Page 44 of The Kings of Kearny

“Has he talked about any of his missions with you?” I asked.

She shook her head, sending her red curls flying. “He said he can’t for legal reasons. They were all classified.”

Another piece of the Jakob puzzle fell into place. In my experience, people who worked highly classified missions were a paranoid, secretive bunch. They kept to their own units, didn’t socialize with other soldiers, and lost touch with anyone they’d been friends with before they went into service. Because what could you say to outsiders? Can’t answer any questions about where you are or what you’re doing. Can’t talk about what you’re training for. It was much easier to stay silent than to lie, and if Jakob had been paranoid before enlisting, God only knew what eight years of classified missions had done to the guy.

“Give him time,” Jennifer said. “He’s a good man underneath that tough shell of his.”

“I’ll try,” I said, because I didn’t know what else to tell her.Sorry, I’m just using him for his bodywas a little too blunt, even for me, and I was beginning to realize it might not even be true anymore.

Twenty minutes later, Jakob and I were back on the road. The hunter-green Mustang we rode in was a classic with a big, throaty engine, and while it was both powerful and beautiful, I wished we’d taken my crappy car instead. We might have been recognized in it, but it had A/C, and that was starting to seem like a fair trade-off. In this part of Texas, the temperature usually topped out at ten degrees hotter than the surrounding low-lying towns. Not a cloud dotted the cornflower-blue sky today. The pavement radiated heat back up at us even as the sun scorched the hood of the car.

I piled my hair on top of my head in a messy bun and cranked my window down. Jakob lowered his too.

I turned to look at him. “Would it have killed you to mention yesterday that your grandmother had Alzheimer’s?”

He kept his gaze on the road. “Didn’t see the point.”

Ugh, men. “Gee, I don’t know, you could have saved me the breath at least.”

He glanced over at me, his eyes hidden behind his shades. “My grandmother didn’t know who we were the last two years of her life. I didn’t think you’d want the reminder of how bad it’s gonna get with your gran.”

I nearly gripped my chest. It felt like my heart just shuddered to a stop. Yes, it was going to get that bad with Gran, and there was nothing that I or anyone else could do to stop it. That fact gutted me every time I remembered it.

I watched Jakob’s profile as he turned back toward the road. “You’re right. That would have been hard to hear three seconds before saying hi to her, but you might have found another way to mention it without getting to that point.”

He shrugged one massive shoulder. “Maybe, or one question could have led to another, and we’d wind up there eventually. Plus you were already upset with me as it was.”

“I had good reason to be,” I reminded him.

“Not saying you didn’t. Just meant that I didn’t want to add heartbreak to my list of offenses.”

I turned away and looked out my window, contemplating his words. Did I like the way he’d handled it? No. Did I understand how someone with Jakob’s history might behave the way he had? Yes. We were already pissed at each other by the time we got to Gran’s. Instead of potentially ripping my heart out, he’d clammed up instead. In his own way, he’d been trying to protect me.

I kept my head turned away as I asked my next question. “In the future, can you try to find a way to say something in similar situations? I’d rather be upset in the moment than embarrassed after the fact.”

“I’ll try,” he said.

I had just alluded to there being a future between us, and he’d gone right along with it. God, what was I getting myself into?

We fell quiet as we passed from pastureland to cornfield. This spring, Texas had seen more rain than usual, and the swaying stalks were already tall enough that I couldn’t see over them. An echo of Jakob’s voice from earlier ghosted through my mind. “We’re coming in to get you.” From the sound of it, it would have taken an army to stop him.

He’d come for Gran and me, risking open confrontation with the Jokers, and by consequence, the Bandits. Last night, he’d done nothing to dispel the rumors about us. Afterward, he’d followed me home to make sure I was safe, apologized for being a jerk, and then kissed me like he wanted to consume me. Now when it seemed like a rival gang might be targeting me, he didn’t dump me in some shithole safe house but brought me home to his parents.

I could have been reading into things, but it was looking more and more like whatever was happening between us wasn’t just some casual thing for Jakob either.

Sweat beaded on my forehead. I draped my arm out the window and splayed my fingers, trying to angle some of the rushing air into the cab with us. I was hot and agitated. My fight with the guard had brought my blood up, and there was nothing like a brush with death to make you want to do something reckless.

I turned back to Jakob. He’d changed out of his leathers before we left, and now he wore a pair of dark jeans and a black T-shirt that clung to him like a second skin. His Kings jacket was in the back seat. I had no doubt that he would pull it on the second we got out of the car. Despite the way I’d taunted him about his need to always wear it, I was happy he’d brought it. If anyone tasked with watching me saw the Kings emblem stitched into the back of it, it might give them pause.

He made some subtle motion, and I looked him over. His left hand gripped the top of the steering wheel, bicep corded beneath the ink of his tattoos. If I decided to see where things went with him, one day soon, I was going to ask what each of his tattoos represented. He didn’t seem like the sort of man to slap just any symbology on his body.

I dropped my gaze. His right hand rested on the gear stick between us, ready to downshift as we approached the next hill. I fantasized about those long, dexterous fingers for a minute or two before lifting my focus back to his face. The sunglasses he wore had a classic shape to them, and with his hair slicked back like this, he looked like he could have been a fairer, bearded brother of James Dean.

“Enjoying the view?” he drawled. He’d felt me watching him.

“Yes,” I said, unashamed.

He glanced over at me. I stared into his shades for a second and then looked him over again, oh so slowly, so that there was no way he missed my interest.

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