Rain hammered the metal roof like it wanted in. Thunder rolled low and mean, shaking the windows. Lena didn’t knock—just pushed the side door open and stepped inside dripping. Water streamed off the black trench coat she’d worn again, pooling at her feet. Her hair clung dark and wild to her neck. The coat was soaked through, plastered to every curve, leaving nothing to the imagination—n*****s sharp points under thin fabric, the shadow between her thighs clear as day.
Jax was waiting.
He’d left the bay doors cracked so the storm sound filled the place. The air was thick, humid, steam rising off the concrete where rain leaked through old seams. The Mustang sat finished now—clean, waxed, engine purring perfect if anyone cared to start it. But no one was starting cars tonight.
He stood by t
