Page 3 of My End (Iron Fiends #10)

Stretch

I didn’t know what the hell I was walking into.

Dinner, Jim had said. Six o’clock in the kitchen. Like I was supposed to just show up, sit down, and play house with a bunch of people who didn’t know I was here to rip the whole damn thing apart from the inside.

I ran a hand over my beard as I stepped out of my room and into the hallway.

The temperature dipped a couple degrees outside that concrete box they called a room.

Down there, it was utility over comfort—no frills and no distractions.

Upstairs, it was all rich-people glamour and hush-money silence.

The tile sparkled. The lights were recessed just right.

The artwork on the walls screamed modern money.

I kept my pace slow. Steady. Like I belonged here. Like I didn’t want to torch the whole damn mansion and take Boone and Gibbs with it.

I passed the formal dining room with the oversized table, ten-foot windows, and a centerpiece that probably cost more than a Harley.

I figured that’s where dinner would be. Maybe they’d have some goon deliver food on a silver tray while Boone sat at the head like some corporate kingpin who glared at me with those soulless eyes.

But instead, the low hum of conversation and the smell of garlic and red sauce led me down a hallway to a different room.

The kitchen.

Bright and open. Marble counters. Huge island in the center. Stainless steel everything. You could run a five-star restaurant out of here. Maybe they did.

A woman sat at the island with her back to me. Her long, light brown hair was tied up in a messy bun that was probably accidental but looked perfect. She had curves—soft and real—as if she were made for comfort.

On the other side of the island stood a guy in a black apron, who wiped his hands on a towel slung over his shoulder.

“Hey!” the guy shouted when he saw me. “You must be the new blood. Come on in!”

I hesitated at the doorway. “Uh, yeah.”

“What’s your name?” he asked and was already reaching for a plate.

I almost said Stretch. It hovered on the edge of my tongue. Familiar and automatic, but I caught it just in time. “Jake. Jake Style.”

“Jake!” he boomed like we were old friends. “So good to meet you! I’m Adam. My job is to keep you guys fed.”

The woman lifted her hand without turning around and pointed at Adam. “And girls, too.”

Adam chuckled. “Of course, Tilly. My main mission is to keep you fed when you go off on one of your artistic jaunts where all you can do is paint and think of nothing else.”

She laughed. “Those artistic jaunts pay my bills, Adam. If they stop, so does my bank account.”

“And that’s why I kept you fed.” He winked and then looked back at me. “Come sit, Jake. You must be working the overnight shift if they told you to be here at six. Have a seat.”

He motioned to the stool next to her.

I scratched the back of my neck. “I’m okay to eat here?”

Adam looked around the room, with his arms wide like he was about to break into song. “Would you rather I serve you on the veranda?” he joked.

I held up my hands and grinned. “No, no. I just didn’t know if I was in the right place.”

That’s when the woman turned around.

Green eyes. Bright. Curious. Framed by full lips and an expressive face that didn’t hide a single emotion.

She looked younger than I expected—late twenties, maybe—but she carried herself like she was older.

“You’re in the right place,” she said. Her smile was easy.

“Adam just likes to pull people’s legs.”

Adam pointed a spatula at her. “Now she is the one who’s in the wrong place. Boone would lose it if he knew you were down here eating with the help.”

Tilly rolled her eyes and turned back in her seat. “Boone needs to take a chill pill. What’s the point of you setting that huge-ass table for just me?” She popped a grape tomato into her mouth. “I’m more than okay eating my meals at the kitchen island with you keeping me entertained.”

Adam tipped an imaginary hat. “I aim to please, doll. Though I might have to ask Boone for a raise since I’m not only the chef but the entertainment.”

Tilly raised her fist in the air like a rebel. “Screw the man!”

That made me blink.

She didn’t act like someone terrified of Boone. Didn’t talk like someone waiting for a man to come downstairs and lord his power over her. She was comfortable here. Confident.

Which made it weird.

If Boone was so possessive and protective, why would he let his girl hang out in the kitchen with the staff?

I slid onto the stool next to her and tried not to read too much into it.

“You’re in for a treat with Adam’s cooking,” she said, wiped her mouth with a napkin, and set it on her empty plate. “Hopefully, he’ll make his smash burgers soon.”

“I’m always up for a burger,” I said.

Adam groaned. “That’s the fourth time you’ve mentioned smash burgers in two days, Tilly.”

“Just saying,” she teased.

“I got the message loud and clear. They’re on the menu for Saturday night.”

Tilly pumped her fist again. “Hell yeah.”

“Did you start your next painting?” Adam asked and flipped a skillet behind the island.

Tilly shrugged. “Yeah, but I’m not really feeling it. It will likely go in my pile for later.”

Adam chuckled and turned back to the stove. He moved like someone who knew exactly where everything was without looking. He grabbed a plate and started piling food onto it. Pasta. Red sauce. Sausage. Cheese. A slice of garlic bread that looked like it belonged in a food magazine.

“Uh, I can get my own plate,” I said. “You don’t need to wait on me.”

Adam didn’t even pause. “Yeah, I do. For my own sanity. So you don’t just slop the food I’ve worked on for the past few hours onto a plate like cafeteria gloop.”

Tilly laughed. “Adam doesn’t let anyone make their own plate.”

Adam grabbed her plate and turned toward the sink. “It’s better this way.”

He set the food in front of me, and my mouth practically watered.

Penne in a rich red sauce, thick cuts of sausage glistening with garlic and oil, and a sprinkle of cheese that melted just enough to look intentional. The garlic bread had a golden crisp on top and a buttery sheen underneath.

“Yeah,” I muttered and picked up my fork. “This wouldn’t have looked this good if I’d done it myself.”

“You eat with your eyes first,” Adam said, and rinsed a bowl. “Gotta make it look good before it tastes good.”

I took a bite. And yeah, it was good. Like restaurant-grade, top-shelf, forget-what-you’re-mad-about good.

Tilly watched me. Her green eyes flicked to my mouth, then back up.

“You good?” I asked.

She smiled and nodded. “I’m good. It was nice meeting you, Jake. I’m sure I’ll be seeing you around.”

She pushed back her stool, stood, and thanked Adam with a quick hug before disappearing down the hallway.

I watched her go, and the sway of her hips pulled my focus even when I tried not to let it.

Gorgeous.

And definitely with Boone.

Which made things complicated as hell.

“So,” Adam said as he rinsed dishes, “how’s the food?”

I wiped my mouth and nodded. “Really good.”

He grinned. “Good to hear. I don’t usually get feedback from the guys unless I screw something up.”

I let the conversation drift for a while.

Nothing important—just the kind of talk people did when they didn’t know each other well.

I wanted to ask more about who stayed where, how often Boone and Gibbs came and went, but I couldn’t push.

Not yet. Not when my whole existence here was balanced on a knife’s edge.

I was halfway through my plate when Jim walked in, and his boots tapped against the tile like a goddamn drumbeat.

“Getting settled in?” he asked.

I swallowed and nodded. “Yeah.”

“Good,” he said. “You’ll be on the night shift for a few days.”

“Copy that.” Not what I wanted, but I would make do with whatever.

“It should be quiet. Just do rounds around the property and keep an eye on the cameras. Billy and Jeff will be at the gate.”

“Anything else I should know?”

Jim shook his head. “Nope. Just shoot first and ask questions later.”

I raised an eyebrow but didn’t argue. Not the kind of directive you’d expect from a guy working for the US Attorney General. But this wasn’t exactly a normal household.

“Be to the control room by nine.”

“Got it.”

He left, and I took another bite. The food still tasted good, but my stomach felt tighter now.

“You like working here?” I asked Adam.

He shrugged. “It’s a job. Nice to have on my resume that I worked for the US Attorney General.”

I nodded and bit back a smirk. “Yeah. That’d be something to shine up a resume.” Not that I had one. My resume was tattoos, club scars, and a name given to me by my brothers.

I finished the last bite and took the plate to the sink. “Thanks for dinner.”

Adam nodded as he dried another dish. “Breakfast will be ready when you get off shift.”

“If it’s as good as dinner was, I’ll be here.”

I left the kitchen and headed back toward my room.

I walked slow to memorize the turns. Hallways. Exits. Cameras. I had two hours before I needed to be in the control room, so I did a bit of a walk around before I headed back downstairs.

Back in my room, I kicked off my boots, stretched out on the bed, and stared at the ceiling.

That woman, Tilly.

There was something about her. Something that didn’t fit with the rest of this place.

But I couldn’t let that distract me.

I set an alarm on my phone for 8:45.

Then I closed my eyes and let sleep pull me under.