The atmosphere snapped around her, and she turned her head. Not that she needed to. His voice was unmistakable, as was his threatening tone. Jax. Of course.

Scowling, the Dom pivoted to face the taller and much more muscled Jax. In the years since she’d seen him, he’d gotten leaner. He wore his trademark black T-shirt and black boots, but tonight he’d switched out jeans for tailored black trousers.

Apparently he was not friends with a razor, and his hair was longer than she remembered. Willow twisted her fingers together to fight off the ridiculous urge to run them through his thick locks, maybe muss them to make him seem less formidable.

“She appears to be alone,” the Dom said.

“Ask her.” Jax shrugged.

Willow exhaled. They were having a ridiculous territorial battle, as if she was some sort of prize.

The bartender placed her drink on the remnants of the napkin. “Everything okay?”

She nodded a silent lie. Nothing about Jax was okay.

“The club code word is red,” he reminded her. “Use it and I’ll send both of these men home.” The bartender directed his gaze at the Dom then at Jax. “I’ll be right here.” He folded his arms and remained in place.

“What’s it going to be?” Jax asked, voice easy, apparently confident of her response.

He loved being the center of attention. And in the end, he would win. All he had to do was call her dad. Then the wrath of hell would descend. Worse, if he told her mother, the gentle Andrea would collapse in a pile of disappointment. After all, Willow was their only child. For the first ten years of their marriage, Brian and Andrea had tried to have children. She’d spent agonizing years not conceiving, and when she finally did, she endured two miscarriages. To say they’d do anything to protect Willow from the world was an understatement. She sighed. With a smile so fake her teeth ached, she turned toward Stefan. “I’m with him.”

“Good night, Stefan.” Using his impressive frame, Jax nudged the other man aside to take possession of the seat next to her.

“Sorry to have interrupted.” With a firm scowl in place, Stefan nodded.

“Give my regards to Leah.”

“Fuck you, Mills.”

It took several seconds for Stefan to walk off. Then the bartender gave her another pointed look. “I’m here until eleven if you need anything.”