Page 146 of California Wild

“Yeah,” Jesse muttered, jaw ticking. “Him.”

Isaac chuckled, slow and easy. “Well, don’t just stay home and let Irish guy Mack on your chick.”

Jesse gave him a flat look. “She doesn’t want drama.”

“Who said anything about drama?” Isaac pushed off the frame. “Let’s go. Black op style. In and out. No one even sees us. We gather some intel, maybe you get to see her sing, maybe you remind Irish bro who she belongs to.”

Jesse groaned. “Fuck. Isaac…”

Isaac just grinned. “You’re thinking about it.”

“I’m not trying to start a war.”

“You’re not,” Isaac said. “You’re just showing up.”

A long pause.

Jesse cracked his neck, exhaled hard, then muttered, “Fuuckkk. Fine. I’m showering. Give me ten.”

“Atta boy.”

Twenty minutes later… the sound of tires crunching gravel hit as Jesse stepped back into the living room, clean and sharp in jeans and a black t-shirt that hugged his frame just right. He ran a hand through his still-damp hair, grabbing his wallet and phone from the counter as headlights flashed across the window.

He opened the door to find Isaac already climbing into the passenger seat of Zach Reed’s black truck. The door was open, music thumping low from the stereo.

Zach leaned out the window, grinning. “Get in, lads. We’re going recon.”

Jesse slid into the back—and immediately spotted the three plastic shooter cups balanced in the center console, each brimming with something dark and mean-smelling.

Zach picked one up with a grin. “Pre-game.”

Isaac, without missing a beat: “Bro. Jesse doesn’t drink anymore. You know this.”

Zach blinked. “Oh shit. Right.”

Before anyone could react, Isaac downed all three, back to back, then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand like a Viking. “Handled.”

He turned around in his seat, sunglasses finally off, eyes sharp. “Let’s fucking go, boys.”

Jesse leaned back in the seat, heart kicking harder than it had in hours. Not from nerves.

From something else.

* * * * *

Jesse stuck to the back wall of Black Coast, hoodie pulled low, hat brim shadowing his eyes. The venue was packed, bodies shoulder to shoulder, the hum of anticipation thick as spilledbeer. It smelled like sweat and soundcheck, dim and smoky and loud. The kind of place where music lived in your chest more than your ears.

Isaac stood beside him, leaning casually against the wall, arms crossed, head bobbing slightly to the playlist still pumping through the speakers. Zach had disappeared somewhere deeper into the bar, already flirting with a pair of girls wearing heavy eyeliner and combat boots.

And Jesse… Jesse was trying not to let his heart pound out of his chest.

Dead Run Riot was being introduced.

He hadn’t seen her yet.

He’d heard the cheers rise like thunder, felt the thrum of bass through the soles of his boots, and then—

She stepped out under the lights.

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