by Shandi Boyes
“You can’t make a ho into a housewife.” Callum’s weaselly laugh hackles my spikes. “Believe me, I tried. Couldn’t even beat her into submission.”
That’s all it takes for my anger to boil over. I charge for Callum, the pulse thumping in my ears almost drowning out Noah’s roar, “Do you have a fucking death wish?!”
One hit, and Callum is out cold, but I don’t stop. I beat the living shit out of him, only dispelling half the anger cutting me in two when images of him hitting Lola flash before my eyes. He beat her, and now I'm beating him, but he won't come out on top like Lola did. She kept her pride because she's so fucking strong. Callum isn't. He's a weasel of a man who didn't deserve a woman half as perfect as Lola.
I can't see anything through the fury blinding me. It's all a blur of fists and blood and Noah begging me to stop. Not even police sirens hollering in the distance slow me down. I want him to pay.
I want him dead.
“Jacob!” It takes everything Noah has to drag me off Callum, and even then, some part of my body is still whacking into him. “Enough. You taught him a lesson; now we have to go.”
Like a lightbulb switching on, I snap back to reality when my eyes absorb the blood on my hands. There’s enough to make me wonder if Callum is still alive.
I’m not the only one suspicious. Noah is checking him for a pulse, but he stops when a police officer draws a gun on him. “Put your hands in the air."
Noah’s wide eyes flick to mine before he raises his hands as requested. After holstering his gun, the officer rushes for him. He handcuffs him before pushing him forward, making him land on his stomach a mere inch from a lifeless Callum.
In a dazed state, I move to assist him. He wasn't doing anything wrong, so why is he being cuffed? My stumbled movements gain me the attention of the police officer. His pupils widen as he redraws his gun. “Stay where you are.” He directs his gun at my chest, his hands shaking.
He’s young. If I had to guess, I'd say he’s a first-year rookie. He’s also nervous about my size. That isn’t unusual; most people are threatened by my height, much less the span of my shoulders.
When I hold my hands out in front of my body, signaling I'm not going anywhere, a deep voice at my side murmurs, “Jacob?”
Only moving my eyes out of fear the nervous officer will shoot me if I move my body, I spot Ryan—friend and detective—standing on the bottom step of Callum’s porch.
“Hey.”
I inconspicuously nudge my head to the nervous officer, praying he’ll instruct him to lower his weapon, or at the very least, have him remove his finger from the trigger before he shoots me.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Lola
Tears sting my eyes when I peer through the one-way mirror at the Ravenshoe PD. Jacob is cuffed to a steel table. His usual happy-go-lucky exterior is nowhere to be found, replaced with a man who looks lost and confused. This is why I tried to stay away from him. If I had kept my distance, he wouldn’t be sitting in an interrogation room facing charges.
“Lola?”
Turning toward the voice, I’m met with a handsome man with short inky hair and blue eyes. His tailored dark suit showcases a muscular physique I could appreciate if I weren’t panicked out of my mind.
“Yes, I’m Lola.”
He waves for me to step forward. “Could you follow me?”
Nodding, I shadow him down the bustling corridor, my gaze only straying back to Jacob for the quickest second. His low-hanging head tells me everything I need to know. He feels as defeated as me.
When I enter a small interview room on the heels of the detective, the suspicions running rife through my veins the past two hours are proven accurate. Maggie is sitting behind a rectangular table. She’s not cuffed like Jacob, but her shoulders are sagging just as low. She smiles a weary grin when she spots me, but she keeps her eyes on the tabletop, unable to maintain eye contact.
“Why am I here, Maggie?”
With Maggie refusing to acknowledge my presence, the detective takes up her slack. He takes a seat in a chair opposite Maggie before gesturing for me to sit beside her.
“Lola, my name is Ryan. I'm a detective at Ravenshoe's Police Department. I was the one who called you earlier and asked you to come in.” When I nod, he continues, “I'm hoping you can provide me with a statement about an incident that occurred earlier today at Mavericks Bar." He checks his paperwork. "At approximately 1 PM."
Ryan’s gaze drifts up from his paperwork when I mutter, “You said you wouldn’t tell anyone.”
My words aren’t for him, but I’m too angry to keep it on the down-low. After Callum attacked me, Maggie swore she wouldn't tell anyone.
My anger gets a second wind when reality hits me like a freight train. She’s the reason Jacob turned up to Mavs in the middle of the afternoon, isn’t she? He doesn’t usually show up until well past six.
“You called Jacob, didn’t you?”
Maggie keeps her gaze fixed on the wooden tabletop while nodding. “Yes.”
I hate the tears sliding down her cheeks, but not as much as I hate being lied to. “You promised.”
“I know I did, but Jacob needs our help. He’s in a lot of trouble.” She peers at me with remorse-filled eyes, revealing the burden I’m carrying on my shoulders is just as heavy on hers. “He needs your help.”
I understand what she’s saying, and I know it’s the right thing, but I don’t want anyone to find out the secrets I’ve been hiding. Look what happened when I told Jacob. I don’t want to drag more people into the mess.
I try to walk away. I try to tell myself that Jacob is an adult who should have considered the repercussion of his actions before jumping the gun, but no matter how many times I tell myself this isn’t my fault, it is.
My gaze turns to Ryan. “What do you need me to do?”
“Maggie informed us that Callum Parker assaulted you earlier today at Mavericks and that his attack may have contributed to Jacob's frame of mind when he attacked Callum. Is that correct?”
“Yes.” Who knew one little word would be so hard to deliver?
I add proof to my verbal confirmation by tugging up the sleeve of my sweater. Air expels from Ryan’s nose when he takes in the purple, almost black mark circling my wrist, then his jaw spasms when I show him the bruises on my neck.
After standing to his feet, he gathers the papers off the desk. “I’ll have you make a statement advising what happened today, then I’ll start the process of having Callum charged.”
“What?” I question, my voice panicked.
Ryan lowers his concerned gaze to mine. “What Callum did is illegal. We’ll charge him with assault and battery, then file a restraining order so he can’t come within five hundred feet of you.” He drags his paperwork to his chest. “I’ll have a female officer take photographic evidence of your assault, then I’ll take your statement...”
His words trail off when I shake my head. “I’m not pressing charges.”
If I have Callum charged, it will only be a matter of time before everyone knows what happened. Gossip in small towns like ours spreads like wildfire, and I refuse to be portrayed as a victim the rest of my life. It’s bad enough I’ll see it every time Jacob looks at me; I don’t want to see it from strangers as well.
Maggie grabs ahold of my hand. Her hold isn’t painful. It’s more panicked than anything. “You can’t let him get away with this.”
“He didn’t get away with it. Jacob took care of it.”
“There’s a legal way to handle this.” This statement isn’t coming from Maggie. It’s from Ryan. He’s peering at me with concern, hating that I’m letting Callum get off scot-free. I hate it as well, but when forced to pick between being a martyr or remaining quiet, I’ll always choose silence.
“Will pressing charges help Jacob?”
Ryan hesitates before he shakes his head.
“Then we’re done here.”
My steps to the door slow when Ryan say
s, “An official statement could still help Jacob. Will you at least do that?”
“Just a statement?” I double-check. I don't want to be blindsided for the second time today.
“Yes. It will only be used as evidence to assist in Jacob’s case.”
My heart drums out a lively tune as I nod. "Okay. I can do that."
For the next hour, I draft a statement on what occurred earlier today at Mavericks under the pretext it will only be used in Jacob’s case. Ryan is hoping to use my statement as evidence as to why Jacob attacked Callum with just cause. If the DA accepts our statement, Jacob’s charges may be downgraded to assault and battery instead of attempted murder.
Just hearing how serious Jacob's charges are cracked my heart. Jacob is the kindest, gentlest guy I've ever met. He's a gentle giant who's now facing years in prison because of me. He must regret the day he offered a stranger a ride home.
I sign the bottom of my statement and date it before raising my eyes to Ryan. “Is that it?”
He nods. “Yes. Thank you.” He guides me to the door and down the hall. “If you change your mind about charging Callum, my number is on here. Use it any time, day or night.” When he hands me his business card, I accept it, even knowing I have no intention of using it. “Even without pressing charges, the restraining order is still valid. If Callum comes near you, call me.”
I nod before walking out the large double glass doors of Ravenshoe PD. Just as I’m about to gallop down the stairs, I hear Maggie shouting my name. She’s leaning against the wall, smoking a cigarette, the shudder of her hands visible from a distance. I had no clue she smoked. If her screwed-up expression when she puffs down the last half of her cigarette is anything to go by, neither did her lungs.
After stubbing out her smoke, she strolls my way. Her eyes are full of tears, and her lips are twitching. “I'm sorry I broke my promise. I just didn't know any other way to help Jacob.”
“It’s fine; don’t worry about it.” I’m accustomed to people not keeping their promises, so what’s another name on an already long list?
The composure I’m struggling to maintain nearly raptures when Maggie mutters, “He loves you, Lola. That’s why he responded like he did.”
I bite the inside of my cheek, warning my voice it better not crack. “I know.” That’s why I have to stay far away from him. “Can you find someone to cover my shifts?”
Maggie steps back, her brow inching up in concern. “For how long?”
I give her a tight smile before starting my gallop down the stairs again. “Forever.”
I race down the cracked sidewalk, not once looking back on what will be my old life.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Jacob
My eyes float up from the cuff circling my wrists when a door creaks. Ryan is heading my way. His shoulders are still slumped, but they’re not as low as earlier.
“Did Noah get out okay?”
He sits on a hard steel chair across from me before jerking up his chin. “Yeah, the neighbor who called in the disturbance issued a statement saying he was a bystander. He left around an hour ago, saying he’ll be back as soon as he gets you a lawyer.”
He spreads his knees to the width of his shoulders before leaning forward to undo my cuffs. When they’re removed, I rotate my wrists in a circular motion to loosen them. The officer who brought me in tightened them to the point they pinched my skin.
After dumping my cuffs in a briefcase balancing on the desk separating us, Ryan returns his eyes to me. “Are you sure you don’t want me to call someone? Your dad or brother?”
“Nah, I’m good.” The longer I keep this secret, the better for all involved.
I'm still struggling to understand why I reacted so poorly today. It's pretty scary realizing you can kill someone with your bare hands. If Noah hadn't dragged me off Callum, I'm confident that would have been the result, so not only am I grateful Noah avoided charges, I'll forever be in his debt for pulling me off him.
Noticing the low hang of my brow, Ryan says, “Don’t beat yourself up, Jacob. Most guys would have responded the same way.”
This is why I like Ryan. He looks past what others believe to form his own opinion.
Our heads shift to the door in sync when a tap sounds into the room. The officer who cuffed me to the table is standing outside, requesting to speak with Ryan. They chat for a few minutes, but I don’t hear anything they’re saying because my thoughts are elsewhere. Mainly with Lola, but a small part wonders how I’ll explain what happened to my dad and Hank. Hank said if I ever used my skills outside the cage, I’d be booted from his training schedule. I don’t want that. I love fighting... nearly as much as I love Lola.
I lock my eyes with Ryan when he returns to his seat. “Lola and Maggie issued statements on what happened today.”
“Does that mean Callum has been charged?”
Ryan’s jaw ticks as he shakes his head.
“Why not?”
“Because Lola won't press charges.” He breathes his words out slowly like they're as hard for him to deliver as they are for me to hear.
“Why? He hurt her. Did you see the marks on her neck?” I shoot out of my chair, needing to pace out the anger boiling my blood. “If Maggie didn’t intervene, he would have killed her.”
The door of the interrogation room flies open as fast as I rocketed from my chair. If Ryan didn’t dive out his chair to position himself between the officer who cuffed me and myself, I’d be kissing the pavement right now. That’s how much hate is in the officer’s eyes. He thinks I’m the criminal instead of the man who nearly choked a woman to death.
What the fuck is wrong with him?
With his fists clenched at his side and his veins pulsating, Ryan steps closer to the unnamed officer. “I’ve got this.”
Their intense showdown lasts for several heart-thrashing seconds before the officer finally relents. After a last sneer directed at me, he exits the room as quickly as he entered it. I stare at his retreating frame in shock, stunned about how badly he’s misjudged me. I might have just beat a man nearly to death, but I had a legitimate reason to hurt him.
While scrubbing a hand across his chin, Ryan pivots around to face me. “Please sit down before I’m forced to cuff you again.”
His threat holds no steam, but I stride back to the table and slump onto the black steel chair I’ve been seated at the past four hours. I’ve caused him enough issues tonight. I don’t want to add more shit to his plate.
It’s the fight of my life to remain seated when he discloses, “Lola supplied a statement to assist your case, but she won’t press charges against Callum.”
“So I’m pretty much fucked? Is that what you’re saying?”
He stares straight into my eyes but says nothing. His silence is all I need to know my fate. I’m going to jail for defending my girl. Would I change anything if I knew this would be the outcome? Not at all. I'd do it all again tomorrow if given a chance. Callum got what he deserved. I just wish Lola would add to his punishment instead of bowing out of the fight.
Approximately two hours later, a guy dressed to impress enters my holding room. His swanky suit and hundred dollar haircut assures me he’s not my lawyer—neither Noah or I could afford such costly representation—but if he’s not here to defend me, why is he here?
He unbuttons his suit before holding out his hand in offering. “Jacob, I’m assuming?”
“Yep.” I stand from my seat to accept his handshake. Once I’m extended to my full height, a smirk furls his lips.
“It’s nice to meet you; I’m Isaac.”
When he sits, I mimic his movements. “Are you my lawyer?”
He seems too young to be a lawyer, but maybe an intern was all Noah could afford. When you’re swimming at the bottom of the pond, you take what you can get.
“No.” He chuckles, amused by my reply. I don’t know why. “But I do have a proposition for you. You need a lawyer, and from what I’ve heard from Nick, you ca
n’t afford one.”
“Nick...?” I leave my question for him to fill in.
He follows along nicely. “Holt. My brother.”
“Oh.” Ohhh.
Isaac’s smirk reveals he caught my extra “oh.” Nick and I are friends, but we don’t really get along, if that makes any sense? He’s a bandmate of Noah’s, but we don’t see eye to eye. Probably because he’s such a short little fucker.
My inward chuckles cease when Isaac says, “If you agree to work for me, my lawyer will get your charges quashed.”
“You want me to work for you?” Curiosity echoes in my tone. From what Noah told me, Isaac owns a dance club in Ravenshoe. When Isaac lifts his chin, I ask, “Doing what? I don’t dance.”
His chuckle bounces around my holding room. “I’ve got my bases covered at my clubs. I want you to be my fighter.”
His reply piques my interest, but not enough for me to forget who I am. “Sorry, can’t. I’m already fighting—”
“Not anymore, you aren’t,” he interrupts, his tone mocking. “The instant you were charged with battery, you lost the right to fight in a professional capacity.”
“What?” I’m too dumbstruck to form more than one-word sentences.
Isaac pulls out paperwork from a satchel he’s carrying before handing it to me. Each page is filled with examples of cases where fighters were prosecuted on assault charges. In every case, they were given a lifetime ban from fighting.
“What would you prefer, time behind bars or fighting for me?”
I peer up from the papers I’m scrutinizing. “Is neither an option?”
With an arrogant smirk, Isaac shakes his head.
“I don’t want to go to jail.” Who will protect Lola if I’m locked away?
Isaac hands me a pen. “Then I suggest you accept my offer. Sign a contract stating you'll fight exclusively for me, and I'll ensure you don't do any time.”