scruffy head was back in his line of vision. “Uh, Jax?”
“Yep?”
“Someone’s on the phone for you.”
His ears picked up something in Tag’s voice—something almost urgent, maybe even ominous. No one ever called them. No one who stirred up the kind of warning Tag’s voice held anyway. “Who is it?”
Tag’s throat worked, his Adam’s apple sliding up and down. His lips fell into a thin line as he jammed his hands into the pockets of his worn jeans.
A strange chill rolled along his spine. A warning chill. “Who the hell is it, Tag?”
“Reece. It’s Reece.”
The floor fell away from Jax’s feet in a tidal wave of his blood pounding in his ears and his heart dropping to his feet. Well, that explained why Tag’s voice sounded alarms in Jax’s head.
Fuck. Fuck, no.
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