Jax’s POV
The abandoned warehouse on the edge of town smelled like rust and old oil. I leaned against my bike, arms crossed, watching the road. The sun was going down, painting the sky in shades of orange and purple. I had been waiting for twenty minutes.
Then I saw headlights. A car pulled up slow. It stopped fifty feet away. The engine cut off.
Lacey got out.
She wore jeans and a leather jacket. Her hair was pulled back. She looked different. Not like the party girl from the bar. This version of Lacey looked serious. Scared even.
She walked toward me slow, her hands visible. Smart girl. She knew I didn't trust her.
"Jax," she said when she got close.
"Lacey." My voice was flat. "You got five minutes."
She nodded. She looked at the ground, then back at me. "I know you want to kil
