Jax’s POV
The ride back from The Silver Saddle was a blur of cold rage. The picture from the sedan, the financial hit, Frank’s slippery lies—it was all a storm in my head. But the eye of that storm was what I saw just before I’d left.
From my bike, looking up at the station, I’d seen a silhouette in Layla’s window. Two figures. Close. Embracing. Her, and Tyler. It was just a shadow-play against the lit blinds, but my mind filled in the rest. A hug? A kiss? More?
The image burned behind my eyes the whole ride back.
I stormed into the station, my blood up. I needed to hit something. I went to my room, yanking off my cut, ready to throw it against the wall.
That’s when Tyler had the bright idea to show up. He knocked and pushed the door open with that cocky half-smile of his.
“Boss. He
