Cason pulls onto the road that leads up to the Depot, and I look over to him with a raised brow. “You think I’d meet this asshole on his turf? No fucking way,” Cason answers my unspoken question without taking his eyes off the road. When he glances at me, I see the fire licking its way in his eyes, and I know without a doubt that he isn’t letting go of Fallon either. If this goes south, it’ll go south on our terms, in our house.
“It would be dumb if it wasn’t on your turf. He’d just call the cops—not that you don’t already own them too,” Narni pipes up from the backseat. I’d forgotten she was back there until now. She seems to be the observative type, watching in plain sight. Something about her doesn’t sit well with me.
Goose’s truck comes into view as we pull onto the track. Jordan is leaning against the side of the truck watching the road while Goose and Crank hang out on the tailgate, each with a beer in their hand.
I don’t wait for Cason put the car in park before I throw the door open. I vaguely hear him hiss as I practically jump out of the car, my fists ready to meet Jordan’s face.
Jordan straightens as I approach but I don’t stop until my hands are securely attached around the collar of the asshole’s shirt. I lift him up with ease. This lanky motherfucker . . .
“Where is she?” I shout as I slam him into the side of Goose’s truck. I’d worry about damaging the truck if I wasn’t about ready to drive Jordan’s head through it.
“What the fuck, man?” He grabs at my hands with wide eyes. He wasn’t expecting me to grab onto his shit. He doesn’t have a chance against me. Just the fact he wasn’t expecting this to happen is enough to put him at a serious disadvantage. He’s weak, and I’m here to show him just how weak he is.
“You gonna play it like that? Like you don’t know why the fuck I’m in your face?” My heart pounds in my chest as the rage starts to consume me. I’m seeing red, more so than ever before because it’s about Fallon. “You helped me search for her at that party, and you never said one damn word about being the last person to talk to her. I think it’s time you start fucking talking, or you won’t be so pretty when I’m done with you.”
Jordan looks to his buddies on the tailgate. They are watching but haven’t moved as they continue to sip on their beer. They won’t interfere; they are more loyal to me than this shitty punk who’s about to have his face pummeled in.
“What are you doing, man?” Cason asks Jordan from over my shoulder. “This isn’t a path you want to go down. You won’t win. Talking is the only way out.”
Jordan’s eyes narrow at Cason, and I can see the jealousy in them. Jealousy can make a man do stupid things, and Jordan obviously isn’t immune to it. Keeping his mouth shut and his lips pressed into a thin line is about as fucking stupid as he can get.
“Let’s try this again. Where. The. Fuck. Is. She.” With each word I slam him into the truck even harder. Tick, tick, tick. My control is almost gone.
“Fuck! Alright. Alright!” he hisses as he swallows down the pain he’s trying to hide from all the prying eyes. He isn’t hiding it well.
“I thought I saw Jade getting sick on the side of the barn that night. I told Fallon. I think she went to check on her.”
“Are you sure about that?” I say.
I grab his collar a little tighter so it squeezes his throat and makes it harder for him to breath, but not enough to keep him from being able to talk—yet. “I swear man, that’s all. After that I walked off with my girl. Then the next thing I knew, you were searching for her.”
“If that’s it, why didn’t you speak up that night?” I growl tightening his collar a little bit more.
“I didn’t think about it. Jade seemed fine, so I didn’t think it was a big deal.” His voice comes out scratchy and hoarse.
I slam into the truck once more, with even more force than before. “You didn’t think that I would need to know that you sent my girl outside? Are you fucking stupid?”
“I swear, man!” he manages to croak out.
“What about Marcus? Do you know where he is?” I ask.
“Marcus?” Jordan asks as he attempts to pull my hands away from his neck.
“Marcus Hennings. He’s been rolling with Jax,” I say with a tug on his collar.
“I don’t know a Marcus.” I squeeze even tighter. “I swear! I don’t fucking know him!”
Jordan’s face turns red, then purple. Sweat beads down his face. He reaches up to his neck, trying desperately to pry my hands away as he opens his mouth and tries unsuccessfully to gasp for air. I’ve wrapped his collar so tight that it’s cut off his airflow. But for good effect I tighten it even more, pulling it so tight I can see it digging into his skin.
“Jesse,” Cason warns. He knows I’m losing it. I think he’s here more to help keep me in check than anything else. To make sure I don’t go too far. And right now, watching this dude lie to my face, I’m so tempted. But for Fallon’s sake I’m going to need him alive.
I lean in close to Jordan’s ear and I growl, “If you’re fucking lying to me, if I find out you
