Page 62 of Blue-Eyed Jacks
Four bikes pulled in almost simultaneously, and at least seven followed.There was a range of machines, from shiny to one that barely looked road-worthy.Every single rider wore face masks or full helmets.
The Destroyers Skull on their back was unmistakable.The sight of it made my legs shake.I’d only known that ugly logo in terror.I swallowed and stood my ground near the door.I was ready to bolt if needed, but if it was Shock, my running was done.I’d gladly step back into his deadly clutches if it meant Zoe was out there, free.A straggler driving a van joined the group, bringing the total up to twelve.The lead rider barely acknowledged the final member, opting instead to swiftly park the bike and,oh my God, pull out a gun.
He didn’t even bother to take off the mask or wait for the mohawked monster at his side.But I took a small comfort in not recognizing the soldier flanking the leader.Despite being almost as large as BamBam, he carried it differently.More in the shoulders and in raw power than a quarter ton of weight.And the leader was most definitely not Shock.He was too lean, too tall, and despite the ambiguity of not seeing his full face, I recognized that body and that walk.
I burst out of the station, motioning behind me to indicate to Zoe that it was him.
Jackson had come for her.I screeched to a halt, realizing that he might be angry with me.And that gun was dangerously visible.
“Is that her?”His Sergeant-at-Arms’ name tag read, “Bear.”He pulled off his riding goggles and scanned me from head to toe, but not in a lecherous manner, more like he was searching for threats, weapons, or anything that marked me as a danger to his president.I held out my hands.
“Jackson.”I could hardly meet his eyes.Those piercingly familiar eyes Zoe inherited narrowed.
“Where is she?”
I sucked in a breath and braced.I was a fool to think we meant anything to each other anymore.“Inside.”
To prove me wrong, the door at my back swung open, and Zoe raced past me too quick to catch.“Daddy!”She hit his chest and bounced as he stepped back, both arms out.
My heart hit the pavement.He wasn’t hugging her back.And in that brief moment, I wanted to grab that gun out of his hand and kill him.
“Bear, take this.”He held the weapon out stiffly.
Zoe’s arms dropped to her sides, and she took a step back to look at her father.“Dad?”
Jackson’s jaw worked, but no words came out.
I stepped in, ready to do battle for my baby.“Yes, Zoe.That’s him.”I put a hand on her shoulder and inserted myself firmly at her side, just in case I had to pick up the pieces.
His eyes met mine.“Kate,” he breathed.
It was as if someone had stolen his voice.“Hi.”I glanced nervously at the crowd of bikers and tightened my grip on Zoe’s shoulder.
An extremely tall biker with wild, curly hair stepped forward, leaning a little to examine Zoe and me.“She’s got your eyebrow, boss.”
Jackson’s backhand caught him in the gut.“Not the time, Sprout.”He acknowledged both of us with a tip of his head.“Zoe.”Then he blinked as if clearing his eyes.His now empty gun hand lifted, grasping at air.“I never…”He turned to me.“Kate?”The anguish on his face furrowed between his brows.“I told you—”
“I know.It wasn’t—” I caught myself, I wouldnotblame Zoe.“I’m sorry.”
He shook his head.“No.”The gesture became more forceful.“No.I’m the one who should be sorry.I never should have told you to stay away.”He swallowed.The movement drew my attention to his bare throat and the leather vest on his chest.The president’s patch mocked me.How?When?And the biggest question: how could I ever deal with this version of him?
“We need to move, Jackson.Get her and the kid somewhere safer.”
It was shocking to see a woman with them.She didn’t wear Destroyers colors, and it was her bike that was the ugliest one.But she certainly fit with these men.Something about the wary way she scanned the lot and the road beyond told me she was more than competent.And, I had to admit, she was much prettier than I could ever be.Her white-blond hair and perfect skin belonged on magazine covers, not in the middle of a biker gang.The gun in her hand fit, though.
“She’s right.My car’s right there.I can follow.”
Jackson held up a hand.“First things first, Zoe?”He motioned to her.
My daughter shook off my grip and stepped forward.She stopped barely a stride away and looked up at him.He tilted his head to search her face.
“You took an awful risk today.”
“I had to.”Her fingers curled into fists, but she didn’t break eye contact.
Jackson’s hand lifted.I cringed inside, worried this was going to be a nightmare.Instead, he held it inches from her face.
“May I?”Asking if he could touch.
