Page 34 of Jax
My head jerked up just in time to see a motorcycle cut wrong through the paddock lane—too fast, weaving where no bike should’ve been. Some idiot not paying attention, or someone drunk on power and fuel. Either way, it tore straight toward the registration table. Straight toward her.
“Lark!”
She froze for a split second, clipboard clutched to her chest, eyes wide as the bike fishtailed closer. My heart dropped out of my chest.
I was already moving, my boots pounding against the pavement, every muscle firing on instinct. She stumbled back, barely avoiding the bumper of a parked car, the motorcycle missing her by inches as I grabbed her around the waist and yanked her against me. The wind from the bike as it tore past us blew her hair into my face, the stench of gas and scorched tire choking the air as the rider gunned it down the lane and disappeared before I could even clock a plate.
Fuck!
Lark’s breath hitched hard against my chest. Mine wasn’t much better. My arms locked around her as if I let go for even a second, the world would split wide open and take her with it.
“Holy shit,” I rasped against her hair. My heart hammered so violently it felt like it wanted out of my chest. “I could’ve lost you.”
She tilted her face up, still pale, her lips parted.
“I’m okay,” she whispered, but the tremor in her voice shredded me.
“No,” I bit out, my voice low and harsh. “You’re not. You almost died because I?—”
I stopped, my jaw clenched so tight I thought it might crack. But I couldn’t hold it back anymore. The truth had teeth, and it ripped out of me.
“I should’ve told you sooner.” My hand remained splayed across her back like I could anchor her to the earth. “The night I went digging into your file, I tripped an alarm. Not just the marshals—someone else was watching. Someone dangerous. We thought we had time to find them before they found you. But we must have missed something. They’re fucking here, Lark. They know where you are.”
Her breath caught, but she didn’t pull away. Didn’t shove at me or collapse. She just gripped the front of my cut, her fingers curling in tight, her knuckles white but her gaze steady when she looked up. “And that was?—”
“A fucking warning,” I snapped, fury at myself scorching every word. “Or an attempt that almost worked.” I shook my head. “No more chances. No more waiting to see if they move first. I’m not gambling with your life.”
She pressed closer, and although she was trembling, her voice stayed calm in a way that cut straight through me. “What happens now?”
Fuck, she was incredible. Soft and sweet, but so strong and brave. No one was gonna get anywhere near her.
“I take you back to the clubhouse, where you stay inside and no one can touch you. It’s locked down tighter than Fort Knox right now. You’ll stay there until I know every threat has been gutted.”
“You can’t just?—”
“I can,” I cut her off, rougher than I meant, but I couldn’t stop myself. “And I will. You’re mine, Lark. And I don’t give a fuck what it takes. I won’t let anyone get close enough to even break one of your nails again.”
She blinked at me, shaken but not broken, her eyes holding mine like she could stitch me back together when I felt like I was unraveling. The quiet strength in her was more poignant than any scream could’ve been.
Before either of us could say another word, boots hit pavement behind me. Kane’s voice cut through the chaos. “What the fuck happened?”
I turned, still keeping Lark tucked into my side, my hand protective and possessive on her hip. “She was almost run down. Some asshole cut through the pits on a bike. Missed her by inches.”
Kane’s eyes narrowed, scanning her, then me. He didn’t waste words on comfort. He read the room the way he always did—sharp and deadly calm. “Warning or an attempt?”
“Both, I’d guess. I’m not taking chances with her anymore. She stays inside the clubhouse until this is over.”
“Agreed. It’s why we got everything set up.” He studied me for a moment, then glanced at Lark once more before meeting my eyes. “Take her there. Stay with her. We’ll get word to you if you’re needed.”
Lark clung to me tighter, her face buried against my chest. My hand curled into her hair, every muscle still buzzing with the terror of almost losing her. But under it all, pride burned—because even trembling, she stood steady with me. She didn’t break.
And that strength—hers, raw and quiet—just made me fall harder.
14
JAX
The door slammed behind us hard enough to rattle the frame, the lock automatically clicking. My hands were already on her, pressing against her chest until her back hit the wall with a muffled thud. She gasped, eyes wide and lips parting, but she didn’t fight me. She clung instead—fingers curling into the front of my shirt, nails catching on cotton as if she needed something to hold on to. That tiny, involuntary grip burned straight into me.
