Jax’s POV
Morning air at the clubhouse always smelled like two things. Coffee. And engine oil. I stood outside near the bikes with Grizz and Tyler while the sun came up over the Nevada desert. A few prospects were already working on one of the Harleys. Tools clanked on metal. Normal morning. But my head was busy.
Layla.
She had been acting strange lately. Not just one day. Months. Grizz lit a cigarette and leaned on his bike. “You look like you ain’t slept,” he said.
“I slept.”
“Bull,” Tyler muttered.
I rubbed the back of my neck.
“Just thinking.”
Tyler snorted. “That’s always dangerous.”
Grizz blew smoke into the air.
“This about Layla?”
I didn’t answer.
That was enough of an answer.
Grizz nodded slowly.
“Yeah. Thought so.”
Tyler crossed his arms.
“She been acting weird.”
