eyebrow. “I don’t look Italian.” The nordic genes on his father’s side of the family were too strong.

“No, the look of a man who knows his way around a proper sauce. Glad I’m not the only one now.” X grinned. “My abuela made me stand on a stool in her kitchen from the time I was five, teaching me to fold tamales.”

“Nonna Maria was the same,” Jax said, the name feeling strange on his tongue after so many years. “Had me in the kitchen with her before I could reach the counter. Made the best osso buco I’ve ever tasted.”

River groaned. “Please tell me she taught you the recipe.”

“Yeah, she did.”

“Can we put Jax on kitchen duty tomorrow?”

“Fuck you,” Jonah said good-naturedly. “I make a mean stew.”

“Yeah, it’s all you make.”

As they bickered, Jax carried his bowl to the table and sat across from Ghost, who glanced up from his laptop with mild interest. “You visit Echo?”

“Not yet.” He couldn’t deal with seeing her shut down again. Not tonight. He needed to get himself on a more even keel before approaching her again. He didn’t want his anxiety rubbing off on her.

He took a bite of the stew, and it was good. Jonah had a way of seasoning it that made you think of cool autumn days, football, and cozy Sunday dinners.

“So you gonna tell us what happened?” River asked, muting the TV. “With the pretty baker?”

Jax’s spoon paused halfway to his mouth. He’d been hoping they wouldn’t ask. “Nothing happened.”

“Well, that’s a damn shame. You need to get laid.”

Jax took another bite, buying time. The truth was complicated, and he wasn’t sure he understood it himself. One minute Nessie had been kissing him like she couldn’t get enough, the next she was running scared from a black SUV.

“She’s got problems,” he said finally. “The kind I don’t need to get mixed up in.”

Ghost’s fingers stopped their tapping. “What kind of problems?”

“Government kind.”

The room went quiet. Even the pool balls stopped clicking as X and Bear turned to listen.

“FBI?” X asked.

“Don’t know.”

“Could be Marshals,” River said. “Maybe she’s a fugitive.”

The thought curdled the stew in Jax’s stomach. “All I know is she saw an SUV with government plates and went white as a sheet.”

Ghost closed his laptop with a soft click. “Think she’s running from something?”

“Or someone.” He pushed a piece of carrot around his bowl. “Explains why she was so spooked the other night when she thought she was being watched.”

“I can find out,” Ghost said.

He was tempted for a second, but then shook his head. “No. She’d have told me if she wanted me to know.”

“So what are you gonna do?” Jonah asked.

Before Jax could answer, Boone stepped into the bunkhouse, the screen door slamming shut behind him, and conversation dropped off like a power outage. He didn’t bother with greetings. “Thorne. We got things to discuss.”

The stew suddenly lost its appeal. Jax set the bowl down on the counter with a soft thud. “What things?”

Boone crossed his arms. “We’re going to help clear your name.”

Jax stared, waiting for the punchline.

“We’re not letting Hank fucking Goodwin railroad another one of ours,” Boone said.

Another one?

That implied others had been run out of town by the sheriff.

Jax wanted to ask, but he also wasn’t sure he wanted to know the answer, so he kept his mouth shut and just nodded slowly. “I appreciate it, but you’re not changing the sheriff’s mind. He’s already decided?—”

“That’s the point,” Boone cut in. “He’s not interested in the truth. Never has been. His only goal is to make sure he wins next year’s election.”

“Which isn’t a sure thing,” Anson said in his quiet way. “Lotta folks that voted for him last time don’t like the way he’s doing things now. He needs something he can call a win, and if he can tarnish the Ridge’s reputation in the process, all the better.”

Jax looked at Anson in surprise. It was the most words he’d heard the guy speak at one time.

X sidled over to the fridge and grabbed a can of Coke.

He held it out in offering, and when Jax shook his head, cracked it for himself.

“We got skills, hermano . Might as well use ’em for something good.

Jonah’s got a sixth sense for people, and look at him, all cute and fluffy like a damn golden retriever puppy.

” He ruffled Jonah’s perfect hair, then gave his cheek a playful squeeze.

“Tell me that face doesn’t scream, ‘you can trust me with your social security number.’ Really, I’m surprised you weren’t a better criminal. ”

Jonah shoved him away. “You’re so full of bullshit.”

“Usually, but not about this. People just trust you, man.” He turned and pointed at River. “And River and I can talk our way into anything.”

“Partners in crime,” River said, and they bumped fists.

“Yup. Ghost’s got the data, Anson’s got the brain for putting it all together, and last but not least—Boone and Bear? They’re the muscle, bro. Straight-up nightmare fuel.”

Bear grumbled.

Boone just narrowed his eyes.

X nodded like they proved his point. “See? Scary as fuck. Pretty sure we got enough firepower between us to shake some answers loose.”

“We just need a lead,” Jonah added, ever the optimist.

“You heard Mr. Rogers. Let’s find us a lead.”

Jonah gave him the middle finger. “Don’t call me that.”

“If the sweater fits...”

“At least I don’t look like someone ordered Shemar Moore off Wish.”

A laugh escaped Jax’s throat before he could catch it. It felt rusty, like a hinge that hadn’t been used in years. The sound surprised him as much as everyone else.

“There we go,” X said, grinning. “Dude’s got a sense of humor after all.”

“Guys,” Boone said, tone flat. “Focus.”

“Right.” X finished his Coke and launched the can into the recycling bin. It rimmed the edge before going in. “Where were we? A lead. So… anyone here actually know Bailee Cooper?”

Nobody spoke.

“Knew her mom,” Boone said after a beat. “Shannon Cooper. She was a year ahead of me in school until she dropped out at 16 to have Bailee. She dragged the baby to a few parties until CPS stepped in and threatened to take the kid away.”

X raised a hand. “Whoa, back up. You, Boone Callahan, used to party?”

Boone’s face went granite. “The point is, the girl didn’t have a stable childhood.”

“Don’t dodge the question.” River leaned forward, eyes gleaming. “This is critical background information for the investigation. Young Boone, wild and free, keg stands and?—”

Boone gave them a flat stare that would have withered lesser men, but it didn’t faze River and X. They kept ribbing him as Jax felt the beginnings of a headache pound behind his eyes.

“Why are you all so willing to go to bat for me? We’re not friends.” He didn’t have friends anymore.

“Ouch,” River said. “Man, I thought we were besties.”

Anson set his boot down and met Jax’s gaze. “You’re one of us, and they fuck with one of us, they fuck with us all.”

“And we are friends,” River added. “You don’t have to like it. Just accept it.”

Jax said nothing, his throat suddenly too tight to speak.

Boone crossed to the battered whiteboard they used for a chore chart. He wiped it clean, scrawled BAILEE COOPER in block letters at the top, and started a list of the facts they knew beneath.

River grinned and opened his mouth to say something, but Boone pointed the marker at him.

“This doesn’t mean you’re getting out of chores, Beckett.”

“I’ll print off the list and tape it to the fridge,” Jonah said. “Just until we get the whiteboard back.”