Page 5 of Jax

“Get moving,” he commanded.

“Bastard,” I grumbled, catching my balance as I began walking across the concrete car lot.

On my approach, I saw Mint lean into the cabin of the old blue truck, point into the parking lot, and then signal to Pipe to open the gate. He stepped back as the truck started up, making any brother that knew anything about cars (which were most of them) wince as it screeched into Black Angel territory.

The parking lot was big enough for at most twenty cars when it was empty, ten if our bikes were parked along the front like they were today. A 60s Chevrolet flat-bedded truck and bumper-pull horse trailer attached to the back caught everybody’s attention.

Mint, the second person least likely to give a shit about a woman asking after me, walked up as the truck pulled into one of the bays at the furthest end. “Said she’s here for you,” he relayed, his voice just as annoyed as Wolf’s was.

As I ambled over to the parked truck, looking over the unmarked horse trailer, I searched back through my past seven years’ worth of memories at the club, wondering what kind of woman it could be.

If I were being honest, it was difficult to tell one woman from the other. But out of all the women I could think of, none of them would have any reason to have a horse trailer tied to the back of her truck.

My curiosity grew, and my heart jumped at the sound of the truck door creaking open. I expected the whole thing to just fall off as the girl stepped out.

Brown hair, tight ass, and long, long legs. They had my dick perking back up in my jeans for the first time since I left my room, and I was left wondering what treasure I had lured in. She wasn’t exactly my usual type, coveting girls with fuckable tits and blonde hair. Every guy made an exception every now and then and looking at her athletic body made me ready to make that exception—possibly the second time, if between her legs was really where she knew me from.

Her long hair caught the breeze, and although it wasn’t silky soft and seemed to have more sun damage from being outside in hot weather, it looked well-cared for and healthy. If her tanned hips told me anything—from under the shirt that seemed to have risen while driving—she spent a great deal of time outdoors. Tugging it back down as she turned around, I almost sighed in disappointment as the plaid shirt covered my gazing eyes, then I noticed the tight jeans that hugged those long thighs. Damn, if her legs were that nice, then her chest must be….

Not as big as I expected. It was on the smaller side, but they looked like a nice handful, nonetheless. Maybe having a squeeze of them would make me remember.

A glimpse of light caught my eyes as I spotted the jewelry around her neck. I didn’t realize what it was at first. A circle? A letter?

It was a horseshoe.

A silver horseshoe.

I stopped dead it my tracks. I recognized that necklace.

My mind froze, eyes pinned to that little piece of silver resting on the dip of her collarbone.

I couldn’t think.

No, I didn’t want to think.

I knew who that shoe belonged to. I looked up, hoping I was wrong. It couldn’t be her. Never her.

I was stunned. Staring at the face I recognized, the face that mirrored my stunned recognition.

It was her.

“Ronnie?”

She staggered as our eyes met, the sound of her boots shuffling back and her dark green eyes becoming ringed with pure white surprise. “Jackson?”

She said that name on a breath of what could only have been a mix of relief and surprise. I almost hadn’t recognized the voice. Didn’t recognize her.

She changed. The new curves, boobs, and the extra inches of leg had thrown me, and it had thrown me hard. The understated way she was dressed, in well-cared for jeans and the plaid shirt newly tucked into her waist band despite the heat. The material that clung to her chest pronounced the handful breasts I’d taken notice of earlier. But it was her face that had changed the most. The soft curved edges that had once defined her youth were now lost to a sharper, defined structure.

Her red-flushed cheeks carrying her familiar green eyes studied every inch of me; she was taking me in too.

I must have changed a lot in her eyes since the last time we met.

But my opinion of her hadn’t.

“Leave.”

The word was filled with rage. It rode on a wave of pure hot lava up my throat, as if the volcano of emotions that had been dormant for eight long years was now alive again, and thundered destruction in its wake. “Get back in your truck and get the fuck off of my compound and out of my town.”

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