Jax moved to the fridge and pulled out the container of stew. It was thick and brown, with chunks of beef and vegetables, and he suddenly realized he was starving. Even if Bear had made it, he’d still eat it. He spooned some into a bowl and stuck it in the microwave, leaning against the counter as he waited. “Next week, put me on kitchen duty.”

Jonah looked up from the sink and grinned. “You’re volunteering?”

He lifted a shoulder. “I like to cook.”

“Whoa, wait.” River sat up and twisted around on the couch, suddenly interested. “You cook? Like, actually cook?”

“Yeah.” Jax pulled his bowl from the microwave and stirred it, steam rising from the surface. The smell hit him—rich and savory, with herbs that made his mouth water. “My grandmother taught me. She was Italian.”

“Called it,” X said, pointing his cue at him. “You’ve got that look.”

Jax raised an eyebrow. “I don’t look Italian.” The nordic genes on his father’s side of the family were too strong.

“No, the look of a man who knows his way around a proper sauce. Glad I’m not the only one now.” X grinned. “My abuelamade me stand on a stool in her kitchen from the time I was five, teaching me to fold tamales.”

“Nonna Maria was the same,” Jax said, the name feeling strange on his tongue after so many years. “Had me in the kitchen with her before I could reach the counter. Made the best osso buco I’ve ever tasted.”

River groaned. “Please tell me she taught you the recipe.”

“Yeah, she did.”

“Can we put Jax on kitchen duty tomorrow?”

“Fuck you,” Jonah said good-naturedly. “I make a mean stew.”

“Yeah, it’sallyou make.”

As they bickered, Jax carried his bowl to the table and sat across from Ghost, who glanced up from his laptop with mild interest. “You visit Echo?”

“Not yet.” He couldn’t deal with seeing her shut down again. Not tonight. He needed to get himself on a more even keel before approaching her again. He didn’t want his anxiety rubbing off on her.

He took a bite of the stew, and it was good. Jonah had a way of seasoning it that made you think of cool autumn days, football, and cozy Sunday dinners.

“So you gonna tell us what happened?” River asked, muting the TV. “With the pretty baker?”

Jax’s spoon paused halfway to his mouth. He’d been hoping they wouldn’t ask. “Nothing happened.”

“Well, that’s a damn shame. You need to get laid.”

Jax took another bite, buying time. The truth was complicated, and he wasn’t sure he understood it himself. One minute Nessie had been kissing him like she couldn’t get enough, the next she was running scared from a black SUV.

“She’s got problems,” he said finally. “The kind I don’t need to get mixed up in.”

Ghost’s fingers stopped their tapping. “What kind of problems?”

“Government kind.”

The room went quiet. Even the pool balls stopped clicking as X and Bear turned to listen.

“FBI?” X asked.

“Don’t know.”

“Could be Marshals,” River said. “Maybe she’s a fugitive.”

The thought curdled the stew in Jax’s stomach. “All I know is she saw an SUV with government plates and went white as a sheet.”

Ghost closed his laptop with a soft click. “Think she’s running from something?”