Page 86 of Long Road Home
“Katie,” drawled Jax, and I looked over the table at him. He was smiling. “I wouldn’t be opposed to naming a baby girl Katie.”
“Oh my God,” I said.
Jax tipped his head back and laughed that deep sexy laugh, and I couldn’t help but smile.
I wasn’t smiling when we entered the part of town one did not willing venture into forty minutes later. The street wasn’t very active, as it wasn’t even noon yet.
Jax found a parking spot in front of the worn-down brownstones across from a city park that looked like it belonged in a postapocalypse movie.
My gaze skipped over the boarded-up windows and doors on some of the units. “I’m not sure about this.”
“This is the last shit hole I want to bring you to, but the last I checked, you served me with a dose of attitude about this being your problem and shit.” He killed the engine and turned what was probably a very smug look on me. “So that’s why we’re here.”
He had a good point, but it wasn’t like I was going to admit to that. “Whatever.”
His lips twitched. “Stick close to me. Okay? And let me do the talking—no, don’t look at me like you just sucked on something sour. Let me do the talking. If you can’t agree to that, then we’re going to drive off, I’m going to lock you up with Clyde or Reece, and then I’ll come back here on my own.”
My eyes narrowed on him. “You don’t have to be so damn bossy.”
“Yes, I do.” He leaned forward and kissed the tip of my nose. It was quick, but it still startled me. When he pulled back, he was grinning. “Do you agree?”
I hesitated and then sighed. Wasn’t like I was Rambo and was going to run into the brownstones by myself, demanding to have them hand over my mother or else. “Oh, all right. Yes. I agree.”
Jax nodded and then he climbed out. I sat there for a second, said a little prayer, and then got out. I did stick close to him as we walked down the block and then headed up the crumbling set of steps to a brownstone that had two windows boarded up on the second floor.
“Mom used to come here?” I asked, folding my arms around my waist.
He nodded as he glanced down at me. “Yeah.”
Pressing my lips together, I knew I shouldn’t be surprised. Wasn’t like this was anything new, but seeing this and picturing my mom hanging out in a place like this just didn’t set well, no matter how many trailers I’d pulled her out of when I was a teenager.
Jax rapped his knuckles on the door. A few moments passed and when no one answered, I figured this was going to be a no go, but then Jax pounded his fist on it.
“Whoa,” I murmured, glancing around. “Do you think that’s a good idea?”
He ignored me as he leaned in. “Open up the door, Ritchey. I know you’re in there. Your piece-of-shit car is out front.”
My eyes widened as my stomach dipped.
There was a beat of silence and then the front door opened to a crack. I couldn’t see anyone, but I heard in a scratchy voice, “What the fuck do you want, Jackson?”
Um.
Jax placed his hand on the center of the faded red door. “We need to talk.”
“Talk” was the response.
“Not on the front doorstep of your damn house, Ritchey. Let us in.”
There was a pause. “Us?” Then the door opened to about a foot and a man’s head appeared. I took an involuntary step back from the sight of the unshaven face, bloodshot eyes, and bulbous nose covered in broken blood vessels. “Who the fuck are you?”
I recognized the man even though he stared at me like he’d never seen me before. Holy shit, there was no way I’d forget those watery eyes and nose. He used to come over to the house and party with Mom.
“Really none of your business, Ritchey, and I’m not here to make introductions,” Jax cut in, and his tone ... wow, it was all kinds of badass. I was actually staring up at him, kind of shocked. “Open the door.”
Ritchey didn’t open the door.
There was a low curse and then Jax moved. Planting his foot into the door, he pushed with his boot and hand. The door opened and Ritchey went wheeling backward.
