Page 26 of Jett

RAINE

IENTER THE DARKENEDkitchen without turning on the light and hit the switch on the kettle. I can’t sleep—I haven’t slept since I woke to Jett’s presence in my room two days ago—and a chamomile tea sounds like heaven right now. I pull the jar of honey from the cupboard and try to remove the lid with one hand. It doesn’t budge. I take several deep breaths, set it on the counter, and fling it against the tiled wall with the back of my cast. It’s one of those thick, old-school jars from Country’s farm, so it doesn’t shatter, which just pisses me off.And now my hand hurts.

I scream at the wall, so tired of holding everything in. Tired of being too weak to stand up to Jett and Mia. Tired of not demanding more for myself. Tired of every day of this shitty life where one thing hits after the other and I can’t ever get ahead.

Tired.

That’s a good word to sum up my whole existence right now.

“You want some help with that, or you just gonna throw it at the wall some more?”

I jump, causing pain to pulse through my arm. Jett is sitting in the dark, nursing a drink—alcoholic, if the stench coming off him is any indication.

“What are you doing here?”

“Can’t a man enjoy the peace and quiet of his clubhouse kitchen in the middle of the night?”

“Sorry, I didn’t know you were ... I’ll leave.”

“Where you gonna go, sweetheart? To Grim’s bed?”

I glare at him. I’ve always had the greatest respect for Jett, but it’s all so clear now.

This man truly is an idiot.

I turn, and I’m about to leave when I decide I’ve had enough of being weak. “Do you even care?”

He smirks, and I hate him all the more for that bitter curl to his lip. “I care about a lot of things. You’ll have to be more specific.”

“Do you care that I had a gun held to my head? That I was almost raped? That I was chased and shot at, or that I was almost blown apart for your stupid club?” I shake my head.

He doesn’t respond, just sits there and sips his whiskey.

“You know what? I don’t even know why I’m here. I have nothing to do with this, and clearly I mean nothing to you and your precious club. Lockdown or no lockdown, I’m leaving in the morning.”

“You’re going nowhere, sweetheart. Not until I say you can leave.”

“I’m not one of your boys, Jett,” I say through my teeth. “And I’m not your fucking wife—who I’m convinced is the devil incarnate, by the way. Does she hate all the women in your life, or just me?”

“Just you, and I mean it, Angel. You walk out that door before this lockdown is done, and I’ll drag your sweet arse back in here and tie you to my fuckin’ bed.”

“That might be kind of crowded, considering your wife is already in it.”

“You’re not one of my boys, and you sure as shit ain’t my wife, but you’re my employee. And if you know what’s good for you, you’ll shut your fuckin’ mouth before I fire your arse.”

“You’re worse than Tung Lin. At least he didn’t pretend to have my best interests at heart when he forced me to go down on him.”

“What the fuck did you just say?” He stands, kicking his chair to the ground. His lips curl into a sneer. I see now why he makes such a savage and formidable enemy. I back up, but I have nowhere to go. For the first time since we met, I’m afraid of him.

Jett stalks forward, pressing his hands into the counter on either side of me. I’m trapped, penned, and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t get off on it. He smells like whiskey, leather, and longing, and although I don’t like him very much right now, I wish he’d close the distance between us. I wish that mouth would turn from a vicious snarl to a warm and inviting kiss.

“I care. I fuckin’ care too much. Is that what you want to hear, babe? You wanna know how fuckin’ sick I feel that he was there to protect you and I wasn’t? You know how much I wanna beat his fuckin’ head in right now? Because my club brother is holding your hand, sharin’ your bed, sliding between those pretty, milky thighs of yours, and I’m just itching to sink my blade into his chest for takin’ what’s mine. So you ask me again if I fuckin’ care.”

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