“He was gonna go whether I drove him or not, Chrissy.” He slowly and loudly drawled out her name, as if making a point. “The entire way there I tried to convince him not to fight. I thought he’d listen to me if it was just him and me shooting the breeze. He doesn’t do well with confrontations.”
“Look, I don’t have time for this. If you’re coming with me, we have to go. Hurry up.”
She started to cross the lawn toward her car, but he reached for her forearm and swung her back and around to the garage. “We’ll take my car. Come on.” He pointed to the massive Jeep parked in his two-car garage. For once, she didn’t argue; she just shook her head, amused. “Big car.”
“Big guy,” he replied, pointing at himself and giving her a big, dimpled, mischievous smile.
They drove in silence. When they arrived, Chrissy looked around, taking in her surroundings. They were in an abandoned warehouse in the middle of nowhere. The warehouse was dilapidated, damp, and very crowded. Jack’s senses were on high alert, telling him that it was a bad idea for her to be there. But if he hadn’t gone with her, she would’ve gone alone, and that was not something he would have permitted.
“Just because you’re here doesn’t mean I’m not mad at you or at this entire situation,” she said, waving her arm to indicate the warehouse. From the way she held her head up high and stood in perfect posture, Jack could tell she was trying to be brave. But fear was written all over her face and her eyes were wide open, like a blue-eyed Bambi.
To top it off, she was dressed completely inappropriately. She had her hair in a long ponytail and was wearing jeans that were practically painted on, a black tank top, and cowboy boots that should have looked unfeminine but might actually have been the most sexually arousing pair of shoes he’d ever seen, even more so than her broken red high heels. Okay, probably because they were on Chrissy. He knew this was not a place that women frequented, and the men would most certainly notice her. The proper outfit would have been … well, he couldn’t think of one, because she shouldn’t have been there.
The closer they got to the center of the warehouse, the thicker the crowd got.
“Where’s the ring or the cage?” she asked.
“These underground fights don’t work like that. The crowd is the ring. Slade will fight in the middle.” He pointed to a large group of people. “You see those rowdy people over there? They will form a circle, and that circle will act as the ring. Do not go anywhere near that area. You hear me?”
“Don’t worry. I won’t.” She continued looking around. “So this isn’t a professional fight, is it?”
“No. Definitely not.”
He noticed that she had slowly inched her way closer to him. Admittedly, he’d never felt ashamed of what he did, but bringing Chrissy into this seedy environment disturbed him. He grabbed her waist and pulled her closer, tucking her under his left arm. She looked up at him, and in her face he saw absolutely no trace of humor or even the lust that had glazed her eyes the last few times they’d been together. All he saw was concern, and it tore at his heart. “Just trying to keep you safe,” he told her.
He looked around, trying to do a quick surveillance of the premise. He wanted to acquaint himself with all the exits, find where the rowdiest groups were standing, and see if anyone looked suspicious—just a habit he’d picked up from spending all these years as a cop.
She leaned into him on the tips of her toes and said into his ear, “I thought you said this was safe.”
It was so loud, it was hard to hear her. He bent down. “That’s not what I said. I said that I know what I’m doing when I get in the cage and fight. I can’t vouch for these assholes that stand around betting and drinking.”
“This doesn’t look legal. I remember seeing something similar to this in a small town in Brazil a few years back. People got seriously injured that night. You’re a cop—how can you be okay with this?”
He clenched his jaw and whispered, “You’re right, Chrissy, this isn’t legal and this isn’t the kind of place I fight in. My fights are sanctioned. This underground shit is something entirely different. But I’m going to pretend I’m not seeing this, as I’m off-duty. You understand?”
She nodded, grasping what he was saying—or, more important, what he wasn’t saying: that he was risking his career by being there.
“Do you know why I’m doing this, Chrissy?”
“Slade’s like a brother to you. I understand. Thank you so—”
“No, Chrissy,” he snapped at her, and palmed her cheeks a little more roughly than he had intended. “I’m not risking my career or your safety for your brother. He can take care of himself. You know why I’m doing this.”
Her big doe eyes looked into his, and she gulped. “For me?”
“Yes. I’m doing this for you, Chrissy.”
“I didn’t ask you to come.”
He shook his head. “God, you’re the most infuriating woman I’ve ever met. You’re this headstrong woman with me and a complete pushover with your brother. You come back to town after eleven years the minute he calls you to bail him out of jail. Jesus, you don’t even tell him to slow down ’cause he’s walking too fast and you can’t keep up. Do I just bring it out in you, a need to constantly fight me? I don’t understand you. You never used to be that way. When I would take you home after you sneaked into a party, you’d complain, but you just followed me to my car and pouted all the way back home.”
“I don’t mean to argue with you, Jack. And I wish I weren’t such a pushover when it comes to Slade, but I have my reasons.”
“Which are?”
Chrissy looked around and said, “Not the time or place.”
Jack nodded. “Come on, the fight is about to start. Do not leave my side for one second. Can you do this one single thing for me, please?”
“Yes. I promise.”
“Good. Come on.” He grabbed her hand and walked toward a wall at the far end of the outer ring of the crowd, close to one of the exits. It was darker than the rest of the warehouse but less crowded.
“God, what the hell was Slade thinking being here? Does he need money that badly?” Chrissy asked.
Jack just shrugged. He was wondering the same thing.
The bell sounded, and an announcer yelled, “Next up, Slade the Slayer versus Killer Kilpatrick.”
Chrissy gasped and covered her mouth. “Oh my God. Killer?”
“It’s just a name. Calm down. Take a deep breath. He’s fought much bigger men. Your brother’s good.”
Without much fanfare, Slade made his way into the center of the unruly crowd. He obviously hadn’t noticed Chrissy or Jack. He jumped up and down, loosening his muscles in preparation for the fight. He had on black gym shorts and sneakers. Killer, on the other hand, came out to loud, boisterous background music. He was wearing flashy lime-green shorts and apparently had a big fan base, judging by the cheers from the crowd.
Without noticing she was even doing it, she was clutching Jack’s forearm with one hand and covering her eyes with the other. “Come here.” He turned her around, pulled her into his chest, and cupped the back of her head while stroking her hair. “Don’t watch. I know you’ve seen all sorts of things as a doctor overseas, but it’s different when it’s your brother.” She nodded into his chest. Chrissy fisted Jack’s shirt as the yells and screams from the audience escalated, and he drew her in even closer.
“Fuck!” Jack yelled.
She pushed away from Jack and turned around. “What? What happened?” Chrissy tried getting on the tips of her toes to peer over the crowd but couldn’t see a thing. She tugged on the hem of Jack’s shirt. “What? Tell me. Is he hurt?”
He gently peeled her fingers from his shirt. “Nothing. He took a big blow to the face but he seems fine. I told you not to watch.” But just as the words finished coming from his lips, Killer lifted Slade over his body and slammed him into the ground. Jack’s eyes widened, but he tried not to flinch in order to keep Chrissy calm. Half a
second later, Jack started breathing again when he saw Slade stand up. Thankfully, Chrissy was too short to see the bloodbath that was taking place in the center of the circle. He was glad that Chrissy had never seen them fight before, at least not since he and Slade had turned pro. When they had just been amateurs, they were the ones who left the ring battered, bruised, and losers. Now they took some blows but gave a lot more in return.
“Well, then don’t scream ‘fuck’ if you don’t want me to turn around!” She punched him on his biceps and then went back to burrowing into his chest, oblivious to the ass whupping that had just taken place.
The hand that had been cradling her head had somehow made its way underneath the hem of her shirt and was splayed against her lower back holding her close to his body. The rapid beating of her heart pounded against him. The noise of all the people yelling, combined with the muskiness of the warehouse and the fact that her brother was currently getting pummeled, was obviously making her anxious. He felt the exact moment when her resolve wavered, because she became jelly in his arms. He leaned back against the wall and spread his legs so that he could completely support her weight against him. “Hey, stay with me okay?” She nodded into his chest. “This is the last round. He’s doing great.”
She looked up at him. “I can’t see my brother get beat up … I just can’t. I feel like such a wuss. If he survives this fight, I’m going to kill him.”
“Take a number.”
A second before the final bell of the final round, Slade threw a jab to Killer’s nose, and when his opponent bent down in agony, Slade finished him off with a flying knee to the face. Blood spurted everywhere. Killer looked like a rag doll on the floor. Everyone screamed.
“He won, babe. It’s over.”
She was about to turn around, but he grabbed her by the shoulders and forced her to meet his gaze. “Listen to me. I want to warn you. He looks bad.” He looked across the room and then back down into her eyes again. “Real bad. Don’t freak out. Okay?”
Slowly she turned around. “I’m a doctor, I’ve seen it all. I don’t frea— Holy shit!”
Somehow she wriggled her way out of his grip and ran toward the crowd to help Slade. “Son of a bitch! This woman doesn’t listen to anything!” he groaned. “Chrissy! Wait up!” he yelled, but she paid no heed.
The crowd was all worked up. Some were angry because of the loss, others cheerful because of the win, but every single one of them was drunk and full of adrenaline. Jack couldn’t imagine a worse scenario for a girl like Chrissy on her own.
In the blink of an eye, the crowd consumed her and she was nowhere to be seen. His heart pumped and his mind began to race. As a cop, he faced danger every day, but there he was equipped to handle the situation. At the moment, however, he was a lost man. He couldn’t think straight. His sole thought was to find her.
Jack pushed his way toward the center, where Slade towered over the mob of people. When he was a few feet away from Slade, he looked around but didn’t see Chrissy. If he went up to Slade and explained that he’d lost his little sister, Slade would kill him—something that Jack would find completely justifiable. He backed away so that Slade wouldn’t see him, and continued to look.
There was an old scaffold in the far corner. Thank God for his daily workout routine, because it wouldn’t have been an easy task to climb up had he not been in peak physical condition. He placed both palms on the edge and did a pull-up. Once he got his legs over, he was able to stand up and look down at the mass of people. It was dark, but the crowd had started to disperse, making it easier to search.
When he didn’t see her, he thought he’d lose his mind. His heart began to race. Then from the corner of his eye he saw some commotion—and recognized those damn cowboy boots. He couldn’t see her face because of the men standing in front of her, but who else would be wearing cowboy boots and causing trouble? It looked like her back was pinned against the wall and a big man had his arms bracketed on either side of her, caging her in. Another man also hovered close by, obviously interested in the situation but not coming to Chrissy’s aid. Without hesitation, Jack jumped down and ran toward them.
He heard her before he saw her. “Do. Not. Touch. Me!” she yelled. Jack grabbed Asshole #1, the one who had her pinned against the wall, by the back of the neck and slammed him to the floor. When Asshole #1 tried to get back up, Jack punched him in the face.
“Hey, fucker, there’s enough pussy here to share,” yelled Asshole #2 to Jack as he grabbed Chrissy’s wrist and pulled her toward him. Jack immediately elbowed Asshole #2 in the nose, causing him to release Chrissy’s arm. Just then Chrissy pulled her knee up and slammed it right into Asshole #2’s groin as hard as she possibly could.
“Bitch!” was all Asshole #2 was able to mumble as he cupped himself and dropped to his knees.
“Good girl!” Jack said proudly to Chrissy as he reached for her, but Asshole #1 had somehow managed to get up and sucker-punched Jack square in the face. Chrissy screamed. Half a second later, Asshole #1 lay on the floor attempting to protect his face as Slade, who’d come from nowhere, beat into him. Left. Right. Left. Right.
“Stop it!” Chrissy screamed. “Stop it!” She hammered Slade on the back until he finally stepped away from the guy he was pummeling. Then she turned her attention to Jack. “Oh my God! Are you okay?” He nodded. She reached for him to help him up, which was silly given that he was at least a hundred pounds heavier, but he took her hand anyway.
“Come on, Slade. Let’s get out of here, fast. Cops will be here any moment,” Jack said. The irony of that was not wasted on them.
With Chrissy’s hand firmly held in Jack’s, the three of them ran toward Jack’s car. “I’ll drive,” Chrissy said, snatching the keys from Jack. He was going to argue, but his nose was gushing and his eye was beginning to swell. He was in no condition to drive, and being a doctor, she knew that.
Even through the pain and the blurry vision, it amused him to see Chrissy hop into the driver’s seat of his big Jeep and struggle slightly to move the seat forward.
Once they were a few miles out and all three had somewhat composed themselves, Slade asked, “Dude, why’d you bring her?”
“Really, Slade? Really? This is how we’re going to start this conversation? What the hell were you thinking, fighting in there?” Chrissy answered, even though the question was intended for Jack.
“Seriously, Slade, what were you doing there?” Jack added.
“I needed the money. I just made twenty-five grand.”
“What could you need money so badly for that you would risk your life?” Chrissy asked.
“You are so dramatic, sis. You’ve always been such a Goody Two-shoes. What’s the worst thing that could’ve happened? I could break something or need a couple of stitches. It’s still worth the money I made in ten minutes. And you,” he yelled, turning to the backseat, where Jack was sitting. “Again, why did you bring her?”
“Brother, since when does she listen to anything I say? She was coming no matter what. I came so she wouldn’t be alone.”
“First, I am not a Goody Two-shoes. Every time I ever tried to do anything, one of you two cretins would stop me. Second, don’t yell at Jack. He was protecting me. He risked his career coming here!” Jack’s heart swelled at hearing her defend him to her brother.
“Great job at protecting her, dude. She was practically molested by those— Ow! What the fuck?” he said as Chrissy swung her right arm across the center console into the backseat and backhanded him across the chest, hard.
“That wasn’t his fault. Had you not been there in the first place, none of this would have happened. It’s your fault, Slade.”
“Do you realize that if you’d been caught, you would have been arrested? She’s already put out three thousand dollars for your bail—did you expect her to do that again?”
“She would’ve survived. She’s loaded. She’s a doctor.”
“No, I’m not loaded!” Her hands gripped the ste
ering wheel tightly. “Not even a little bit. Have you seen my car? Do you even know what I do for a living? No, you know what—don’t even bother answering that. We’re here.” She hit the brakes hard as she pulled into Jack’s driveway. “I don’t want to talk about it anymore. I guess I’ll perform a few more stupidectomies and then head on home tonight.” Jack could see Chrissy’s eyes tearing up, and his heart broke for her.
“Stupidect-what?” Slade asked.
“Stupidectomies. The irritating procedures by which I bandage up stupid people for doing stupid things. Oh, never mind. Just get out of the car.”
She jumped out of the car and slammed the door. Unsure of what to do, Jack headed across the lawn back to his house. “You,” she called, pointing at Jack. “Follow me.”
Obediently he followed her into the house she’d grown up in. “Both of you sit down here.” She pointed to the couch, then went up the stairs.
“You’re a dick,” Jack whispered to Slade.
“I feel like we’re in detention or something. She’s being overly dramatic. What a drama queen.”
“A drama queen who saved your ass. Again!”
Chrissy came back downstairs lugging her backpack and set it on the floor. “Both of you, shirts off.” She was in a don’t-mess-with-me mood, and neither of them let out a peep. They just obeyed orders. She looked over the rims of her glasses, back and forth between the bare chests. “You first, since there’s more blood.” She pointed to Slade, used her finger to slide the glasses back up her nose, and immediately got to work cleaning and bandaging. It was clear she wasn’t being gentle, because Slade winced and let out a number of expletives. When she finished, she turned to Jack. She looked up at him. But her gaze was different than when she had looked at him before. It was gentler. He noticed a scratch above her right eye by her hairline. He reached up to touch it, but she flinched and moved back.
“You’re cut,” said Jack.
“I’m fine. Don’t worry about me. Your hip wound reopened, again. Let me just change the dressing and bandage it up and then I’ll take a look at your nose and your eye.”
Against the Cage (Worth the Fight #1) Page 6