Against the Cage (Worth the Fight #1)

by Sidney Halston

  Dennis crawled backward, stood up, and then foolishly granted Jack’s wish. Jack dropped his hand to allow the punch, actually welcoming it, because it meant he could tack on charges of resisting arrest and battery against a law enforcement officer. Plus there was the even bigger bonus of being able to kick the crap out of Dennis and justify it as self-defense. Normally Jack didn’t need to go to such lengths to find a fight, but he really wanted to teach this dirtbag a lesson.

  The punch stung and caused Jack’s lip to start bleeding, but it was nothing compared to what he’d felt from professional fighters. One jab and one uppercut later, and Dennis lay on the floor in the fetal position. Effortlessly Jack flipped Dennis over onto his stomach, grabbed both his arms forcefully, and cuffed him. He pulled Dennis up by his upper arm, dragged him to the police cruiser, and took him straight to jail.

  When Jack arrived with a bloody lip and the mayor’s nephew in cuffs, everyone stared. But Jack couldn’t care less. He filled out the proper paperwork and happily threw Dennis into a cell. By that time the mayor was there and yelling at the top of his lungs.

  “Who did this? My nephew was beaten up. This is police brutality.” Mayor Stavros slammed his fists on the police chief’s desk.

  “I don’t think so, Mayor. Look at my officer. He is clearly seriously hurt.” Chief Lyon sat casually in his chair, arms folded over his chest and his legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles.

  The mayor snapped his head around. Obviously he hadn’t noticed Jack.

  Jack played his injuries up. “Ow! Yes. Busted lip,” he said, indicating his slightly swollen and barely bleeding lip.

  “Please. You expect me to believe this?”

  “Believe what you will, Stavros, but I have a young lady in the hospital with broken ribs, a broken nose, and black-and-blue marks all over her body. Not to mention that she gave a formal statement of what occurred between your upstanding nephew and Slade Martin. I will not have my town run by crooked politicians or crooked cops. This ends today. Oh, and, Mayor Stavros, I want you to meet our new internal affairs head, Lieutenant Daniels. He will also be investigating public corruption cases. I suggest you keep your family in check from here on out. Now, if you’ll please excuse us, Lieutenant Daniels and I have work to do.”

  The mayor stormed out of the office, but not before he’d shouted, “This doesn’t end here!”

  The chief stood up, looking menacing. “Are you threatening me, Mayor Stavros?”

  “You bet your ass, Chief Lyon!” He slammed the door.

  The chief waved his arm dismissively. “Don’t listen to him, Jack. Don’t ever let him intimidate you. He doesn’t have as much power as he thinks he does, so long as we don’t sink to his level. Remember one thing, Lieutenant Daniels, if you walk the straight and narrow, they can never blackmail you or coerce you into doing something you don’t agree with.”

  “Thank you, sir. I have to admit, it felt good arresting that asshole.”

  The chief laughed. “I’m sure it did. He deserved it. Take the rest of the day off. Clean yourself up. Go get that cut on your lip checked out, and let your buddy know that Jessica gave a statement and he’s off the hook.”

  The chief looked back down at his screen and started typing something up. Apparently Jack was being dismissed.

  He’d gotten a hell of a promotion. Arrested an asshole. Gotten Slade cleared of all the charges. And gotten a few hits in on a man who completely deserved it. For all intents and purposes, it should have been a great day. But he still hadn’t heard from Chrissy, and he was worried.

  He drove straight to Slade’s house. Somewhere in his mind, he had hoped to find Chrissy’s car parked there. But it wasn’t. He knocked on the door, and Slade opened it. Drogo barked in the background.

  “Nothing on Chrissy?” Jack asked as he walked right in.

  “Nope. I have to admit, I’m starting to get worried. Where the hell is she? And what happened to your face? And please take your fucking dog with you next time. I swear, he hates me.”

  “Drogo hates everyone. Except Chrissy. He loves Chrissy. Anyway, I have some news.” Jack began recounting the events that had transpired between Jessica and Dennis and how Dennis had been arrested. “So you’re off the hook,” he concluded.

  “Thanks to Jessica. I’m glad you were there, man. If I’d seen Dennis, I’d have killed him. I gotta go see her.” Slade looked physically ill at the thought of Jessica being hurt.

  “No, it’s not all thanks to Jessica. It’s thanks to Chrissy too. She risked her safety last night to go talk to Jessica. Not only about getting your charges cleared, but to help Jessica get out of the abusive relationship.”

  “What?”

  “Yeah. She went to that bar in the middle of the night to help your sorry ass stay out of jail. She also went to help Jessica get away from Dennis.”

  “Shit. I didn’t know. She shouldn’t have gotten involved. Why would she do something so reckless?”

  “You really are an asshole.” Jack took a step closer to his best friend. “You are her concern. She loves you. She feels guilty about your father’s death. Did you know that? The guilt is killing her. The things you said to her at the funeral—she has to live with them every day. She would do anything to help you. And how do you repay her? By being a self-centered douchebag.”

  “Guilty? Why does she feel guilty? The funeral? I have no idea what the hell you’re talking about.”

  “She told me, Slade. She told me everything that happened with Brian, with your dad, with you. I’m so fucking pissed off that you never told me about Brian. And I’m even more pissed off that you didn’t stop her from leaving all those years ago. Your father’s death wasn’t her fault. I can’t believe you blamed her for it. She needed you. You needed her.”

  “I don’t blame her! I never blamed her. Jack, I never asked her to leave. She left on her own. I’ve always thought it was because this house reminded her of our father, or maybe because she was disappointed in how I live my life or something. I wish she would’ve stayed. Damn it! Why would she think I blame her? I can’t believe that’s what she thinks.”

  Jack nodded. “She told me that at the funeral you told her all sorts of fucked-up shit, like that she should’ve called you the first time Brian hit her and that she should’ve called you, not your dad, as soon as she came back to town, because she knew that his temper would lead to tragedy. You called her selfish and flat-out said your father’s death was her fault. That’s cruel, dude.”

  “I was fucking drunk! I don’t remember anything that happened that day. I was upset, I felt alone, and she was so set on leaving, which made me feel even more alone. If I did say something stupid like that, she had to know I didn’t mean it. Son of a motherfucker! We have to find her,” Slade said anxiously.

  “That’s what I’ve been telling you, idiot!” Jack replied, irritated.

  It was early morning when Chrissy finally reached her little apartment in Miami. Since she had left her things, including her phone charger, in Tarpon Springs, her phone’s battery had died after she’d been on the road for only an hour. She wondered if anyone had even noticed she was gone. She had run away, just like she had eleven years ago, but she had her reasons. Her heart was at stake.

  It was a good decision. It was the right decision. Utterly exhausted, she threw herself on her bed and went to sleep.

  It was late afternoon when she stumbled out of bed. First order of business: go buy a phone charger. Second order of business: contact Miami West Hospital and formally accept the job.

  Her heart was heavy, and she couldn’t understand why. Not even when she had left all those years ago—after her father’s death, after being abused by Brian, after leaving Slade—had she felt this type of loss. Yes, the death of her father had hurt. It had taken her years to recover, and to be honest, she’d never be the same, but she also knew that his actual death had been out of her hands. An act of God. But this—leaving Jack—had been all on her. She had made t
hat decision. It wasn’t just losing him, it was … more. Had she made a huge mistake? Could she ever be as happy with any other man as she was with Jack? Even if it had been only a few days, the way she felt in those days with Jack was the happiest she remembered ever feeling. But, like she always did, she put all her feelings aside, closed and locked the steel cage around her heart, and dove into work. She needed to move on and think about her future, not Tarpon Springs.

  After buying a phone charger, she went to the HR department of the hospital. She sat in a small waiting area, her mind once again drifting to Jack. What was it about him? He had always looked at her as his kid sister. He had always been as irritating as her brother, except cuter. He’d been a menace back then. When he and Slade weren’t fighting in organized backyard brawls, they were involved in school fights, sometimes as part of the wrestling team and sometimes not. They were always in trouble for one thing or another. Now, though, the people he fought signed up for it. And even though he was a fighter, he was also a police officer who helped people on a daily basis.

  Jack was a different guy now. The decade since she’d last seen him had changed him. He was a man now, and he certainly didn’t treat her as a kid sister. But she hadn’t been in love with him back then. If anything, it was a silly adolescent puppy love. And Jack? He certainly hadn’t been in love with her back then, and he wasn’t now.

  “Dr. Martin?”

  A middle-aged woman greeted her, taking Chrissy out of her thoughts. “Yes, that’s me.”

  “I’m Margie, director of HR for Miami West. Please, come into my office.” Margie led Chrissy into a big executive office, where they chatted a little bit about the terms of her employment. Within twenty minutes, Chrissy was walking out with a stack of papers to fill out. She’d read everything, and if all the terms were to her liking, she’d sign the packet and start working at Miami West within the month.

  When she arrived back home, she gracelessly plopped herself on her couch to read the huge stack of papers. The salary was great, the benefits even better. Everything seemed to be perfect. She’d be working in the very well-known trauma center of Miami West, one of the top five trauma centers in the world. It would be very unlike her previous jobs, where she’d gone all over the world caring for the less fortunate, sometimes having to get creative with her techniques and the medicines she used. But in the ER she’d still be doing what she loved—caring for people in an adrenaline-fueled atmosphere. Just with state-of-the-art equipment rather than moonshine and a pocketknife.

  Chrissy looked around her small apartment. It was furnished with the basics; barely any personal items. Most of her time had been spent traveling instead of making a home for herself. She let her gaze wander to the mismatched china stacked by the sink, the coffee table piled with old magazines and bills, the big wooden trunk she had bought at a garage sale—perhaps the one piece of furniture she actually liked. There was an entertainment center that housed a small television. Above the television, on the shelf, she kept a few bottles of liquor, including some wine, scotch, and vodka, along with some of her nicer glasses, mostly for company.

  She sat up abruptly. She’d had an epiphany like a bolt of lightning. She walked to the shelf and snatched up the small bottle of Jack Daniel’s that was behind a stainless-steel cocktail shaker. She looked at it intently and pressed it against her chest. Her heart skipped. She felt like an idiot holding a glass bottle of amber liquor like it was a lifeline. Was what she did for a living really that different from what Jack did? Granted, he hurt people and she cured them. But the underlying reason they did it was for the thrill. Neither was the type to be stuck behind a desk from nine to five twiddling their thumbs. They thrived on action, on stress. The halls of the ER were her boxing arena, as were the makeshift tents in battle-scarred or poverty-stricken countries when she was overseas. Damn, she had been a judgmental fool. Deep down she knew that he’d never hurt her, at least not physically. The question was: was he worth the fight?

  She closed her eyes and tried to picture a life with Jack. It wasn’t hard. It involved lots and lots of sex. There were worse options.

  Jack was not Brian. She was not a love-struck teenager following Jack if she decided to decline the job offer in Miami. Even if things didn’t work out with Jack—and God, she hoped they did, because she didn’t know how she would ever recover from a blow like that—Tarpon Springs had been her home, Slade lived there, and that’s where she needed to be. Where she wanted to build her home and put down roots. With the crazies like Esther and Melinda, with the rumor mill that spread stories like wildfire, with the friendly neighbors who remembered your birthday and baked you a pie on Christmas. There was nothing for her in Miami except a job opportunity. It was time to stop running away from her problems, which was exactly what she would be doing if she accepted the job. Eleven years ago she had run away, but she wouldn’t make the same mistake twice. Slade was owed a big talk. She needed to make amends. But even more than that, she needed to follow her heart. She needed Jack. She was in love with him, and she needed to go claim her man.

  Just as quickly as she’d left Tarpon Springs the night before, she jumped out the door and left Miami. She needed to speak with Slade and Jack even if it was a fool’s mission; she couldn’t accept this job until she set things straight. This time she had packed a few more items, stuffed her uncharged cell phone, the unopened charger, and the small bottle of Jack Daniel’s in her oversized purse, and hurried out to her car.

  “Do you know her address? Maybe she went back to Miami,” Jack said to Slade.

  “No, man. All I know is that she moved recently, after returning from India. I have no clue where she lives in Miami. Do you think she went back?”

  “Dude, you need to keep better tabs on your sister.”

  “I know, man. I’m just starting to realize that. I’m a self-centered asshole.”

  “I’m not arguing with you about that,” Jack replied. “Shit, man, I don’t know.” Jack ran his hands across his face and rubbed his head. He was pacing back and forth. “I fucked up, dude. I shouldn’t have let her go. I should have told her the truth. Why did I listen to you?”

  “Don’t blame me for this, brother. This is all on you. Anyway, she would’ve gone, regardless. Chrissy is stubborn. There’s no convincing her once she’s made up her mind.”

  “It must run in the Martin genes.” Jack continued pacing around his house, unable to keep still for a second. “I’m in love with her, Slade.”

  Slade placed his hand on his best friend’s shoulder. “I know that, brother. I’ve known that for a long time.”

  “Fuck it. I’m going. Watch Drogo for me.” He threw the front door open.

  “Where are you going?”

  “I’m going to find her. Promise me you’ll call if you hear from her.”

  “I’m going with you,” said Slade.

  “No, you’re not. Someone needs to stay here and call me if she comes back or if she calls.”

  “Fine. But let me know if you find her. What are you going to do? Drive down to Miami and then wander around aimlessly shouting her name?”

  “I’ll knock on every door if that’s what it takes.” Jack was rubbing his head as if that would keep it from exploding. He was a nervous wreck.

  Chapter 13

  “No. No. No!” Chrissy slammed her fists against the steering wheel. Déjà vu. Except worse, because this time it was raining.

  She was still two hours away from Tarpon Springs. She dragged a jacket from the backseat, draped it over her head to shield her from the rain, and got out of her car. This time there was no flat tire; her car had just died. And she didn’t even have a working cell phone. It was already eleven-thirty at night, and it was dark. She was in the middle of nowhere. The Everglades were to the right of the two-lane highway, a sea of mangroves and sawgrass to the left. She had two options. One: she could start walking in the torrential rain. It would take her hours to find help. There were also alligators lurking by th
e mangroves. Imagine, getting eaten by an alligator—no one would ever find her body. She hated reptiles. She started envisioning herself being mauled by a creature of the night. Or she could get hit by a car walking at night by the side of the road. Not to mention the crazies who abducted helpless women.

  Option two: wait it out. She’d start walking tomorrow at daylight. She didn’t have water or food and she was starved, but there really wasn’t much of a decision to make. First she locked the doors. Then she grabbed her oversized purse and flipped it upside down over the passenger seat, spilling its contents out, to see what goodies she could find in the mess. She was happy to see a chocolate bar and a small bag of peanuts hidden in the mess. See, a messy purse did have its perks! Luckily, she also had Jack Daniel’s. Unfortunately, it wasn’t the flesh-and-bones man she loved and craved, but at least she had the bitter amber liquid to keep her hydrated. Or that’s what she told herself, anyway. Why didn’t she have a bottle of water in her purse? She seemed to have everything else, for goodness sake! So she reclined her seat, cracked a window for ventilation, and took a bite of the dark chocolate and a swig of Jack.

  And then bright lights flooded the inside of her car and the smell of tires rubbing against asphalt assaulted her, followed by pain and then darkness …

  Jack lost count as to how many times he had called her while he drove. The messages he left her ranged from desperate to angry. He was still cringing over one particular sappy message in which he’d professed his love. He hoped it wasn’t too much too soon, but he had to make sure she knew his feelings. But she didn’t call.

  About two hours into the drive his heart stopped. Between flashes of lightning, he saw a car on the other side of the road on the opposite lane of the street. It was hard to see because there were no streetlights and the rain was now coming down hard. But he could tell it was Chrissy’s car. Her car was unmistakable. It was the shittiest car he’d ever seen. Note to self: Buy Chrissy a new car with the money I won from the fight—ASAP!