Free Torn by A.F. Crowell Page A

hadn’t cut his hair the entire time we had been
apart. And don’t get me started on his
face. I’d seen Wookies with less facial hair. He kept the
beard, but agreed to trim it down.
    “Hey, Jax,” I hollered up the stairs from the
second-floor laundry room. “Can you bring the laundry down? I don’t
have enough for a full load.”
    “Yeah,” I heard him bellow down, followed by
his loud clompy boots coming down the stairs.
    “Any chance you might be able to turn your
shirts right side out before you throw them in the hamper?” I
glared as I turned yet another shirt before folding it. “I hate
laundry and this just slows me down and drags this shit out.
Because if not I’m folding inside out.”
    “Damn, you’re in a mood today,” he
muttered.
    “What?” I asked, whipping my head around to
his direction.
    “Nothin’.”
    “Sorry. I know I’m being a little moody.
These damn hormones. I feel like I have no control over my own body
sometimes.” Great, now I was crying.
    “Babe.” He pulled me to his chest. “It’s all
good.” He kissed my forehead then went downstairs.
    Ruger was lying in the hallway as I passed by
the nursery on my way down to the kitchen. “Come on, boy, let’s get
you outside.” It turned out to be a beautiful day. The sun was
shining and there was a nice breeze, making seventy degrees feel
more like sixty.
    When I came back in, Jaxon was waiting in the
kitchen, looking even hotter than usual with his new haircut and
less beard.
    “I’ve gotta run to the clubhouse and check
in. I’ll be back in a little while.” He kissed me lightly as I
watched Ruger flipping a deflated football around in the
backyard.
    “Be careful, please,” I whispered, almost
holding my breath. I had never worried about him leaving and not
coming back, until now.
    “Babe.” He gave me that look.
    “Jax.” I gave him my version of that look. “Don’t pretend you didn’t get shot three
weeks ago.”
    “Relax, babe, I’m just goin’ to the
clubhouse. I told you my cover’s intact, nothin’ to worry
about.”
    “I love you.”
    “Love ya too. See ya in a few hours.”

 
    Chapter Ten
    Jaxon
    I pulled out of the driveway on my bike for
the first time in three long, grueling weeks. Driving west toward
the clubhouse, I felt freer than I had in a long time. I loved
Leila to death, but being cooped up in the house with her hovering
over me almost drove me fuckin’ insane. Plus, being so close to
giving birth she was nesting or whatever they called it. She meant
well, and I could see she was worried about me. Fuck, the whole
situation was messed up and it scared her, but I still had a job to
do.
    Pulling off I-26 onto Cosgrove Avenue, I
stopped at a gas station and grabbed the burner cell hidden in my
bike.
    “Yo, it’s me. I’m on my way to the clubhouse.
Is everything in place?” I asked Tommy, my handler.
    “Everything is set up and ready to go. We
will wait on you to get there and give ya about fifteen minutes
before we hit the place. You’ll be detained just like everyone
else. I hope like hell you know what you’re doing, Jax.” His smooth
voice echoed doubt.
    “Just find Drill, he has to go down in this
bust. I’m starting to think he suspects someone within the club is
leaking information back to the cops.” I scanned the adjacent area.
“And that guy’s psycho so there’s no tellin’ what he might do.”
    Hanging up, I climbed back onto the all black
Fatboy. I slipped the phone back into the hiding spot within the
Shadow Rocket’s frame, revved her up a few times, and took off
toward the clubhouse.
    Once I parked and entered the bar area, I
sidled up to the bar and checked my watch. It was 4:23. Scanning
the room, I took a quick roll call in my head. Mark, Viper,
Barrett, Dig, Stretch, Rip, Axel, and Crazy Bart were all here, but
no Drill.
    Kat was behind the bar and practically purred
as she approached. “Remi, my love. Where have ya been? I heard you
got shot and then