Page 15 of Jax (The Kansas City Reapers #3)

Stella

The kitchen smelled like cinnamon, coffee, and false security. Morning light streamed through the tall windows, as if the house was trying to whisper you’re safe here without making a sound. But I knew better. Safety was a story for children and fools. And I was neither.

I walked in slowly, hoodie sleeves covering my hands, hair loose around my face like I’d just rolled out of bed.

My feet dragged, and my yawn was real enough to sell the illusion.

It was a performance, down to the posture—shoulders tilted, spine slouched, body language designed to show a girl adjusting. Settling in. Complacent. Not a threat.

Maddy leaned over the island, laughing into her mug like the world hadn’t cracked in half beneath her just months ago.

Bellamy sat across from her, chin in one hand, with an unimpressed smirk carved in place.

They were trading insults like they were weapons and love at the same time; affection passed like knives, glinting.

I slid onto the stool beside Maddy, blinked through the fake fog of sleep, and muttered, “Is this what I have to look forward to every morning as long as I’m here? There is altogether too much joy for this early in the morning.”

Bellamy arched a brow. “You’re the one who decided to join the living.”

“Only physically,” I muttered, reaching for the mug Maddy slid across the counter.

The heat of it grounded me—steady, real.

I wrapped both hands around the ceramic and took a long sip, letting the bitter burn give me something to focus on besides the thrum of adrenaline still coiled low in my spine.

They went back to bickering, something about someone hogging the French press, and I let myself drift.

My eyes tracked the room casually. Doorways.

Sightlines. The hallway curving past the pantry toward the back staircase.

At least two cameras in here, probably feeding to Tech Boy.

The same man who hadn’t spoken to me once but watched like he already knew exactly where to strike if I flinched.

I kept my expression loose, casual. Smiled every time Bellamy glanced over, like I had nothing to hide. Like I wasn’t already mapping every inch of this house with each breath.

“I swear,” Maddy said, dragging her eyes toward the ceiling, “if Carrick doesn’t wake up and get his ass down here before lunch, I’m staging an intervention.”

Bellamy didn’t look up. “Fair warning, he sleeps naked. If you open that door, you’ll go blind.”

“I’ll take the risk.”

I snorted, just loud enough to pass as sleepy and amused. Normal.

Bellamy’s gaze flicked over, her smirk sharpening just enough to cut. “How’s your room? Anything missing? Secret microphones? Floorboards that creak in Morse code?”

I lifted a shoulder, all practiced ease. “No complaints. I mean… if I didn’t know better, I’d think I was safe. Like I belonged here.”

Maddy’s expression softened. “Maybe you do.”

“That’s how they get you,” I said, tapping my mug against the counter like a punchline. But my stomach twisted anyway. It wasn’t a joke.

I dropped my eyes. Let my lashes lower just enough to suggest vulnerability without truly showing it. Let the warmth of the moment carry me for one more breath before I tucked it back where it belonged.

I need them to think I’m adjusting. That I’ve accepted this. If Tech Boy’s watching, and he is, I need to look docile. Bored. Safe. Pretend long enough, and maybe they’ll stop looking.

The cinnamon roll Maddy pushed toward me was warm, sticky, and nearly perfect. I smiled again and ate it, mostly to placate her. It was damn good, though.

A couple of hours later, after receiving the official house tour from Maddy and then wandering around for a while, I heard the girl’s voices filtering in through my window from outside.

I glanced through the glass and saw them on their knees in a small flower garden I hadn’t noticed last night.

Mostly out of pure boredom, I decided to join them.

I put on some comfortable shoes and took off my hoodie, then exited the house through the back door.

The garden looked like something off a postcard as I walked up—too perfect, too still. The kind of place that begged you to relax, which made me trust it even less.

The sun was soft against my back as I approached the girls. Bellamy was kneeling in the dirt, her dark braid slung over one shoulder, fingers moving with a gentle precision I didn’t expect from her. Maddy sat cross-legged nearby, dirt on her cheek, humming under her breath as she dug another hole.

“Mind if I join you, ladies? I think I might bash my head against a wall if I have to sit alone inside any longer.”

“Sure!” Maddy said, still too chipper for my taste. “We’re just planting some new flowers in Rayden’s memorial garden.”

I lowered myself into the flowerbed beside them, the damp soil seeping cold through my jeans.

My hands accepted the spade when it was offered, but my eyes kept dragging back to the fence line, the breaks in the tree cover, the faint gleam of a camera lens.

The dirt grounded me. Something to push against when the rest of me itched for escape.

Flats of marigolds waited between us, bright and eager, too cheerful for how heavy my chest felt.

Bellamy brushed her hands on her knees and glanced over. “First days are the worst,” she said quietly. Not a question. More like an offering.

Maddie nodded, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Takes a while to figure out where you fit. Took me longer than I’d like to admit.”

I dug the spade into the soil, turning it over just to give my hands something to do. “I’m not really looking to fit,” I muttered.

They didn’t flinch. Maddy just gave me a small smile, the kind people wear when they remember exactly how that feels. I didn’t return it. Couldn’t. But for a moment, the silence between us felt less like a wall and more like a truce.

Bellamy pushed a handful of soil into place around the roots. “Rayden hated these. Said they smelled like gym socks.”

“Maybe that’s why you’re planting them,” Maddy said gently. “A little sibling revenge.”

That drew a smile from Bellamy, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. Mine drifted back to the tree line, just for a breath too long. “Do you guys ever go out?” I asked casually, eyes still on the shadows. “Or is this kind of… lockdown thing permanent?”

Bellamy didn’t look up, but Maddy stilled beside me. It was barely perceptible, a slight pause in movement, a breath held a beat too long.

“Why?” Bellamy asked.

I shrugged. “Just… curious about how tightly the guys keep this place locked down. I hate the idea of someone getting in again. If they took me once…”

There. The faintest shift. A thread of sympathy. Let them think it was fear driving the question. Let them think I needed reassurance.

Maddy softened. “We’ve gone out before. Supervised. Coordinated.”

Bellamy responded with blunt directness. “You planning a field trip?”

I smiled and placed a marigold into the dirt, arranging it neatly before I spoke. “Just trying to get a sense of the place. It’s easy to pretend you’re safe out here.”

“We are safe out here, safe as anyone can be who is hiding from the Dom Krovi,” Bellamy said, her voice carrying sincerity. “I ignored that once during my first few weeks here, and I found out the hard way that I should have listened, you know?”

The words hit harder than I wanted them to.

Not because they were wrong, but because they hit a little too close to what I was trying to talk around without giving away.

I shifted, tugging my hoodie sleeves down as if the movement could protect more than just my skin. “Sounds like you’ve been here a while.”

Maddy looked up, dirt-streaked and smiling. “Long enough to know the coffee’s good, the men are overprotective, and the bathroom’s always free at midnight.”

I laughed. Actually laughed. And it scared the hell out of me. Because for just one second, it felt good to sit in the sun, kneel in the dirt, and tease these girls who felt like they could be friends. It felt normal. Like the life I used to have, back before Violet was ripped out from under me.

And that was the danger. That was the real fucking trap.

I dug my fingers deeper into the soil, grounding myself with the cold, damp reality of it. I wasn’t here to bond. I was here to survive. But God help me… part of me didn’t want to move.

I spent another hour or so out with the girls, and I had to admit that I enjoyed the simple pleasure of doing something with my hands, even if I took every opportunity to scan the area, trying to figure out where the cameras might not be able to see.

Maddy and Bellamy seemed like polar opposites, but somehow they’d found a rhythm that worked for them.

And I could feel them adjusting to fold me into that rhythm.

A part of me longed to slip into the space they were creating for me.

After the job was done, I went into the kitchen to clean up and noticed movement on the back patio, along with the scent of grilling meat.

Seeing an opportunity to further ingratiate myself with the household, I washed my hands quickly, grabbed a couple of glasses, filled them with ice and lemonade from the fridge, and headed out back.

The sun-warmed patio stones met my feet as I exited the back door with the glasses in hand.

I felt domestic as hell, almost insultingly wholesome, even if it was just an act.

Sully was stretched out in a chair near the grill, sunglasses pushed up in his curls, a grin half-formed even while relaxed.

Deacon stood a few feet away, arms crossed as always, posture coiled tight enough to snap.

I held out the glasses. “Figured you two looked parched. Thought I’d play housewife for a minute.”

Sully accepted his with a low whistle. “Look at you, bringing refreshments. What’s next, an apron and a pie?”