Jet’s eyes narrow suspiciously. “What’s the catch?”
Devil giggles, a sound that seems too carefree for this heavy room. “No catch. Just help me pick the stuff and carry it back. Yes?”
Before anyone can process that, Justice swings in, all swagger and smirks. “Ready, Devil?” he asks, his gaze locking on Jet.
“Are we?” Devil echoes, challenging.
Jet hesitates, then shakes her head slightly, but not in refusal. It’s more like she’s shaking off her doubts.
Justice leans in, his grin wicked. “Don’t tell me you’re scared,” he teases, and I can see the interest sparking in his eyes.
Jet straightens up, her spine steeling. She might be wounded, but she’s no damsel. “Never,” she fires back, and there’s a flash of the girl she must’ve been before all this.
And just like that, we’re a convoy of unlikely allies.
Devil leads the way, Justice at her side, and Jet sandwiched between them. I fall in behind, my heart hammering a rhythm of anticipation. Devil climbs into the driver’s seat of an SUV andJustice into the front passenger seat, which leaves the back seat for Jet and me and we drive.
The Walmart parking lot is a concrete sea of people rushing to and from the building’s entrance. Justice climbs out of the SUV and opens the door for Jet with a flourish.
“Ma’am,” he drawls as she gets out.
She frowns up at him, unimpressed. “You’re all about chivalry?”
“Sometimes,” Justice counters with a lazy grin, leaning against the frame. “Just being neighborly.”
“Neighborly?” She scoffs, a harsh laugh escaping her lips. “There’s no such thing.” She brushes past him.
“Oi!” Devil’s voice cuts through the tension like a whipcrack. “Eyes peeled, Justice. We’re not here for a bloody picnic.” She throws a pointed look my way. “In and out, yeah?”
“Got it, boss lady,” Justice mutters, but there’s a glint of respect in his eyes as he slams the door shut behind Jet.
We navigate inside the huge Walmart with Devil leading the way.
“Stay close,” I whisper to Jet, watching her survey the aisles like they’re enemy territory.
“Thought this was supposed to be safe,” she mutters back, even though her gaze keeps darting to the entrance where more of our guys have taken up posts.
“Appearances can be deceiving,” I say, but my words feel hollow.
How do I explain that these men, who look like they could cause a riot with a single word, are really here to protect us?
“Looks like a damn guard detail,” Jet observes, her tone edged with suspicion.
“Protection, not prison,” I assure her, but the skepticism in her eyes doesn’t fade.
It’s Devil who changes the tune, her laughter bouncing off theshelves. “Relax, love! They’re just making sure no one messes with our discount deals.” She snags a bright red cart and starts loading it with food like we’re stocking up for an apocalypse.
Jet watches, still bristling with wariness, but I can see the edges of her resolve softening. Maybe it’s how Devil cracks jokes with those around her or how she tosses a bag of cookies into the cart, declaring them essential for mental health.
“See,” I nudge Jet, gesturing at Devil’s easy demeanor. “Not all MCs run like the one you were in.”
She doesn’t respond but follows Devil’s whirlwind energy, her eyes slowly absorbing the scene. It’s when our brothers step aside for an Ol’ Lady, nodding with something like reverence, that I see the flicker of realization in Jet’s eyes.
“Maybe,” she concedes, the word almost lost beneath the store’s tinny music.
Devil pushes the cart at Justice. “Go on and start ringing this up. I’m taking the girls on a trip through the clothing aisles.”
“Devil, Creed will have my balls in a glass jar if anything happens to you.”
