“Walking.”
He headed toward her. “Why so slow?”
“I’m not slow. You guys take gigantic steps. I couldn’t keep up. Next time I’ll bring roller skates.”
“Fuck, Chrissy. I’m sorry.”
“For what? It’s no big deal.”
“It’s a big deal to me. Come on.” Jack slowed his pace, and when they reached the intersection, he rested his hand on her lower back, guiding her, protecting her.
As soon as they reached the small diner, a heavyset older woman with pink chubby cheeks and a friendly smile greeted them. “Hiya, Jack. Haven’t seen you ’round in days. Heard about the bar fight yesterday. Glad you caught those hooligans. Earl and I were just sayin’ how proud we are of ya, son. I remember when you were just a little boy and—” She stopped midsentence when she noticed Chrissy at his side. “Oh, my word!” She clasped her hands together. “Is that little Chrissy? I haven’t seen you in a long time. Come here, darlin’.” She reached for Chrissy and gave her a tight hug.
“Esther! Wow, it’s so nice to see you. You’re still running this place, I see.”
“Of course. We’ve been here for thirty-five years and don’t plan on leavin’ anytime soon. Earl would wither away if he didn’t have this ol’ place to come to every day. How long you in town for?”
“Just a few days.”
“Oh, my son Jeffrey is in town too. Maybe you can come over for dinner. I think you two have so much in common. Remember Jeffrey?”
“Oh … um, yes, I remember, Esther. Even though that sounds super nice, I’m only here for a day or two, and then I have to go back home. Maybe next time.” What the hell? Do I have a sign on my forehead that says Husband Needed ASAP?
“Then go have a seat, darlin’. I’ll tell Earl you’re here. He’ll be delighted to see you.”
“If you’re in the market for a date, a boyfriend, and/or steamy sex, I know someone I could hook you up with,” Jack whispered in her ear.
Chrissy affectionately shoved him. “My goodness, I must be exuding desperation. If one more person tries to hook me up with their son, nephew, or any other relative, I’ll scream.”
Jack let out an amused snort.
Her mood lifted as they walked to the booth where Slade was already sitting. They slipped into the booth, facing Slade.
“What took you guys so long? I’m a starved man. You know what kind of shit they serve in there?” Slade motioned with his thumb in the direction of the jail.
Jack was about to answer, but Chrissy put her hand on his thigh and squeezed. He whipped his head to her and saw her eyes telling him to just let it go. She didn’t want to argue with Slade.
Slade hadn’t cared that she couldn’t keep up with him. He couldn’t have cared less whether she wired him the bail money or came in person. Sure, they’d talked on the phone over the last eleven years; it was small talk and it was brief, but they had stayed in contact. The last time she’d seen him, though, was about ten years ago at their father’s funeral. The last thing he’d said to her there—the reason she’d decided not to return to town—was forever ingrained in her head: “This is all your fault, Chrissy. You should’ve called me the first time that guy touched you. The minute you got to town you should’ve called me and told me what was going on. You knew Dad was going to get into that car and set things right. You knew he had a temper and would want to protect his perfect little girl. You knew it! You were selfish to come back to town when the shit finally hit the fan instead of letting us know before it got as bad as it did. And now I’ve lost my dad. I have no one left.”
He had been drinking that night and the words came out slurred, but the truth of them had shone in his misty eyes. Jack had been consoling his parents at the other side of the funeral home and hadn’t heard the argument, but she was fairly certain he too had been drinking, because his eyes had been unfocused and when he’d greeted her earlier his hug had been a little too tight and unsteady.
Bottom line: Slade always took Chrissy for granted. He thought because she was a doctor she could afford to bail him out. He resented her for their father’s death. And because the guilt ate her up, she didn’t bother standing up for herself. She felt she owed him, because had it not been for her, their father would still be alive today. So the pace of his step was not worth an argument.
Slade was concentrating on the menu and didn’t notice the exchange. Jack reached under the table and put his hand on Chrissy’s, the one that was squeezing his leg. The waitress came by, took their order, and brought water and coffee. And still Jack and Chrissy’s hands stayed together under the table.
In and out of town, Chrissy. Hand-holding is not a part of the plan, she reminded herself. Jack had flipped her hand over and was drawing small circles in her palm and tracing the bluish-green gathering of veins on her wrist. Oh, God, what am I getting myself into?
Jack looked at Slade. “Start talking, brother.”
Slade picked up his cup of coffee, and Chrissy noticed a small tremor in his hand. Her eyebrows furrowed, and Slade must’ve picked up on it because he quickly set the cup back down, put his hands on his lap under the table, and began to talk.
As Slade began to tell his story, Chrissy instinctively reached into her messy purse and dug around for the antibacterial towelettes she kept in there. Her purse had almost anything she’d ever need for almost any occasion. Her head was practically inside her oversized bag when Jack placed his hand on her forearm to get her attention. “Chrissy? What’s with the scavenger hunt?”
Her head snapped up, and she looked at both men. “Sorry. Don’t mind me. Continue your story.”
“Continue?” Slade said. “I can’t even begin with that huge-ass bag taking over half the table and all the noise you’re—”
“Aha! Found it.” She placed her bag by her side, put a little tube on the table, and ripped open the paper packaging. Then she leaned over the table.
Slade pulled back. “What the fuck, Chris? Is that a condom?”
“You are such a moron!” She let out a breath. “It’s an antibacterial towelette and some antibacterial cream. Stop being such a baby and let me see that scrape on your neck. I bet they didn’t even clean it before you went to jail. It’s probably infected.”
“No, Chrissy, there’s not a nurse giving out sponge baths in jail. Stop being such a mom. Leave my cut alone and listen to my story.”
Chrissy ignored him and leaned almost completely across the table. Her ass was practically in Jack’s face. She wiped the wound clean and then put some cream on it as both men silently watched her work. When she finished she sat back down. Then she looked at the men. “What?”
“You’re my little sister, but you’re acting like the older sibling.”
“I’m a doctor. That’s why I did it.” That’s a lie. “And anyway, if the older sibling is a huge idiot who’s fighting and getting arrested, how’s he going to tend to his little sister?” Jack took Chrissy’s hand, which was under the the table, and placed it on his lap again.
Slade seemed to ponder her words for a few moments before he cleared his throat and began to speak. “Okay, so after you left the fight, Jack, I was getting my stuff together and was about to head out to my car. That pretty chick Jessica—you know, the classy brunette I’ve been trying to hook up with for months who tends bar at the Pier—started talking to me. She told me she finally broke up with Dennis. So I asked her out. Again. For the hundredth time. This time she agreed. I was walking her to her car, just talking, when all of a sudden I get pushed from the back. It was a pussy move. When I turned around, that asshole Dennis took a swing at me. I ducked and threw two good body shots, and apparently broke his rib. Then the son of a bitch lunged at Jessica. What the fuck was I supposed to do? Stand by and let a man hit a woman?” Slade glanced at Chrissy, whose body seemed to constrict; under his fingers, Jack could feel her pulse accelerate. But when Slade turned back to Jack and continued to explain, Chrissy instantly relaxed again. Jack loo
ked at Chrissy and then at Slade; had he imagined that there been some sort of quiet exchange between them?
“So I punched him and broke his nose. Dude, the guy’s a jerk-off, mayor’s nephew or not.” Slade took a sip of coffee before he spoke again. “Would do it again. He was going to hit her. I don’t regret it.”
When the food arrived, Chrissy pulled her hand out of Jack’s lap, and before Jack began eating he gently squeezed her thigh. They ate, mostly in silence. “Well, I’ll do my best to get the charges dropped, but I can’t promise anything, brother. It’s the mayor. He has a lot of pull at the precinct. Small town and all.”
“Thanks, Jack,” said Chrissy. “And Slade, don’t do anything stupid while you’re out and everything should be fine. Don’t jump bail or anything.”
“Don’t worry, I won’t be leaving town. I have a fight tonight. I have to stick around,” Slade said.
Chrissy choked on the coffee she was sipping, causing her eyes to water. Slade quickly stood and went around the booth. He began patting her on the back, while Jack handed her some napkins. She dried her eyes and waited a moment for the coughing to subside, then used the napkin to clean up the small amount of coffee that had spilled.
“You okay, sis?” Slade asked.
When she could speak again she asked, “Slade, what did you say?”
“I have a fight. Tonight.”
“Bro, I don’t think that’s such a good idea,” Jack put in. “You’re supposed to be on your best behavior.”
“Don’t worry about me. I have it all under control.”
“Slade, you cannot fight tonight. Are you out of your fucking mind?” Chrissy’s palms were on the table and she was leaning toward him.
“Calm down. It’s not a big deal. I do it all the—” Slade’s cell phone began to ring. He immediately answered and said a few things into the phone as Jack and Chrissy looked at him. He hung up and stood. “Thanks for everything, guys. Gotta go to the gym. That was my trainer. They’re waiting for me. Jack, can you give me a ride?”
Chrissy’s steel-blue eyes were begging Jack not to take Slade anywhere. Jack hesitated for a moment, then took out his wallet, threw a few twenties on the table, and stood up. “See you later,” he said to a stunned Chrissy. Instead of helping her convince Slade not to fight, he was taking Slade to train. Her eyes watered again, but this time it wasn’t from choking but from anger. She didn’t know whom she was angrier at: Slade for getting arrested and for fighting tonight, Jack for taking him to train, or herself for caring.
Just before walking out, Jack glanced back at Chrissy, whose blue eyes were fixed on him incredulously. He cocked his head to the side trying to convey an apology. Chrissy shook her head in disbelief and looked away. She sat alone at the diner for another half hour before heading back home.
Back at the house, Chrissy shut herself in her room and booted up her laptop. She still had not formally accepted the job offer at Miami West, and the HR department at the hospital had been emailing her for an answer. She heard the door open and close downstairs. She stayed in her room, too angry to speak with Slade; besides, she knew there was nothing she could do to convince him not to go tonight. Actually, what she really wanted was for him to stop fighting altogether. After an hour of surfing the Web and listening to the array of noises coming from downstairs—the microwave beeping, the door of the bathroom opening and closing—she heard the front door close and a car take off. Not able to stand it any longer, she hopped out of bed. She’d arranged for his bail, so she owned him! She’d make sure he was a good little boy tonight, fighting his little fight and then coming straight home.
After quickly getting ready, she slammed the front door shut and stormed to her car. She turned it on and then realized she didn’t know where the hell she was going. She couldn’t very well call Slade and ask because he would never tell her. That left only one person. She looked over and saw his car parked in front of his house. She was going to have to swallow her pride and talk to Jack.
Chapter 4
Knock. Knock. Knock.
Bark. Bark. Bark.
Silky black hair fell on his chest as Chrissy slid onto him. Her piercing blue eyes begged him for more pleasure. She didn’t talk, she didn’t argue, she just enjoyed and accepted what he had to give her. It felt like a triumphant fuck-you because he’d managed to shut her up with pleasure. He put his hands on her hips and lifted her up and then thrust her down while he simultaneously pushed his pelvis deeper into her, again and again until her eyes rolled back in agonized pleasure. She moaned his name as she …
Knock. Knock. Knock.
Bark. Bark. Bark.
“For the love of God! Can’t a guy dream in peace around here?” He hopped out of bed, adjusted himself, and painfully walked downstairs to where Drogo was jumping up and down facing the door, barking. “There better be a damn good reason you’re waking me up, Martin.” He flung the door open.
“There is. I need to know where Slade’s fighting.”
“Oh. Sorry. Wrong Martin.” His fantasy didn’t do justice to how gorgeous she really was. I hope she doesn’t look down. He tried to adjust his shorts again, stealthily this time. She reached down to pet Drogo, but he growled, so she pulled back with a small pout. Sexiest damn pout he’d ever seen.
“Pardon?”
“I thought it was Slade knocking. He’s usually the only one that knocks relentlessly like that. I guess it runs in your DNA.” He let out a sigh and stepped aside. “Come on in.”
“No. No time. I need the address of where Slade’s fighting.” He could tell she was trying not to be affected by him, but her gaze trailed down his bare chest and then quickly found his eyes again. “Address. Now. Please.”
“What for?”
“So I can go.”
“Why?”
“I want to make sure he’s safe and comes straight home.”
“He’s not twelve years old, Chris. You can’t control him.”
“Are you going to help me or not? This is a small enough town. I’m sure if I ask around someone will give me the address of the fight.”
“Is there any way, any way at all, I can convince you not to go?” She shook her head. “Fuck, Chris. Give me a minute. Let me get dressed. Come in for a sec.”
“Why? I don’t need you to go. I only need the address.” She reached down again, and Drogo growled once more. As if she owned the house, Chrissy walked over to the kitchen, opened the refrigerator, and took out peanut butter and grape jelly. Jack looked at her, completely bewildered. Did she even know what she was doing? Was she hungry? She slathered a slice of bread with peanut butter and jelly and cut it into small pieces. She placed a small square on her palm and bent down.
Jack shook his head as if he was trying to get the weirdness out of his brain. “I’m not letting you go by yourself. And what the hell are you doing?” He reached down to pull her up.
“Never mind what I’m doing!” She swatted his hand away and stayed crouched down. “Save the big-brother act. I’m not the same little girl you thought you had to protect. I’ve grown up. I can fend for myself.” Drogo hesitantly walked over to her, sniffed her palm, and backed away. Chrissy placed the small squares on the floor, stood, and wiped her hands on a nearby washcloth. “Please, I just need the address.”
Jack sighed. Didn’t she understand that the dog would never like her? He didn’t like anyone, including Jack, who fed and housed him!
“Oh, trust me, I know you’re not the same little girl you used to be.” His heated gaze swept her body. “That’s exactly why I have to go with you. You’re not going alone to a testosterone-fueled cage fight. So be a doll and sit your pretty little ass on this chair for five minutes so I can get dressed.”
Five minutes later, Jack was tying the laces of his sneakers. He was wearing black sweatpants that fell low on his hips and a white tank top. Chrissy sat on the wood floor, her legs crossed, feeding Drogo small PB&J squares with her right hand while cautiously petting him w
ith her left hand. The dog still appeared tentative about being touched, but it seemed that if petting came as a package deal with the food, Drogo had conceded to it. Jack rolled his eyes at the sight of Chrissy on the floor of his house, so sweet and docile—a very big change from the feistiness of just a few minutes ago. “Come on, beautiful girl. Let’s go keep your six-foot-four, three-hundred-pound professional cage fighter of a brother safe and sound.”
She tried to give Drogo one last pat before she stood up, but the pup took a step back. “Damn, I thought I’d won him over,” she mumbled. “Stop making fun, Jack. Come on, let’s go.” She pulled him by the arm as if she were twice his size. It was adorable. Ridiculous, but adorable.
“Wait. Before we go anywhere, you need to go change your shoes. You can’t go in heels to where we’re going.”
“These aren’t heels. They’re wedges.”
“I don’t know what you just said, but you can’t go in those shoes. Go get something more appropriate.”
“Fine, bossy man. I’ll be right back.” She ran across the lawn and was back in a minute.
“Better?”
He looked down to see her tight jeans tucked into cowboy boots. He ran a hand down the back of his skull and squeezed the back of his neck, trying to keep his head from exploding. He mumbled, “Evil, evil woman.”
“What?” Her eyebrows furrowed and she looked down at her feet. “They’re boots. They’re not open-toed.”
“Chris, seriously? You’re going to get me killed. Let’s go before I hurl you over my shoulder and carry you straight into my bed, where the only thing you’ll be thinking about is a different kind of contact sport.”
“You wish, buddy. I’m still so pissed off at you for taking him to train today that if I didn’t need the address, I would have never spoken to you again. If you really cared about him, you’d understand how stupid this is. He was just arrested for fighting. This has to be some sort of violation of bail or something. As a cop, not to mention his friend, you should be on my side. I don’t know why you just can’t give me the address and let me go on my own.” She took a step toward him and poked his chest. “And stop calling me Chris!”
Against the Cage (Worth the Fight #1) Page 5