Strays

Honesty

*Continued From Last Chapter*

Chapter Eleven

Tully

First thing I clock walking Jax out is my Juicy's got himself a visitor.
A familiar one.
My woman.

I wasn't CC'd on this little reunion, which means she gave Leland the slip again. Slippery little thing. Should irritate me, but honestly? I'm just relieved she didn't head back to Charming. That would've been a war starter.

I lean against the doorway, watching. The glass between us can't muffle the tension bleeding off the two of them. Neither of them looks happy. She's got that hollow, brittle look in her eyes — like one wrong word might shatter her. And him? He looks the same. Defeated.

I don't like it. Not one damn bit.

The more I watch, the clearer it gets: they both need me.
She needs me to open her eyes to the damage her so-called family's done.
He needs me to give him the thing he's never had — belonging.
Call me a romantic, but I can give them both that. All of it.

Then it happens.

She leans in and hugs him.

It's innocent, nothing romantic, but my body doesn't care about context. Heat curls low in my gut.
I close my eyes, just for a second — just long enough to let my brain feed me an image of the two of them tangled up together, breathless and desperate. My cock twitches. Fuck.

I open my eyes before it gets dangerous.

Phil — one of my guards on the payroll — cuffs Juice and leads him back down the hall, and I snap back to reality. My gaze slides to Jaycee, watching her stand there with that wounded softness, and then to Johnny-boy, my CO escort.

I jerk my chin toward her. "One more meeting."

Johnny smirks, already knowing where this is going. "That'll cost you double."

"Done," I say without hesitation. My voice stays flat, calm, but there's steel under it.
"Now hurry," I add, watching Jaycee start to turn toward the exit. "Before she walks out of my fucking sight."

...

The moment she's escorted into what I like to call my "office," everything else fades. The guards, the concrete walls, the stale smell of steel and bleach — none of it exists. It's just her.

And the look in her eyes wrecks me. Wide, glassy, skittish like she's bracing for impact. Fear.
At me.

I fucking hate it.

"I know you're pissed," she blurts out before I can even breathe. Her voice cracks around the edges. "I just... I had to see him."

I shake my head slow, soft, making sure my voice matches. "I'm not mad, Peaches." I lean forward on my knees, elbows braced, grounding her with my stare. "But you gotta understand something... Leland ain't just there to lurk in your shadow. He's paid to protect you. Paid well. All you had to do was tell him to bring you up here."

"I'm sorry." She says it small — too small — like she expects me to grab her, shake her, punish her.

It makes something ugly coil in my chest. Not at her. At them. At whatever's made her believe she has to flinch when she looks at me.

"C'mere," I murmur, low and steady, holding my arms open.

For a split second, she hesitates. Then she crosses the room, all quiet steps and lowered lashes, and settles into my lap like she belongs there — like she always has. I wrap my arms around her waist, one hand splayed across her spine, and pull her in until I can bury my nose in the curve of her neck.