Jet

by Vivian Gray

  He heard Brass behind him, saying, “Stand down,” in a warning tone. He wasn’t speaking to Jet, but to one of the men who was surrounding them. If Brass was there, East would be circling around to the back of the group, prepared to take the Runners on both sides if necessary.

  “Say you understand, you piece of shit,” Jet said. His voice wasn’t anything more than a snarl now. Kane twisted, his hands on Jet’s boot now. Jet was surprised at the other man’s strength; he leaned down on his knee to exert enough force to keep Kane pinned.

  Kane spat on the ground. The spittle was dark red with the blood from his nose, which would be leaking down his throat now. Jet knew from his own experience the disgusting feel and taste of that; he relished the idea that Kane was suffering. It made him feel better about leaning down, grabbing Kane’s sweaty head in one hand, and slamming it hard against the floor. He saw Kane’s eyes go loose in his head, the sharp sensation clearly pushing him past the edge of consciousness.

  Jet stepped back and finally looked up at the Runners who were nervously training their weapons on him. They’d drawn guns in a crowded room of civilians. If it had been no one but Choppers in the room, he would have taken every single one of these men and had them executed. There was no excuse for behaving like this, not when Kane was so deliberately provoking the Choppers. People could get hurt like this. Badly hurt. The very people Jet had set out to protect in the first place.

  “Take him,” Jet said to the Runners. “Get out. I don’t want to see a single one of you in this building, on my turf, or anywhere near any of it ever again. When that walking bag of dicks wakes up, make sure he understands that the next time I see him, I will bury him so deep that no one will ever find him. Clear?”

  The Runners’ structure was so shitty that there wasn’t a specific second in command to receive his cold, angry rage, so he kept his fury general. He saw a lot of cold, angry looks. His men were well-trained, though, and he didn’t have to so much as gesture. East came up behind one of the mooks, grabbed his hair, and yanked the man’s head back so hard that the man let out a high-pitched little cry.

  East put a straight razor to the man’s throat before he spoke: “Boss asked you a question. Who’s going to answer?”

  The Runners were stunned into silence for a second, and then someone near the threatened man – someone who would have caught the blood spray if East used the razor – stuttered out an answer.

  “Y-yeah,” he said. “Yes. Okay. Yeah. Message received, okay? We get it.”

  “Then get out,” Jet said.

  The Runners picked up their fallen leader, taking him under the arms and shuffling him out the door. Kane was coming around at that point, enough to get his feet under him a little and keep himself from being entirely dead weight.

  As the threat ended and the first sounds began to creep back into the club, Jet felt the adrenaline rush out of him. He kept himself from staggering through sheer willpower. There was no way he could show weakness at this moment. He moved back through the crowd, keeping a satisfied smile on his face.

  That was what people needed to see right now; his men, the club girls, and the patrons of the establishment. Everyone needed to see that he had dealt with the threat, maintained the peace through whatever means were necessary, and made sure that everything stayed as it should be.

  No one needed to see the reaction that was tearing through his system.

  He’d learned a long time ago that adrenaline responses weren’t what made a person weak. They were biology, and you couldn’t fight biology. You could hide or minimize the physical signs of an adrenaline rush passing, but you couldn’t make it stop, no matter how hard you tried.

  He got back to his booth before his knees started to shake. He dropped into his seat a little harder than he would have if he were calm, but he didn’t fall. He didn’t touch his glass until his hands stopped shaking. It took a little longer than he would have liked, but it had been a long time since he’d had to handle that much rage.

  “You shouldn’t have let him live,” Brass said, dropping into the other side of the booth. He passed Jet an ice pack that he must have gotten from Caroline, and Jet wasn’t so caught up in keeping up appearances that he couldn’t press the cold pack against his ribs after a thank you nod.

  “Too many witnesses.” It was an excuse, but not by much.

  “Brick and Jacob can handle that. This problem needs dealing with.”

  Jet’s hand curled into a fist again, and it was just a long friendship with the other man that kept Jet from slamming it down onto the table so hard the glasses jumped. That, and he’d hit another man twice today, and his fist fucking hurt. “I hear you, Brass. But this isn’t the way.”

  “Then what is the way, Jet?” Brass’ tone was harsh, angrier than Jet liked. This wasn’t a good sign. “We’ve been dicking around with this guy for years. I know you two have history, but this is absurd. He needs to be dealt with, or he’s going to be right up our asses. You just humiliated him in front of his men. What do you think is going to happen next?”

  Jet shook his head. “Goddammit.” He couldn’t really muster up the anger at his long-suffering vice president. There wasn’t any part of this which was right, and he was absolutely letting his long history with Kane get in the way of his judgment. But he couldn’t bring himself to send two men out into the night to murder another man in cold blood. Not a man who had once been his brother.

  Brass’ voice went quiet, but it didn’t go soft. “I’ll make the call if you can’t, boss. I understand what this is. If you need this to be on someone else, I’ll take that for you. But it needs to be done.”

  Jet took a long, slow breath. His ribs ached, his head was fuzzy from the adrenaline and the crash, and he hadn’t been having the most level day before all that happened. “Give me the night, Brass. I’ll make a call in the morning. I’ll do it, or you’ll do it. I just need the night.”

  “It’s a mistake.”

  “It probably is.”

  Brass shook his head. “And if some of the men caught Kane alone before morning? If he threatened them, and they were forced to defend themselves?”

  He didn’t deserve all the outs that Brass was giving him, he truly didn’t. He couldn’t turn this one down, no matter how much he wanted to. “If that were to happen, then they would need to protect themselves with all the force they deemed necessary.”

  Brass gave a curt nod before standing up from the table. Jet reached out and caught the other man’s attention before he stepped away.

  “Thank you,” he said, his voice pitched low, barely enough to carry over the growing noise of the crowd.

  Brass didn’t say anything, but he didn’t need to. Jet watched him go, a sick feeling twisting in his stomach. Put as many layers on it as you wanted, he’d just authorized the murder of a man who had once been his best friend.

  “Hey,” he heard from behind him, and for once, Bree’s voice didn’t go straight to affecting his dick. That had to be a sign of how bad off his head was. He couldn’t bring himself to look up at her; it was a shit move, but he still couldn’t do it. She stepped around into his field of vision.

  It was crappy to put women on pedestals, to act like they were somehow perfect. He knew that. Also, his girlfriend looked like a goddamn angel and being unable to say he loved her was the most bullshit thing he’d ever seen.

  “Hey,” he responded. It was the most he could do.

  Bree looked nervous as hell. Her arms were crossed over her middle like she was cold, and she couldn’t quite bring herself to meet his eyes. “I’m sorry if this is crowding. I know you said you needed some time to think or cool off, or whatever. But I heard shouting, and I just got nervous.”

  He took a deep breath, then scooted over in the booth so she could sit next to him.

  “I’d put you in my lap,” he said, trying to keep his voice calm, “but that son of a bitch bruised my ribs like nothing else. I’m going to hurt in the morning.” He gesture
d at the ice pack, and Bree’s eyes went wide.

  “Oh crap, are you okay?” She sat down next to him but carefully did not touch him.

  He appreciated that. The ache was spreading through him now as the endorphins buzzed out, and he was feeling light-headed. Laying down would be a good call, especially now that attention had faded away from him.

  “I will be,” he replied. “I need to stay here a little longer. Be seen. Then we can go back upstairs. We can talk. Without me yelling.”

  “Or me yelling.” Her smile was small but present. “Sorry about that.”

  “Nah, I sprung a lot on you when I didn’t have the right. Not your fault.”

  “The thing that happened before. It shook me hard.”

  Jet nodded again. “Yeah. I knew it, and I didn’t react well. I should have done better.”

  Bree shrugged. “Look. We can do this all night. How about I say I’m sorry, then you do, then you I say I’m forgiven, and I do the same, and then it’s just done. Is that okay?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “I’m sorry. You’re forgiven.”

  “You’re forgiven too.” She eyed him for a moment. “Can I kiss you without making it hurt worse?”

  No. “Yeah, of course you can.” He turned towards her, putting down the ice pack and wrapping that arm around her shoulders. To her credit, she came in soft and didn’t make him lean at all. It could have hurt worse than it did, and it was worth every twinge.

  “Have you eaten?”

  He shook his head.

  “I’ll grab something from the kitchen, alright, and meet you upstairs?”

  “That sounds good.”

  He watched her go and wondered if this was what it felt like to be taken care of. There was a chance he could get used to this. That thought was terrifying, but he couldn’t quite shake it, all the same.

  Chapter Fourteen

  When Jet nodded and agreed that she could get him some food and take him upstairs to take care of him, happy warmth spread through her. She had gone downstairs prepared to be yelled at again, but the sudden cessation of noise in the club, followed by the rough sounds of shouting, had made it impossible to stay upstairs. That Jet hadn’t immediately dismissed her felt pretty amazing; that he had apologized and wanted to keep talking felt a little like a miracle.

  Caroline was happy to pass off some burgers and East, back behind the bar, passed her a couple of beers. Well, beers for Jet and some kind of virgin cocktail he had cooked up for her. Jet had already left his booth by the time she was heading upstairs, everything neatly balanced. Maybe she really should have been a waitress.

  Jet had wedged a shoe between the apartment door and its frame; she slipped inside and kicked the shoe out of the way, so the door was closed. Jet was stretched out on the couch, the ice pack pressed up against his side. He’d pulled a chair over for her, too. She set the food and the beer down on the table.

  “Hey,” he said again, his arm thrown over his eyes.

  “How’re you holding up?”

  “I shouldn’t have laid down. Sitting up is going to suck.”

  “Ibuprofen?”

  “Sounds good.”

  She got that from the bathroom, then settled down in the chair. Jet sat up with a groan and took the box of food she’d pushed towards him.

  “So what happened down there?” Bree asked between bites.

  Jet was very still. “Kane tried to get into the club.”

  His voice was small and quiet, but Bree’s stomach still flipped over hard. Her palms started to sweat, and her heart started to race; she couldn’t fight off the panic for a long, hard minute. Even when her voice came back, it wasn’t the same as relaxed.

  “Okay,” she said when she could breathe again.

  Jet nodded, taking that as a cue to keep going. “I stopped him. Obviously. Made it clear why.”

  “He didn’t take it well.” Bree gestured at Jet’s ribs.

  “He did not,” Jet confirmed, “but he got the worse end of the deal. Broke his nose, I’m pretty sure, and got his ribs more than once. His men had to carry him out.”

  “Good.” She didn’t expect the viciousness in her voice, but she didn’t feel bad about it either.

  “Can’t say I disagree.” He sighed, took another bite of food, then set it down. “I need to talk to you about Kane. I have a good idea of why he targeted you, and I think you have a right to know. But if you think it’s not going to help, that it’ll hurt, I won’t. I’ll just tell you to be careful.” He shook his head. “It’ll probably be finished tonight anyway.”

  There was such sadness in his voice at that. She couldn’t quite understand it. She took a moment to think it through. Yeah, it would be hard hearing that fucker’s name, but at the same time – knowing what was happening would be its own power, and she could use that right about now.

  “Tell me, please.”

  Jet nodded. “Kane and I – The thing is, we go way back. We were kids together. Our fathers were in the same club back then, and we ran together all the time. We enlisted together. We didn’t serve together, but we came back from tours at about the same time. Kane – he did his best. What happens over there, it’s not right. What happens when you come back, that ain’t right either. But his best – Man, I hate saying this about a fellow soldier, but his best wasn’t enough. He came back, and he was wrong in the head. He started going after women, and everyone heard about how rough he was. Girls were terrified of him, he didn’t ask permission, just – He hurt people, and hurt them hard.”

  “Is that why you bid so hard for me that first night?” It suddenly made sense why Jet had gone so aggressive for her.

  He grinned. “And you’re gorgeous. That too.”

  She blushed and looked away, and he continued his story: “But yeah, that was part of it. I told you that night, I didn’t figure there was any way that the virgin thing could be true, but I had an idea how hard he’d go for you if it was and – I didn’t want that. Not for anyone.”

  “So you think he’s coming for me over that? Because you bought me first?”

  Jet shook his head. “I don’t think it’s as simple as that. See, he was part of the Choppers for a while, but when word got around about how he was treating girls, I told him to shape up or leave. I thought it would be enough. He left, and it just about killed me. But at the same time, the stories of him being such a mean bastard died down, and I thought it would be okay. So he kept coming around, and I just... I let it happen.”

  “Because he was family to you.”

  “Once upon a time, yeah. He was.”

  Bree was quiet for a little while, letting the words sink in. “I get it.”

  He looked surprised. “You do?”

  She nodded. “I mean, you said it yourself, right? He did this. It wasn’t my fault. So it wasn’t your fault either.”

  “But if I’d—”

  She was too tired and too panicked to soothe his emotions and her own. “You said it would be finished tonight. What do you mean?”

  His expression darkened, and that same fear threaded through her. “Brass... I couldn’t give the order to finish him, baby. I’m sorry. I really tried, but I couldn’t make myself say the words. So Brass is taking care of it. But I still know. I know that I told them to kill my brother. And no matter what he did to you, to other girls, to – to anyone, that hurts.” He looked up at her, and she saw a glimmer of wetness in his eyes. Her heart cracked. “Do you hate me for that? I just need to know.”

  Maybe part of her did. Maybe a small part that wanted to see the bastard hung up by his balls for what he’d done to her did. But the bigger part of her believed that Jet cared about the man and that he’d done the best he could to protect her. He could have stopped Brass, countermanded the order. He hadn’t done that, at least.

  “No,” she said. “Thank you. For letting it happen.”

  His shoulder went limp, and he had to catch himself on his knees with
a hiss of pain. “You’re mine,” he said, his voice quiet. “I’m not going to let you be hurt, not if it’s in my power to stop it.”

  “Thank you.”

  “I love you.”

  The words came out slow and soft, but there wasn’t any hesitation in them. Bree’s heart gave another harsh stutter stop while she tried to understand the words. She’d almost given up on hearing them, and she wanted to clutch them close to her chest now.

  “I love you, too,” she made herself say. Not because she didn’t want to, but because she was afraid of somehow shattering the moment. “Why now?” Well, there went that.

  “I needed you to know.” He sighed, scrubbing his hands through his hair again. “I’m not good at this, okay? I don’t want to be that dick who says that they avoided relationships to avoid feelings because that’s a bunch of manipulative crap. I avoided relationships because I didn’t want to have relationships. I didn’t want to deal with someone expecting crap from me. I had enough on my plate. But you... I don’t know, Bree, it’s different. Or I’m different. This feels right, the way nothing else ever has. And I want this. I don’t have a fucking clue how to do this, but I want it.”