by Bryony Kayn
Jake pushed her hair out of her face with one unsteady hand and glared at Steve. She stepped away from the car, walking slowly toward Steve, not afraid—furious. “Fuck you, Steve,” she hissed, tossing her pack of smokes aside. “Grow up and deal with it, babe. I’ll dance with anyone I choose, and you can’t stop me.”
One of the things that hadn’t changed in the years that she’d been gone—Steve was still incredibly fast. He backhanded her, the strike coming so quickly she wasn’t able to avoid it. The knuckles and heavy ring on his right hand struck her right cheekbone, spinning her to the ground. “You’ll do what you’re told,” he growled, stalking toward her. “Do you hear me?” He leaned over, grasping her elbow in one hand, and jerked her back up onto her feet. “Do you?” he yelled.
She was dazed from the blow, but not completely out of it. He was only holding her left arm, so she sagged away from him, as if about to faint. When she had enough room, she lunged forward again, punching him as hard as she could. Her right fist connected with his jaw, and she bit back a cry as the skin across her knuckles split.
Steve’s head rocked back, and he nearly lost his hold on her. He shook his head, touching his jaw gingerly with his free hand and glared at her.
Jake yelped when he yanked her forward, twisted her around while she was off balance, and locked his arm across her throat. He tightened his grip, choking off her air, and she fought vainly to free herself. Her nails dug into his arm, drawing blood, but his grip never loosened. She fought to breathe, to turn her head enough to be able to bite, but his hold was too tight. Finally, desperately, she dropped her bloodied right hand down behind her. Steve wasn’t wearing tight jeans or even his leathers tonight. Instead, he was wearing loose cotton pants, the kind you wore on a boat or at the beach. Because of that, she was able to get a handful of what she was searching for. She dug her fingers into his scrotum, gripping as tightly as she was able, ignoring broken nails and throbbing knuckles as she twisted.
Steve grunted, exhaling in a rush of hot breath, and his chokehold immediately loosened at the sudden, intense pain. As the pressure on her throat released, Jake gulped in air, gasping and coughing as her compressed trachea tried to expand again. She didn’t relax her grip on him however. She turned inside his arm, her fist still clenched around his delicate tissues, and twisted harder, hatred making her bare her teeth in the parody of a smile.
“You don’t get to tell me what to do,” she said hoarsely, yanking and twisting as hard as she could.
Steve gave another harsh cry, and his knees buckled. Jake let go of him, stepping back as he hit the asphalt. He’d curled up on his side trying to protect his genitals from further attack, his face brick-red as he gasped for breath.
“I’m done, Steve. It’s over,” she said, so angry she felt like she was going to combust. “You’ll never touch me again, do you hear me?” The last few words were voiced in a raspy scream, and she kicked him.
Quick as a cat, Steve’s hand flashed out and caught her ankle. He jerked hard, and she fell flat on her back, knocking all the breath out of her.
“You’re mine, Jae. And you’ll do whatever I fucking tell you,” he said, getting slowly and painfully to his feet. He still had hold of her ankle. “You’re gonna learn that one way or another.” He turned and started across the back lot toward the far corner where he’d parked his car away from the lights. He dragged her behind him, ignoring her cries of pain. She kicked, struggling to free herself, but his hand was locked around her ankle. Finally, trying to ignore the agony in her back, she managed to kick the back of his knee with her free foot, making him stagger and fall to his knees.
She kicked him again, in the ass this time, and yanked hard with her right leg, managing at last to pull free. Without waiting, she scrambled to her feet and ran for the club.
Halfway there, Steve’s hand caught her long hair, jerking her backwards. Jake cried out, almost pulled off her feet, and turned back toward him. She slapped him across the face, leaving a smear of blood, trying only to get away from him.
“Knock it off,” Steve barked, catching her wrist, and swung at her with his right fist. She dodged, trying to avoid the blow; instead of striking her cheekbone, his fist caught her in the temple, and she dropped like a rock. “We’re going home now,” Steve said, his voice like ice. “And we’re going to come to an understanding. And you’re gonna stop fighting me, Jae. ’Cause I don’t want to hurt you, but I will if I have to.” He pulled her upright, bending to put his shoulder against her stomach, and lifted her.
Angel finished his drink and glanced at the clock. He’d seen Jake part from Nikky and head toward the back hallway, but if she’d been going for a smoke break, she should be back by now. He glanced toward the back of the club just in time to see Dana come running out of the hall.
“Jaime!” she yelled, and the broad, muscle-bound bouncer turned from his conversation with Juan to look at her. “Fight in the back lot. Hurry!”
“Shit,” Angel breathed and pushed through the crowd, following the barmaid and bouncer down the hallway to the service entrance. He reached the door before it bounced shut and slammed it open again as he came through. He stopped, shock and anger freezing him in place.
Steve stood halfway between the back of the building and the first row of employees’ cars with Jake tossed over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry. Jaime had stopped him and was trying to get him to put Jake down, but Steve wasn’t listening. In the meantime, Jake pounded her fists on Steve’s back and kicked her legs wildly, trying to get free.
“Steve!” Angel bellowed.
“Stay the fuck away from me, all of you!” Steve yelled, slapping Jake’s ass hard. “This is between me and Jae and has nothing to do with any of you.”
“Steve, stop being such a bastard and let her go,” Angel commanded.
“Fuck off,” Steve sneered and turned away from them to continue toward the end of the lot.
Jake was desperate. It was clear in the wild look in her eyes and the frantic way she fought to free herself. Kicking wasn’t doing any good and neither was pounding on his back with her fists. Carelessly, she wriggled to one side, wedging her elbow between her side and his neck, and shoved.
“Shit, she’s gonna fall,” Angel yelled, lurching forward as she slipped sideways over the curve of Steve’s shoulder. Steve tried to catch her but couldn’t, and she hit the ground with a jarring thud that made Angel wince.
“Jae,” Steve said, bending toward her, but Jaime took advantage and locked his arms around the other man’s chest, lifting Steve off his feet and swinging him away from her.
Jake scrambled away from both men, oblivious to the pain in palms and knees as she scraped them on the rough macadam. Angel caught her, lifting her to her feet, and felt tears burn the back of his eyes when he got a good look at her.
The right side of her face was already beginning to swell and darken, and there was a ragged cut along her cheekbone. Blood trickled from the corner of her mouth. The knuckles on her right hand were bleeding, and there was blood under her broken nails.
“Dana, call the police,” Jaime called to the barmaid, and she turned back toward the building.
“No,” Jake said, her voice raspy. Dana stopped, looking from Jake to Jaime and back, unsure of what to do. “I don’t want the cops involved.”
“Jake,” Angel pleaded.
“No,” she repeated, adamant. She pulled away from Angel and approached Steve, still held immobile by the immense bouncer. “I have to tell you something, and I want to be sure you’re listening. Are you listening?” she asked, an edge to her voice that had nothing to do with the hoarseness. “We’re done. It’s over. I’m not your girlfriend anymore, and as far as I’m concerned, you can go fuck yourself.”
“You belong to me,” Steve snarled, and she spat in his face.
“I don’t want you anymore, Steve,” she said plainly. “I will never let you to touch me again. Can I be any more clear?”
“J
ae,” Steve called as she turned her back on him. “It’ll never be over between us. We’ll never be done.”
“We’ll just see,” she said softly, then glanced at Jaime. “Put him in his car and make sure he leaves.”
The bouncer glanced at Angel, who nodded his assent. Then Jaime marched Steve to his car and let go of him.
Jake stood next to Angel as Steve got into his car, started the engine, and pulled slowly out of the lot. The last thing they saw of Steve was his dark eyes, glaring at her. Then he was gone.
“Oh God, Jake,” Dana said, covering her mouth.
Angel moved over, getting a look at Jake’s back, and clenched his teeth. At some point Steve must have dragged her along the asphalt. Her back was roadrashed, and the pretty satin top she wore was shredded and soaked with her blood.
Jake reached up dazedly, fingertips against her rapidly darkening left temple, and moaned. Without warning, either from the head trauma or from simple emotional reaction to everything that had happened, her stomach heaved. She turned to the side, letting her late lunch come up, and Angel held her gently, supporting her weight so she wouldn’t fall.
When there was nothing left to heave up, Jake stood shakily, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. Angel held her against him and looked at Dana.
“Go get Sly.”
She nodded and went back inside at a run.
“He fucked you up pretty good,” Jaime said, taking Jake’s right hand and inspecting her knuckles. “Looks like you got in a few licks of your own.”
“I should’ve brought my goddamn knives like I wanted to,” she said. Her voice was trashed, hoarse and breaking as she tried to talk, but Angel knew better than to tell her to stop.
Then Sly appeared, his lips pressed together angrily when he got a good look at Jake. He just nodded when Angel said he was taking her home. He asked Angel to call the next day and update him on how she was doing. Then Angel helped her walk around the corner of the building to where his car was parked.
“I’m gonna ruin your seats,” Jake protested, feeling as though there was ground glass in her throat.
“I don’t give a shit about the seats, little girl. Get in.”
Finally she did as he said and sat sideways in the seat. She wanted to lean her head against the headrest, but it hurt too much. Angel went around to get in the driver’s seat, nodding his thanks to Jaime for the escort before starting the engine.
When he pulled out of the lot, Angel turned the opposite direction from the way to his house. “Where are we going?” Jake asked.
“I’m taking you to the hospital,” he replied.
“No,” she said stubbornly. “I don’t need to go to a fucking hospital. Just take me home.”
“I’m taking you to the ER, and that’s all there is to it,” he stated evenly. “You’ve got asphalt imbedded in your back, and for all I know you could have a fractured skull. I want you to get checked out to make sure you’re really okay.”
She closed her eyes wearily. “They’re gonna want to call the cops, Angel-mine. I don’t think we can pass this off as a trip and fall.” No matter what, she couldn’t get the police involved. Steve had known from the beginning that she’d never turn him in because she had too much to lose. Running from her own sordid past had put her under his control, but she was done with all of that now.
“I don’t give a shit,” Angel said firmly. “We’ll tell them anything you want, but I am taking you to the hospital.”
Tears streaked her face, and she fought to control the sobs that wanted to come. “I hate him,” she whispered, her voice giving out, and she covered her face with one bloody hand. “I fucking hate him.”
When Jake awoke the next day, she found her face streaked with drying tears and her pillow damp. She sat up slowly and groaned. Her head pounded dully, and her back burned and stung.
They’d spent several hours at the emergency room the night before. About an hour of that time had been the agonizing process of having her back scrubbed ruthlessly and bits of rock and other debris removed painstakingly with tweezers. Angel had insisted on a skull X-ray, which had proved she had a hard head. The doctor suspected a concussion, but there was no fracture. In fact, there were no broken bones at all, amazingly enough. The cut on her cheek was shallow and did not require stitches, so after cleaning it thoroughly, the doctor pulled it closed with butterfly tape.
The rest of her injuries were simple scrapes and bruises, but she felt as though every inch of her body was bruised or scraped. Her upper back, while not as roadrashed, was badly bruised from when Steve had yanked her off her feet. Her right shoulder and hip were also black and blue from when she’d fallen off his shoulder to the ground.
Now, with a series of moans and groans, she swung her legs off the bed and hobbled stiffly into her bathroom. The sight of her own face in the mirror was enough to bring fresh tears to her eyes. The right side of her face was discolored and swollen from temple to jaw. Right in the middle of the huge bruise was the shallow cut from Steve’s ring, held closed by white butterfly bandages. Her left temple was also bruised and swollen, the bruise extending into her hair line. Her left eye was swollen and beginning to blacken as well, but at least it wasn’t swelling shut. A lighter bruise crossed her throat, just below her voice box. No wonder it hurt to swallow or try to talk. She was lucky Steve hadn’t crushed her trachea when he’d had her in that chokehold.
She turned to the side, looking at the bruises and scrapes on her right shoulder and arm; her hip and thigh were also discolored, but her jeans had saved her skin somewhat. She thought about looking at her back, then decided against it. It was covered in a large bandage taped to her skin, and even if she could remove it herself, she’d never be able to re-cover it without help.
With a conscious effort, she forced herself to stand upright, and slowly went into her closet to find something to wear. Looking at her choices, she gave a harsh laugh that made her cough painfully as she pulled on a pair of Steve’s cotton drawstring shorts that he’d left there and a loose tank top that actually belonged to Angel. The arm holes of the shirt hung open to her waist, but she didn’t care. The thought of wearing anything that would put any pressure on her was enough to make her skin crawl.
She thought about dragging a brush through her tangled hair, then decided a nice ’do wasn’t going to improve her looks any. She walked slowly down the hallway, making herself stand upright and walk without limping. Every muscle in her body ached and throbbed, but the only way to loosen them up was to use them.
When she exited the hallway, the first thing she saw was Spyk staring at her. All the color had drained from the other woman’s face, and her blue eyes glittered with anger.
“Good news,” Jake said, her voice husky and low. “I broke up with Steve.”
“That fucking dick,” Spyk hissed and crossed the living room to Jake. She looked like she wanted to put her arms around Jake but hesitated, unsure of where it might be safe to touch.
“Please don’t,” Jake murmured, holding her hands up. “I appreciate the thought. But I hurt everywhere.” Even the palms of her hands were abraded from scrambling across the macadam.
“Someone should rip his goddamn balls off,” Spyk grated, her teeth clenched as she took in the damage that he’d done.
Jake chuckled, even that sounding raspy. “I tried, but I don’t think I succeeded.”
Angel came into the room then from the hallway leading to the master suite. He was on his cell phone and shook his head when he saw Jake. “No, she’s up now. I’m gonna let you go.” He paused for a moment, his eyes never leaving Jake’s battered face. “You’re welcome to come over, man. But if he shows up over here, I’m gonna kick his ass all the way back to San Diego.” He smiled and nodded. “Okay, Marlo. See you in a bit.” He ended the call and dropped his phone into the pocket of his pants, coming across the room to Jake. “Did you get some sleep?” he asked, concern obvious in his deep voice.
She nodded. Sh
e’d slept like she’d been knocked out, but had dreamed the fight over and over until she felt as though she’d been fighting all night. “Please tell me there’s some coffee,” she whispered.
“I’ll get you some,” Spyk said, going into the kitchen.
Angel gingerly took Jake’s left arm and walked with her into the breakfast nook. The blinds had been closed, so it was bright but not blinding. He pulled out a chair for her and watched as she cautiously sat down. “I don’t know if you remember,” he said gently, sitting next to her. “But I filled your prescription last night at the hospital. Do you want a couple?”
“At this point, a handful would be welcome,” she said, vaguely remembering Angel buying the pain pills the doctor had prescribed for her. At Angel’s sharp look she smiled, immediately regretting it as her bruised face and the cut on her cheek protested. “Don’t worry, Angel-mine,” she said, putting her hand on his arm. “I’m not suicidal. Just miserable.”
He sighed, the anguish in his clear green eyes evident. “Steve called this morning. He wanted to talk to you.”
Jake closed her eyes, wanting but not wanting to know what he’d said.
“I told him to stay away from here and from you,” Angel went on, a harsh note entering his voice. “I told him how bad he messed you up, and he kept saying he was sorry. But when I finally made it clear to him that he’s not welcome here, he told me to give you a message.”
“What?” Jake whispered, nodding her thanks to Spyk when the other woman set a cup of steaming coffee before her.
Angel’s mouth was pressed tight, as though he’d gotten a taste of something bitter. But his voice was gentle when he answered her. “He said to tell you to stay away from Nikky. Apparently he called Nikky last night and told him to stay clear of you. He said if Nikky comes anywhere near you, he’s going to beat the shit out of both of you.”
“Could it be any worse than this?” Spyk asked caustically, sitting on Jake’s other side.