Jax the Killer

by Laura Day

Jax

  Jax could see the dust swirling around him with new energy every time he hit the punching bag in front of him. He could feel the sweat pooling at his feet and dripping down his face and chest, but he ignored the stinging in his eyes and pushed himself harder.

  The moment he felt the need to sit back and breathe, he gritted his teeth and kept going. Jax could feel the burning sensation flow through his limbs. It was as though he were on fire, and as much as it hurt, there was a sense of relief and exhilaration that came with it. The pain he felt somehow reminded him that he was alive; it reminded him that, in order to survive, he could not be afraid to fight.

  He could see Evan out of the blurry corner of his eye. Ignoring him, Jax turned away from the punching bag and dropped to his hands and feet to start a round of push-ups. Once he had reached a hundred, he forced one hand behind his back and started a new round of one-handed push-ups. He could see the sweat dripping off his brow, forming a little puddle on the floor in front of him. Every time he lowered himself down, he could see his own reflection staring back at him. His blue eyes looked grey and his expression looked desperate, but he concentrated on the number in his head and nothing else.

  He could feel the fire course through his side, but again, he ignored the sensation and started on a round of pull-ups. It was the strangest juxtaposition that Jax had ever come across, but it never failed to amaze him. He could never understand how he could feel so strong and so weak at the same time. Every time he questioned whether or not he could continue, he dug down deep to that dark place inside him where his anger was a vast and limitless source of energy.

  He was on his fifty-third pull-up when he spotted Maple across the rundown gym near the bathrooms. She had pulled her hair back into a knot at the nape of her neck. Her face was on full display, as was the prominent red scar that jagged down along the left side of her face. Even from a distance, it couldn’t be mistaken for anything other than a scar. She was wearing a pair of beige pants and a white t-shirt, over which she had thrown what looked like an apron so that she wouldn’t stain her clothes.

  There was a serenity that seemed to surround her—even when she worked. She kept her head down, and she worked diligently without ever getting in anyone’s way. She attempted even the most sordid jobs without hesitation or disgust. There was only the single-minded need to get it done and get it done well. She cleaned the bathroom stalls, wiped down grease-stained counters, and scraped off the muck that clung to the walls—and she did it all without any sense of self-imposed degradation. Jax could not begin to describe how much he admired her for that.

  It was a strange new experience for Jax, having Maple in his life. He was used to flitting from one woman to the next. He didn’t keep track of names or numbers, and after a while their features blurred and they just became another ship in the night. Since he had met Maple, he had come to know her; a part of him had even come to understand her. That understanding had lent itself to their physical relationship, and instead of making things less exciting, it had only enhanced the experience.

  Jax found himself thinking about Maple so often that at first it had scared him. She was always in the back of his mind, a shadow that cast rays of unexpected brightness. He would replay little moments in his head. Small things, like the way she tilted her head to the side when she was listening intently, or the way she smiled when she first caught sight of him. They had only really known each other for a week, but there were times when it felt so much longer.

  Realizing he had lost count, Jax did one more pull-up before he jumped to the ground and reached for his face towel. He had just wiped the sweat from his brow when he noticed the small group of men who had just entered the gym. Leading the pack was a tall, muscular man with thin, blond hair and dark, darting eyes. Jax felt his blood boil instantly, but he willed himself to keep calm as they approached.

  “Conor,” Jax said with open hatred. “What are you doing here?”

  “I came to see you,” Conor said with narrowed eyes. “We have so much to settle.”

  Jax let his eyes fall to the men standing behind Conor. They had been with him the night of their impromptu bar fight, as well. They were both big and burly, perfect clichés of what two club bouncers would look like.

  “I think we already settled it,” Jax said pointedly. “And I believe I won.”

  Conor’s face darkened visibly. “That wasn’t a proper fight.”

  “No?” Jax asked condescendingly. “It was called a street fight. If you don’t have the balls for it, I suggest next time, you sit it out.”

  “I’m not the sitting-out type,” Conor hissed. “Which is why I’m here.”

  “Spit it out then.”

  “I’m here to challenge you to a formal fight next week.”

  Jax raised his eyebrows. “Where?”

  “Here,” Conor said immediately. “I’m willing to give you the home court advantage.”

  Jax laughed without humor. “I’m not the one who needs the advantage.”

  “Trust me,” Conor said threateningly. “You will.”

  Jax stared at Conor, trying to decide if punching him right now was worth it. It was impossible to look at his face and not see his sister staring back at him. He could smell her blood; he could see her terrified and trembling; and he could feel his own horror, as he had taken in the sight of his once beautiful sister, reduced to a broken shell that was constantly looking over her shoulder.

  “We’ll see,” Jax said.

  “Does that mean you accept my challenge?” Conor asked.

  “It does,” Jax nodded.

  “Excellent,” Conor said. His tone was thick with anticipation. “I look forward to it.”

  “Don’t,” Jax spat.

  Conor smiled, displaying his teeth. “Next Saturday at nine o’clock.”

  Jax nodded, and Conor turned away while his stooges followed suit. He turned back abruptly, as though he had just remembered something. “Ask Jodie to come watch. I’m sure she’ll love to see you beaten to a pulp, and I haven’t seen her in a long time.”

  With his fists clenched, Jax was about to fly forward to deal with Conor right then and there, but out of nowhere, Evan was in front of him blocking his path. By the time Jax looked back up, Conor and his crew had disappeared, but the sound of their laughter was still ringing in his ears.

  “Jax.” Evan’s voice was cautious.

  “Don’t.”

  “This is not a good idea and you know it,” Evan said, as gently as he could manage.

  Jax turned away from him. “That motherfucker needs to be taught a lesson. And I’m the only one who can do it.”

  “That’s ego talking.”

  “It’s common sense,” Jax shot back.

  “No, you’re dressing it up as common sense,” Evan said firmly. “You need to stop thinking from a place of rage and start thinking from a place of reason.”

  “It’s a formal fight, Evan,” Jax said through gritted teeth. “It’s no different from what I do every day.”

  “This is different,” Evan insisted. “The two of you have a personal vendetta against each other. Which means the rules won’t matter to either one of you when you’re in that ring. The point of the MMA is to fight a good fight, not to kill your opponent to make a point.”

  “To make a point?” Jax repeated in outrage. “He nearly killed my sister!”

  “And he’s a sadistic fucking asshole,” Evan nodded vigorously. “I agree, a hundred percent. All I’m saying is that there has to be a better way to deal with him.”

  “At the moment, I can’t see a better way,” Jax said.

  “Jax,” Evan said slowly. “This guy...he’s baiting you...he’s trying to drag you into his own personal hell. Don’t let him win.”

  “Oh, don’t worry,” Jax said with narrowed eyes. “I don’t intend to let him win.”

  Evan sighed in frustration. “You’ve been through a lot, kid,” he said. “And you’ve come a long way. Why would you let your
self get pulled back into that world?”

  “Because it’s the right thing to do,” Jax insisted.

  “No, it’s not,” Evan shook his head. “You’re not thinking rationally right now. All you’re thinking of is revenge. Don’t let that blind you.”

  “I’m doing this, Evan,” Jax said with finality. “With or without you, but to be completely honest, I’d rather do it with you.”

  Evan looked down and shook his head. “I guess I have no choice then.”

  Maple

  He had told her to stay in his apartment, and Maple couldn’t deny that she was sorely tempted, but she had turned him down all the same. It had taken her a long time to wean herself off her dependence on Ryan, and she was not about to fall into the trap again.

  Under no circumstances did she think that Jax was anything like Ryan, but this was more about her than anyone else. Yes, she lived in a car, and yes, she worked in a crappy, underground, illegal MMA gym, but the car was completely and totally hers, and the job she had secured all on her own. Despite everything, a small part of her was proud of that.

  Maple had woken up that morning in the cramped space of her backseat feeling strangely invigorated, despite a night of restless sleep. She brushed her teeth in the alley adjacent to where the car was parked and slipped on a pair of pants and one of her more comfortable t-shirts before heading off to work.

  When she got to the gym, Jax was already there lifting weights. Every time he pulled his arm forward, it threw the curve of his bicep into sharp relief. She stood in the corner observing him for a moment. His body was covered in Samoan tribal tattoos, and with the force of his movements and the sweat glistening off his body, it almost looked like they were moving. His head was completely shaved, the only part of him, apart from his face that was free of ink, but Maple was glad of that because there was nothing to compete with the brilliant blue of his eyes.

  Maple turned her eyes away from him and moved into the bathroom to start her round of chores. She had soaped up the counters, and she was about to get to work with the scrub brush when she was distracted suddenly by her own reflection. Her eyes were big, brown, and almond-shaped, but no one would notice their beauty with the angry red scar that scaled down her face, dominating everyone’s attention. Maple sighed at her reflection.

  There were moments when Maple actually felt inferior when she stood next to Jax. They had been walking down the street the day before, and she had noticed how women craned their necks in his direction. Their eyes would scale up his body and a smile of appreciation would automatically appear. He never appeared to notice, but Maple knew he was too much of a gentleman to let on even if he did. He was so tall and well built, so carelessly good looking that there were moments when her deficiencies were made more obvious.

  Maple didn’t have any of his easy confidence or his unconscious charm, she was extremely aware of herself, awkward in public places, and sometimes her nervousness brought out her clumsy side. So it amazed her that someone like Jax could find something interesting about her, but what amazed her most was that in his arms, she could forget that she wasn’t beautiful.

  Maple turned away from her reflection and focused on the grimy counters of the bathroom, shaking her head at how quickly the dirt built up. She cleaned the bathrooms daily and still, but it didn’t seem to make one iota of difference. Once she was done with the restrooms, she took out the trash. It took her nearly an hour to separate the actual trash from the recyclables, and once it was done, she had to nip back into the bathrooms to clean off the grime and sweat. As she passed the open gym, she noticed Jax doing an impressive amount of one-handed pull-ups.

  She took a short moment to admire him before she slipped to the cupboards to retrieve her mop and pail. She was just about to start on the far section of the gym when she saw Conor walking down its steps with two burly men at his back. She straightened herself as her eyes darted to Jax. He was looking at Conor with daggers in his eyes, and Maple had the urge to run between them.

  She was too far away to hear what they were saying, so she slipped closer. Her heart was beating so rapidly that for a long time that was the only sound ringing around in her ears. A part of her knew it was dangerous to be so invested, but she was also aware that certain things were beyond her control at this point. No matter what she did, she would never be able to stop caring about Jax.

  “Does that mean you accept my challenge?” Conor asked, his voice had that slimy quality about it that reminded Maple of Ryan.

  “It does,” Jax nodded. The sharp square of his jaw was made more prominent when he was angry. Somehow, even his tattoos looked more formidable. It was as though his mood affected his appearance.

  “Excellent,” Conor said. Maple could sense the anticipation in his voice, which lay just above that egotistical need to prove himself the stronger fighter. “I look forward to it.”

  “Don’t,” Jax spat.

  Conor shot Jax a menacing smile. “Next Saturday at nine o’clock.”

  Maple felt her insides churn. She didn’t want him to fight; she felt the grappling hooks of fear attach themselves to her stomach. She knew what Conor’s challenge really meant. It was a way for the two of them to hash out all the hatred between them. It was a means to exact revenge under the pretense of sportsmanship. Conor was simply exploiting the nature of the fight to heal his wounded pride and destroy Jax in a place that was sentimental to him.

  She saw Conor turn back to Jax with a cruel smile on his face. “Ask Jodie to come watch. I haven’t seen her in a long time.”

  Maple was about to move to Jax in an attempt to hold him back, but Evan beat her to the punch. She stayed where she was, as Evan kept Jax from tearing over to Conor and starting the fight early. She breathed a sigh of relief, as Conor and his goons disappeared up the stairs, and she prayed that Evan would talk some sense into Jax.

  There was no part of Maple that thought fighting Conor was a good idea. She knew better than most what Jax was feeling. She understood that he had the need to hurt Conor the same way Conor had hurt his sister. She understood that Jax felt as though he needed to be punished for all that he had done, but she also knew from experience that hurting Conor would never cure his sister’s pain. She would still be the same broken young woman, and her process of healing had nothing to do with Conor at all.

  Maple thought back to those dark moments when she had finally gotten away from Ryan. Once the dust had settled and Maple had been clean long enough to see her life clearly, she had loathed Ryan with such potency that she had dreamed of all the ways she could exact her revenge on him. They had only ever been dreams because she knew she would never go through with any of it, but the idea of seeing him suffer gave her some measure of relief while she tried to sort out the desperate state that her life had culminated in.

  After a while, however, Maple started to realize the truth on her own. Her life could never be determined by anyone other than herself. She alone was capable of pulling herself out of the hole or digging herself deeper into it. Whether Ryan got away with everything he had done to her or not, she had to take responsibility for her life and make good choices. Once she pushed Ryan’s image from the forefront of her mind, it became easier to let go of all the heavy feelings that came with it. She let go of the anger and the hurt and the sense of betrayal, and she realized suddenly, even though she may not necessarily have been happier, she was at the very least, lighter.

  “You’re not thinking rationally right now.” Maple heard Evan try to convince Jax. “All you’re thinking of is revenge. Don’t let that blind you.”

  “I’m doing this, Evan,” Jax said stubbornly. “With or without you, but to be completely honest, I’d rather do it with you.”

  Maple saw the Evan shake his head with an expression that told her he knew it was pointless to argue with Jax. “I guess I have no choice then,” he said finally.

  Jax nodded. “Good,” he said ending the conversation, as Evan walked away from him.

&n
bsp; Maple came up to Jax, trying to keep her expression clean of worry. “Jax,” she said softly.

  He turned to her as though he hadn’t heard her approach. “Oh...Maple...sorry, I didn’t hear you.”

  “Thinking about your fight?” she asked, trying to keep her tone neutral.

  “I have to fight him, Maple,” Jax said, as though it were important to him to explain the reason he needed to do this. “For my sister. I have to do this.”

  Looking at Jax, Maple saw the same sense of anger and hopelessness she had once experienced after she had left Ryan. She saw the desperation in his eyes; she saw the darkness there—and it frightened her. It frightened her because she knew it would not save him from the pain he was trying to run from. She had been there herself, and it had only made her angrier and bitter.

  She wanted to say that to him. She wanted him to know that she knew what he felt, and it still wasn’t worth it. She wanted to tell him that the best thing he could do was to simply walk away and live his life, because as long as he chased after revenge, Conor would always have a hold on him. His life would be spent under the shadow of the enemy.

  Maple opened her mouth to try and force out some of her warnings, but for some reason, she couldn’t bring herself to say the words. She looked in his eyes, searching for her blessing and her understanding. She looked at that clawing desperation inside of him, that need to have some sense of closure, and she snapped her mouth shut. The advice in her head fell away, as she realized that his mind was made up and she would never be able to change it.

  She heard his words to Evan echo in her head. “I’m doing this, with or without you...but I’d rather do it with you.” Maple knew he would fight Conor. The only thing she could do for him now, was to simply be there.

  She looked up at him and nodded. “Ok,” she said simply.

  Chapter 4

  Jax

  The neighborhood was a shabby one, but at least it was quiet. Jax knew that it was the main reason Jodie had chosen it in the first place. The houses that lined the worn out street were small and badly maintained. The paint had long since peeled off the walls and the roofs looked like they were on their last legs.