Chapter 6: The Unlocked Door
The front door of our rental house was unlocked, a detail that immediately made Jax stop dead in his tracks on the top wooden step. His large hand reached out, stopping me with a gentle but firm push against my chest. He pressed his ear against the scarred wooden panel, listening to the muffled hum of the refrigerator inside and the faint ticking of the clock in the kitchen. When he turned the brass knob, the latch gave way with a soft click, and the door swung inward on dry hinges to reveal a quiet, dim hallway that smelled faintly of lemon cleaner and old paper.
“Stay right behind my left shoulder, Leo,” Jax whispered, his voice dropping into a low, gravelly register that left no room for argument. He stepped inside first, his heavy boots clicking rhythmically on the linoleum floor, his eyes scanning every dark corner of the living room. The couch was neatly made, the television was off, and a single half-empty glass of water sat on the wooden coffee table next to a stack of library books. Everything looked entirely normal, yet the absence of my mother’s presence hung over the quiet rooms like a thick, damp fog.
We walked cautiously toward the kitchen at the back of the house, where the morning sun cut sharp diagonal lines across the worn floorboards. On the small laminate table, right where I usually ate my cereal, lay a folded piece of yellow legal pad paper with my name scrawled across it in mom’s hurried handwriting. Jax picked it up with calloused fingertips, his eyes moving rapidly across the lines as he read the words that explained why she had gone out into the town without telling me.
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She had gone to see a man named Henderson at the county records office—a man who held the old property liens and debt collection files that had been hanging over our heads for months. The note explained that Henderson had threatened to foreclose on our lease immediately unless she brought him the cash she had somehow managed to squirrel away in the cookie jar. Jax’s jaw tightened so hard I could see the muscle twitch beneath his thick, dark beard. He folded the paper carefully and slipped it into the breast pocket of his leather vest.
“Henderson,” Jax muttered, more to himself than to me, his tone dark and dangerous as the reality of the situation began to settle into his broad shoulders. He looked down at me, his hazel eyes softening just a fraction beneath his heavy brows. “Your mom went walking right into a trap, kid. But we’re going to pull her right back out of it.”
