“Jax.” She grabbed the back of his T-shirt and jerked him to a stop.
Pop.
He stared at the door, just three feet away, and ground his teeth. Rage steamed from his ears. Hold it together.
“I didn’t come to fight.”
She turned on the I-want-to-slide-around-in-the-sheets-with-you voice, and it pinched low in his gut. But not because he wanted to slide around in the sheets with her. He just wanted to slide around in the sheets with…someone. Some gorgeous, fun, sexy, no-strings woman.
Yep. That would happen. That would happen about the same time humans started inhabiting Mars.
“I came because…” Veronica continued, oblivious to his distress. Her hand slid up and down his arm. Instead of turning him on, it made his skin crawl. “I miss you. I was hoping we could—”
“Nope.” He pulled from her grasp and pushed out the door. “Not interested. At all. Ever again. Lock the door, V, and don’t come back.”
Jax’s hand tightened so hard on the duffle’s handles, his palm stung. He clenched his teeth until his jaw ached. At the truck, he yanked the passenger’s door open and tossed his duffle on the floorboard, then hoisted himself toward the seat with the help of a ceiling-mounted handle.
“What if I can get you the contract back?” Veronica asked.
Jax froze halfway into the cab.
His gaze met Wes’s. His coworker and friend hated Veronica. Had wanted that Bond movie as badly as Jax. No, he’d wanted it worse. For Wes, the movie was both a stuntman’s dream gig and a gold mine. And Wes, like all the other guys, needed the money.
Wes’s gray eyes narrowed, an impending storm ready to break. He laid a muscled forearm over the steering wheel, his tanned face tightening with tension.
“Murder’ll get you ten in California’s pen. Hit men always talk,” he said in a very low, very serious voice, but his brows rose marginally when he said, “But snuffing someone could come in handy on the résumé.” That stony gaze settled on Veronica again. If Jax didn’t know the man inside and out, he’d be nervous. “If she says what I think she’s going to say, I’m gonna—”
“They’re not happy with the group they contracted with,” she called across the space separating them.
“Fucking A.” Wes’s eyes positively glowed with hatred in the shadow of his ball cap brim as they darted toward Jax. “You’re not buying this—”
“Shut up, Wes,” Veronica said. “Jax, if you’ll consider hooking up with me again, I’ll talk to the director. I know I can get this turned around.”
Jax still stood on the running board, halfway into the cab. He was still staring at Wes, but his gaze blurred over his friend’s taut face.
She was using his dream like a carrot.
But his mind turned to his guys. Of how much work this would bring them. Of the boost it would give Renegades, a boost they would all benefit from for years to come.
He should swallow his pride.
“No, man,” Wes said. “I can see what you’re thinking. And, just…no.”
His gaze sharpened on Wes. “You guys need the work. I won’t go back to her. I’ll just string her along until we get the contract—”
“She fucked you once; she’ll do it again. And I guaran-goddamn-tee, if you do this, you won’t have a crew to staff the contract, because the rest of us will bail on your pussy ass.”
A whisper of relief eased Jax’s tension. He turned to face Veronica and all her bogus beauty—inside and out. “I’m not interested. Don’t come around again.”
He climbed into the truck, slammed the door, and closed his eyes until he could tell by feel that Wes was on the 405 Highway. Jax stared straight ahead at the taillights of the other cars, his gut tight with a combination of pent-up anger and self-disgust.
“We don’t need work that bad.” Wes pounded a fist against Jax’s shoulder with a grin. “Have some fucking pride, dude.”
Jax sat forward and shoved his arms into his jacket. “I’m so sick of this bullshit.”
“You could try fucking someone with a few morals for a change.” When Jax turned a frown on Wes, he held up a hand. “Just sayin’ the insanity angle doesn’t seem to be working for you. You’re not seeing it yourself, and it’s killing me to watch you, dude.”
“The what?”