Page 7 of Jaded Soul

“Did something happen?” he asks, tucking me further into his chest as he rests his chin on top of my head. I’m completely surrounded by his strength and warmth, and I’ve never felt safer in my entire life.

“I’m just paranoid,” I squeak out. I wrap my arms around Jett’s torso, clinging to him like a liferaft. Right now, that’s exactly what he is.

“Don’t do that,” he gently admonishes. “You don’t have to tell me everything. Just tell me something true. One little thing. One piece of your story.”

How can I deny this man anything when he’s holding me like this? And yet, what do I even say? I don’t want to burden him with my bullshit and I certainly don’t want to put him in danger.

“My father,” I start, my voice barely above a whisper. Jett freezes, every muscle in his body tense, poised for my next words. I’ve never had anyone’s complete attention like this before. “He… he joined some kind of gang recently. I don’t know. I’m not sure of the details, I just…”

“Take another breath for me, Rowan,” he murmurs. I do, feeling a little more steady.

“I saw something I shouldn’t have.”

Jett doesn’t say anything at first, he doesn’t even move a muscle. Finally, he loosens his hold on me and leans back slightly. “Thank you for trusting me,” he rasps, his voice full of emotion. He presses a sweet kiss to my forehead once more, then untangles himself from my embrace before taking my hand in his. “Now, let’s get you off to work,” he declares.

Two hours later, Jett is still sitting in his regular booth in the corner of the diner, watching me. His stare doesn’t creep me out, it makes me feel cared for and protected. Jett isn’t trying to intimidate or control me like I’ve experienced from my father and his friends in the past. No, with Jett, everything is different.

I didn't know men could be safe or kind until Jett came along. He's been taking care of me since day one when he left that generous tip and kept leaving tips to help me pay rent. We may have only recently started talking and sharing more, butJett has already shown me with his actions how trustworthy he is.

What are you saying? Don’t get caught up in some stupid fantasy. This won’t last.My brain is at war with my heart, one telling me to keep my distance while the other is begging me to give in.

I can feel Jett’s gaze on my back, making me smile. I can’t help it. My spine tingles and my heart races, the frantic pulse mirrored deep in my core. All of the doubts and fears I had slip right out of my head as I turn and lock eyes with Jett from across the diner.

God, his green eyes pierce me through and through. And when the corner of his lips curl into a slight grin, my knees nearly give out. With dark hair, emerald eyes, a strong jaw, along with his muscled and tatted body… how is a girl supposed to resist?

I make my way toward him, coffee pot in hand. I have to at least pretend to be doing my job even though all I want to do is slide into the booth with him and crawl into his lap. My cheeks heat at the thought of climbing Jett like the mountain of a man he is and asking for my first kiss.

“What are you thinking about, beautiful?” he asks, his eyes never leaving mine.

“You,” I answer honestly. His grin turns into a full-on smile, and oh my god, I think he’s blushing. How this man manages to be badass, sexy as hell, and adorable at the same time is beyond my comprehension.

Jett starts to say something, but I can hardly hear him over the familiar sound of the motorcycle from this morning. I watch, seemingly in slow motion as the man I recognize from back home turns the corner and rides in front of Gracie May’s.

I was right. They found me.

My world is hazy, all other sounds and sights fading into the background as I watch the man speed past the window. My worst fears are confirmed when I see the back of the leather jacket he’s wearing. An image of two pistols crossing over a flame with the wordsHell’s Scoundrelsscrawled around the outside flashes in front of me and I tremble from head to toe. Two more men from my past roar by the diner on their bikes in matching jackets.

“What the fuck?” Jett grits out, pulling my attention away for a split second. “What are those motherfuckers doing here?”

He knows them?

The next second, Jett stands up and strides toward the front door, yanking it open and storming over to the street as if he’s going to catch each person and strangle them with his bare hands. I’m torn between staring at Jett and looking down the road for more of them. Specifically, my father.

One last bike turns the corner and I hold my breath, relieved to see it’s not my dad. The good feeling doesn’t last long, however.

I furrow my brow in confusion as the man grabs something out of his pocket. He swerves into the other lane, heading straight toward the large diner window. Just when I think he’s about to drive right through the glass, he turns.

Half a second later, the window shatters.

I turn away from the horror scene unfolding in front of me, confused about what’s happening. Something hits me in the lower back, knocking me to the ground and siphoning all the air from my lungs. The pot of coffee I was holding falls to the floor with me, the hot liquid spraying all over the tile as the pot breaks into a thousand little pieces in my hand.

I stay huddled up on the ground, unsure of what to do or what’s going on. Adrenaline pumps through my veins as I try to acclimate to the world around me. People are shouting andcrying, the sound of glass crunching underfoot grating on my nerves.

“Rowan!” Jett shouts over the cacophony of chaos. “Rowan, where are you?” I push myself off the tile floor enough to sit up. “Jesus Christ, there you are,” he breathes out before kneeling in front of me.

“Jett,” I choke out through tears. “Wh-wh-what hap-p-pened?”

“Some fucker threw a goddamn rock through the window,” he grits out.

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