Chapter 3: Unwanted Company
The heavy scent of rain and cheap tobacco rolled into the diner as the three rival bikers fanned out across the linoleum floor.
The lead man, a scarred brute with a golden snake tattooed across his neck known as Reaper, flashed a yellow-toothed grin that didn't reach his dead eyes.
"Well, well, well," Reaper drawled, his voice cutting through the ambient noise of the diner like a rusted blade. "Look what the desert dragged in. Old Jax, playing babysitter."
Martha instinctively stepped backward, grabbing the heavy wooden telephone sitting behind the register.
"Don't you dare touch that phone, honey," the second biker muttered, resting his hand casually over the grip of a hunting knife sheathed at his belt.
Jax didn't flinch. He slowly stepped in front of Leo, his massive frame completely shielding the boy from view.
The tattoos on Jax's arms rippled as he clenched his fists, the knuckles scarred and white.
"This ain't your business, Reaper," Jax said, his voice cold and steady, hiding the sudden spike of adrenaline pumping through his veins. "Take your trash outside."
Reaper chuckled, stepping closer until he was standing just inches from Jax, the two hardened men towering over everyone else in the room.
"Everything you touch becomes my business, brother," Reaper whispered venomously, his gaze darting past Jax’s shoulder to catch a glimpse of the small boy. "Especially when you're digging up ghosts you swore to leave buried."
Leo peeked out from behind Jax's leather vest, his hazel eyes wide with a mixture of fear and defiance.
"Leave him out of this," Jax warned, taking half a step forward, closing the distance between them.
"Cute kid," Reaper sneered, reaching out a greasy hand as if to grab Leo's chin.
In a blur of motion, Jax caught Reaper's wrist in a crushing grip, twisting it just enough to elicit a sharp grunt of pain from the larger man.
The diner tension snapped like a dry twig.
Martha screamed, ducking behind the counter as the second biker unholstered a heavy iron pipe, stepping up to back up his leader.
"You're making a massive mistake, Jax," Reaper hissed through gritted teeth, his face contorting in agony as Jax's grip tightened further.
"I've made a lot of mistakes," Jax replied, his face devoid of fear, his eyes burning with a dark, protective fire. "Adding you to the list won't change a damn thing."
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Jax shoved Reaper backward, sending him crashing into a vinyl booth, shattering the table.
"Run, Leo," Jax commanded without looking back. "Out the back kitchen door, now."
