Page 67 of Coming In Hot
Pharo shoots up, bristling with anger. “Yeah. Jax seems to think I’m guilty of something I’m almost positive I didn’t do. I’d like to know what the fuck his problem is.”
“How is this new?” Stiles complains.
“Well?” Pharo snaps, pushing me to react.
“Shut the fuck up and sit the fuck down.” I’m not doing this here with him.
“Jax,” Riggs prods. “Do you need to share?”
I’ve absolutely fucking have had it with this shit! “No, what I need is to get the fuck out of here.”
Grabbing my jacket, I shoot to my feet, but Pharo blocks me. He makes the unforgivable mistake of putting his hands on my chest to push me back.
“You’re not going anywhere until you tell me what I did.”
I freeze for a second, his hands on my chest like an electric shock, my heart pounding a little too loud in my ears. I want to shove him off, but something about the way he stares at me—eyes searching, determined—stops me.
I take a step back, pushing his hands away with a force that surprises both of us. My jaw clenches as I meet his gaze, trying to hold my ground, but the anger inside me is rising too fast to keep it contained.
“Don't ever lay a hand on me again,” I growl, my voice low and sharp, warning him without leaving room for argument.
Pharo doesn’t back off. “You’re not leaving until you explain why you’re acting like this. What the hell’s going on with you, Jax? I thought we were... better than this.”
Better than this? I’ll fucking kill him. My fists ball at my sides, the anger mixing with something else—a kind of vulnerability I’m not used to feeling, not when it comes to him.
“What did you think, huh?” I snap, voice tight. “That you could apologize, buy me a burger, cry your fucking eyes out on my couch, and take advantage of me, and then just turn around and walk the fuck out? Was I not supposed to care? Maybe you should’ve considered that before you shoved your dick in my mouth.”
The Bitches gasp, chatter running rampant. Too bad they didn’t bring popcorn for the free show they’re getting today.
“Walk out?” Pharo seems confused. “I asked you if you wanted me to stay, but you told me to leave. I’m not going anywhere, Jax. I’m right here.”
“Yeah, well, I’m out.” As I take a step forward, Pharo grabs my arm, pulling me back, and the rubber band that’s been binding my anger snaps. I curl my hand into a fist, pull it back, and strike out, nailing him square in his stupid, perfectly cut jaw. His head snaps back with the crunch, and the sound is the most satisfying thing I’ve heard all day.
“Fuck,” McCormick grumbles, “they broke the group rule of no fighting.”
“It’s been a long time coming,” Nash points out.
Nobody tries to stop me as I storm out.
CHAPTER23
JAX
I takethe bend going seventy, flirting with the possibility of skidding right off this mountain. The tires squeal as they grip the asphalt, the sharp scent of burnt rubber in the air. My heart races faster than the engine, adrenaline pulsing through my veins like a drug. Every inch of me is alive in the danger of it, the control slipping through my fingers like sand. But that’s the point, isn’t it?
It’s the chaos I crave, the risk. Because, in a way, it feels like it’s the only thing I can control right now.
The road twists up ahead, a sharp curve with no guardrails, just the drop-off of the mountain staring me down. I can almost hear my breath in my ears, a mix of thrill and fear that’s almost intoxicating.
The world is nothing but a blur of trees and jagged rock. It would be so easy to let go—let the world pull me into the abyss.
Behind me, the roar of another bike threatens to overtake me.
I know without having to turn around that it’s Pharo. His Triumph Rocket is a lot faster than my Indian. I push the bike faster, not giving him an inch. But I know it won’t be long before he’s right on top of me. He’s not going to let up. Neither of us will.
Can things get any worse?
Thunder cracks across the darkening sky, and the heavens open up with a downpour.
