Chapter 7 No.7

The door swung open.

Jax walked in first. He was lanky, covered in grease and tattoos, with a cigarette tucked behind his ear. Behind him was Tubby, a large man with a thick beard, holding a pink donut box.

They stopped dead when they saw Eva curled up in the chair.

Jax whistled low. A slow grin spread across his face. "Well, well. Who's the little bird?"

Eva shrank back into the leather, wishing she could disappear.

Hoyt stepped between them. He moved with a fluid, threatening grace, blocking their view of Eva completely.

"Back off, Jax," Hoyt warned.

Jax laughed, leaning to the side to get a better look. "Boss's Lady? Finally? Did hell freeze over?"

Tubby stepped forward, opening the box. "She looks hungry. Want a glazed, sweetheart?"

Hoyt slapped the donut box away. He didn't hit it hard, just enough to close the lid with a snap.

"She's not my lady," Hoyt said, his voice dropping an octave. "She's a client. And she's a kid."

"We fix bikes, Hoyt, not girls," Jax quipped.

Hoyt turned on him. His eyes were cold, dead things. "Enough."

The single word sucked the air out of the room. The playful atmosphere evaporated instantly. Jax's grin vanished. He knew that tone. That was the tone Hoyt used right before he broke someone's jaw.

"Alright, Boss," Jax muttered, holding up his hands in surrender. "My bad."

Hoyt turned back to Eva. His expression softened slightly, though his eyes remained alert.

"Ignore them," he said. He gestured for her to stand. "We're going across the street. Mrs. Rose should be prepping the stand by now."

Eva stood up. Her legs were trembling, partly from exhaustion, partly from the tension in the room.

Tubby leaned toward Jax and whispered, loud enough for Eva to hear, "Is she mute?"

Hoyt shot Tubby a look that could peel paint. Tubby clamped his mouth shut.

Hoyt placed a hand on the small of Eva's back-not touching, just hovering, a shield of heat. He guided her past the men. Eva could feel the protection radiating from him. He was a wall between her and the world.

They walked out of the shop and into the drizzle. The rain had slowed to a steady mist.

"He's whipped," Jax said as the door closed behind them.

"He's terrified," Skeeter, a mechanic who hadn't spoken a word from the corner, said quietly.

Outside, Hoyt led Eva to the crosswalk. He looked left, then right, checking the empty street with the intensity of a bodyguard clearing a kill zone.

"Walk," he commanded.

They crossed the street toward the small wooden structure on the corner. The sign read Mrs. Rose's Fresh Produce. A light was on inside.