Jax’s POV
After our big blow-up, Layla avoided me for a whole day. Smart. My mood was black as engine oil. But then she came and found me. I was in the garage, cleaning a carburetor, trying to work the anger out of my hands.
She stood in the doorway, blocking the light. “I’ve been thinking,” she said. Her voice was calm. Too calm. “I’m going to work with my dad. Learn the books. Keep an eye on things.”
I put the rag down. “No, you’re not.”
“Yes,” she said, simple and flat. “I am. I’m tired of being on the outside. I’m tired of not knowing the rules before you use them to hit someone I love. So I’m getting in the loop.”
This was a new Layla. Not screaming. Not crying. Stating facts. It was worse. “It’s not a good idea,” I said, trying to keep my voice level. “That’s club business. It’
