Jax’s POV
I was halfway to Layla, my mind still on the detective’s trap and the clock ticking toward midnight, when the front door blew open.
Not with a kick. With authority.
Three men. Suits that didn’t fit right, but badges on their belts that shone under the bar lights. Cops. But not city. County. The tall one in front had a face like a hatchet and eyes that scanned the room like he was pricing the furniture. He held up his shield.
“County Sheriff’s Department!”
The music died. The whole bar went dead quiet. All you could hear was the hum of the beer fridge.
Hatchet-face’s voice echoed. “We’re looking for Jaxon Slater. And we have a warrant for the arrest of Layla Evans for material witness and probable involvement in interstate trafficking.”
My blood turned to ice. Layla. They’
