Page 38 of Honor ’N’ Duty

Smoke walked to the other man, then sniffed his size-thirteen-or-so boots. “Shake hands with Jamie.” The dog lifted its paw, holding it in the air until Jamie leaned down and shook it.

“Nice to meet ya, furball.” Jamie grinned, revealing a set of even white teeth that contrasted sharply with his olive skin and dark beard.

The man’s accent was either classic New Jersey á la The Sopranos or classic Long Island, an equally distinctive New York version. The man could be of Hispanic, Middle Eastern, or Italian descent. Whatever it was, any woman could see that beneath all that facial hair he was sinfully handsome.

When Smoke wagged his tail, Jamie crouched and stroked the dog’s head. A few sniffs later, and they must have become best buds because Smoke proceeded to lick every inch of Jamie’s face that he could find, mustache and beard notwithstanding.

Jamie sifted his hands through Smoke’s thick black coat. “Does he shed?”

Kade chuckled. “Yeah.”

“That’s a lotta hair. Damn.”

“Hey, there’s a lady present.” Kade gave a quick nod at Laia.

“So there is.” Jamie rose, then went to where Laia still stood at the bottom of the stairs. “My apologies. Jamie Pataglio, at your service.” He held out his hand.

“Oh, brother,” Kade muttered, subtly shaking his head. “Here we go.”

The second Laia slipped her hand into Jamie’s, he brought her fingers to his lips, kissing them gently.

“Always a pleasure to be in the presence of a beautiful woman.” He smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling, and yet, the smile never quite made it to his eyes.

“Okay, Romeo. You can let go of her hand now.”

He did, stepping back and bending at the waist and mimicking a formal bow. “You must be Laia. I’m sorry about your husband.”

“Thank you.”

He stepped back. “You probably don’t remember me. I attended his funeral.”

Jamie was right. But as she scrutinized his bearded face, she had a vague recollection of six giant men she didn’t recognize, first at the church, then at the cemetery. The memory was fleeting at this point, but what struck her was that whoever these men were, they had seemed to be there to support Kade, rallying around him as if they, too, were family.

“Must be the beard,” she said, also vaguely recalling that none of those men wore one.

“You might be right.” He stroked his very tan, very large hand down that devilish beard. “Time to shave it off, though. It’s too fu—” He broke off, again bowing slightly at the waist. “Pardon me. It’s too hot around here for comfort. So,” he added, turning to Kade, “you wanna fill me in?”

Kade’s eyes narrowed to slits. “Do you?”

Something silent passed between the men. Laia was unsure whether it was suspicion or a warning. She looked from Kade to Jamie then back to Kade in time to understand the true underlying message: Kade was worried about Jamie. The hard, unyielding expression on his face softened with obvious concern.

“Where’s Jax?” Kade asked.

Jax?

Roughly, Jamie shoved a hand through his hair. “Not here.”

Kade dropped a hand on his shoulder. “Do we need to talk?”

“No.” Jamie shook his head. “I’m dealing with it.”

“Is Jax…dead?”

Again, Jamie shook his head, more adamantly this time. “No. At least, I don’t think so.”

“Jesus,” Kade muttered.

Whoever Jax was he must be pretty important. To both of them.