"What the fuck are you doing?!" a voice yelled harshly from behind Clay. I looked over Clay's shoulder and sagged with relief as I saw Andy standing a few feet behind Clay. Clay turned his head, and his grip tightened as he saw Andy.
"This is none of your fucking concern!" Clay seethed.
"It is when you're fucking with a friend of mine." Andy stepped closer, his eyes boring into Clay. Clay released my wrists and turned toward Andy. I took my opportunity and stepped past Clay before he could grab me again. Andy took my arm and pulled me safely behind himself. I backed away from the confrontation, and ran into someone. A gentle hand took my arm, and I looked up to see Denny holding onto me. Oh, thank God.
I looked back at Clay in time to see him take a swing at Andy. Amazingly, Andy merely sidestepped and dodged the clumsy punch.
"Wow, McCallister," Andy said with a smirk. "You totally telegraphed that shit."
"How the fuck do you know my name?!" Clay asked, his face red with fury as he threw another jab at Andy's face, which Andy avoided just as easily as the first.
"You're gonna have to try better than that, dude," Andy taunted him again. Clay growled and rushed at Andy this time, but Andy stepped in and delivered a fierce punch right to Clay's face.
"And that's how it's done," Andy said calmly as Clay collapsed to the ground with a strangled cry of pain. Andy leaned over Clay with a sneer of disdain. "That's for my girlfriend's sister; you fucking prick! Now, get the fuck out of here before I let Denny have a turn."
Clay looked up and realized he was outnumbered when he saw Denny standing nearby. Denny smiled in anticipation at Clay and nodded.
"I'd love to have a go," Denny said with enthusiasm. I was happy to see Clay's nose bleeding again as he rose unsteadily and staggered away from us. Denny followed after him, I'm assuming to make sure Clay really left.
"Are you alright, Sydney?" Andy asked as he grabbed my shoulders and looked at me.
"Yeah, I think so," I answered and realized my voice was shaky. "That was amazing. How did you do that?" I asked as I realized my body was shaking as well.
"I used to dabble in mixed martial arts in high school," he answered me absently, still looking at me. "I picked up a few moves. Are you sure you're okay?"
I could feel tears beginning to well up in my eyes. I shook my head at Andy as the first tear fell down my cheek. Oh God, what would have happened if Andy hadn't come back this way? My breathing sped up and I started to feel lightheaded. Andy nodded and put an arm around me. He walked me over to my car and pushed me down to sit sideways in the driver's seat.
"How do you know McCallister?" Andy asked with a concerned expression as he looked down at me.
"He's my ex and the one who vandalized my car."
"He really fucked over my girlfriend's sister," Andy said angrily. "I guess he's an ass-hat to everyone he dates."
I reached over for my purse and took my phone out.
"Who are you calling?" Andy asked as he squatted down in front of me.
"Jensen." I scrolled to his name in my contacts and hit the call button.
"This should go well," I thought I heard Andy mumble sarcastically under his breath. I wondered what he meant by that as the phone began to ring.
CHAPTER SIX
Jensen
Despite the distracted state of my mind, the day had gone well and everything I needed to get done was finished before five o'clock. I couldn't wait to see Sydney again, and the conversation we had had at lunch had given me a hard on for what seemed like all afternoon. It was an uncomfortable few hours. The office building construction I was currently managing was finally on schedule again, and I was hoping to get out early to go pick up Sydney. I headed toward the mobile home that acted as an on-site office just before five to check in with my uncle, and make sure he didn't need me for anything else today.
I scraped the dirt off my boots on the rug at the top of the stairs next to the office door and walked in, taking off my hard hat and hanging it on a hook next to the door. I looked across the room toward Uncle Mathias' desk to find him sitting and staring unseeing at his computer monitor, a lost expression on his face. It had become a sight I was getting used to seeing. He wasn't the same since losing his brother. It seemed I couldn't escape my guilt anywhere I went, except for when I was with Sydney.
Mathias looked tired as he raised his dark eyes to meet mine. The gray in his hair seemed to double in the two months since the accident. I think the stress of grief and trying to run the company was getting to him. I tried my best to help, but I just didn't have the business savvy that Jordan or my father had in spades. Some days I worried over the future of the business, especially since it would most likely end up as mine. My uncle had been a bachelor his whole life, which made me the only one to take over the company when he was gone.
"Hey, kid," he said with a weary smile. "How's it looking out there?"
"We're back on schedule again," I answered with a smile as I sat down in the chair in front of his desk. "The guys kicked ass today."
"Why don't you head home then," he suggested as he leaned back in his chair with his hands behind his head.
"I swear to God; you're a damn mind reader," I said with a laugh.
"You seemed pretty distracted today," he said after an amused snort. "I figured you could use some rest. This project has been a real bitch." I nodded in agreement. This was the first project we had handled by ourselves, and I was glad it was finally coming together.
"Well, I'm going to get the hell out of here then." I stood to leave.
"Thanks for all the hard work you've been putting in lately," he said. "I know the last few months have been brutal."
"It's no problem," I answered uncomfortably, feeling the guilt rising up inside me. We wouldn't be in this situation if it wasn't for me. I turned away and left quickly, before it overwhelmed me. I stood at the top of the stairs just outside the door and took several gulping breaths to settle myself. Fuck, I was so tired of feeling out of control. I ran my hands over my face and cursed out loud. I really needed to see Sydney tonight, and at least now, I'd be able to get to her sooner. That thought helped me get my shit together.
I was halfway to my truck when my phone started ringing. I stopped when I saw Sydney's name on the screen, and I couldn't help smiling. God, I needed to hear her voice. It was like she knew I needed this. I accepted the call and put the phone to my ear.
"Hey, baby. I was just thinking about you," I said warmly; relief spreading through my body.
"Oh my God, Jensen." Her voice was panicked and thick with crying. She started talking quickly between sobs and all I could comprehend out of it was that Clay had shown up and that Andy was somehow there with her. I felt hot rage building inside me, but I reined it in, in order to try to calm her down.
"Baby!" I interrupted her, harsher than I intended. "I need you to put Andy on the phone."
"What?" she asked between sobbing breaths.
"Sydney," I said, softening my voice. "Give your phone to Andy."
"Okay," she answered quietly after a moment.
"Hey," Andy said. "Just so you know, Sydney's fine, just shook up."
"What the fuck happened?" I demanded. He told me everything, and I felt my rage expanding and engulfing me. My brain latched onto one detail; Andy knew who this son of a bitch was, and I wanted to get my hands on him. That fucker put his hands on my Sydney.
"Can you take her home?" I asked.
"Of course."
"Let Denny drive her and call me from your car."
"Okay..." Andy said suspiciously.
"Just do it. Alright?" I tried to sound calm, but I was anything but calm, and I was sure Andy could tell.
"Alright," he agreed reluctantly.
"Let me talk to her again."
"Jensen?" Sydney said a moment later.
"Baby, Denny is going to drive you home," I told her as gently as I could manage given my anger.
"That's not necessary," she said, st
ill obviously upset. "I'll be fine."
"Please, just do this for me. I don't want you driving while you're upset," I reasoned with her. "Okay?"
"Alright." She gave in without a fight, thankfully.
"I'll be there to pick you up in a bit. I'll text you when I'm headed your way."
"Okay," she said.
"Do you still want to stay at my place tonight?" I asked her, desperate to be alone with her tonight.
"Yes," she answered immediately. I sighed with relief.
"I'll see you soon. You'll be alright," I reassured her as I held on to my rage by a thread.
"Okay," she replied in small quiet voice, and I ended the call, my control fraying with the fear in her tone. I stalked over to my truck.
"Fuck!" I yelled as I slammed my fist down on the hood.
I paced back and forth next to my truck in my growing rage. That asshole had is hands on her, and I wanted to break them. I wanted to smash his fucking face in. I needed to find this guy and make him pay. I was just about to call Andy in my impatience when my phone finally rang with his call.
"Do you know where this motherfucker lives?" I demanded immediately after answering.
"Dude, you need to chill out," Andy said in exasperation. "She's fine."
"I'll chill out after I put my fist through his fucking face," I replied with a low growl.
"Why are you this worked up?" he said with a sigh. "You've only known this girl for two days." I let out a breath in frustration.
"Are you going to help me or not?" I asked angrily.
"Of course, I'm going to help you," he replied. "I just don't understand why you're acting like this."
"You don't understand," I said defensively. "She's just..." I trailed off, not sure where that thought was going, not understanding myself the depth of the connection I was feeling with Sydney. All I knew was that I needed her like I needed air to breathe, and this fierce protectiveness was an extension of that need. Any threat to her had to be eliminated. "She's everything," I finally said with as much sincerity as I could muster, my voice little more than a whisper. There was a long moment of silence before Andy spoke again.
"I'll text you the address if I can get it," he finally said in resignation. "But promise me you won't do anything stupid."
"I'm just going to tell him to leave Sydney the fuck alone," I assured him, not feeling confident of my own self-control in this situation at all, but unwilling to admit it to Andy or myself. There was another long pause on the line, and I started to wonder if Andy would call me out on my bullshit.
"I'll text Lydia now, and she can see if her sister still has McCallister's address," he said with obvious reluctance. "I'm not guaranteeing anything. She may not even have it."
"Thanks, brother. I owe you one."
"No, now you owe me two," he said with a hint of amusement. At this rate I'd end up having to give him my Camaro just to get out from under all these favors that I kept owing him.
"I should know something in a bit, depending on how soon Lydia's sister gets back with her."
"Let me know as soon as you can."
"Will do."
I ended the call as I stopped my pacing and ran a hand through my hair. Frustration built as I felt this rage that had no outlet rising higher and higher inside me. I desperately wanted to punch the shit out of something. I had to get the fuck out of here before I lost it on a work site. I unlocked my truck, opened the door, and climbed in, tossing my phone on the passenger seat. My harsh breathing sounded loud inside the cab after I shut the door. The tension in my body felt like it could snap me in two and I realized I was clenching my fists so tight that my keys were digging into my right palm.
Andy was right; I needed to chill the fuck out. I forced my fists to relax, put the key in the ignition, and lifted my hands to my head. I gripped my hair and bowed my head, closing my eyes and focusing on slowing my breathing. It didn't work. All I saw when I closed my eyes was McCallister laying his hands on Sydney. I raised my head and slammed a fist down on the dash.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck!" I yelled as my fist came down again and again. There was only one way I knew that I could calm down, and that was to get to Sydney. She was the only thing that made me feel normal, like I had control of myself. I started the truck and slammed it into drive. I probably shouldn't be driving in my current state of mind, but staying here was not an option. My foot smashed down on the accelerator, and the truck lurched forward, the feel of being pushed back into my seat a welcome sensation.
Driving itself helped a little. It had always been one of my coping techniques, but it wasn't enough this time. Half way to Sydney's place, I caught myself about to pull out in front of another vehicle when I turned right on red at an intersection. I promptly pulled into the first parking lot I saw and pulled into a parking spot. The surge of adrenaline from my close call wasn't helping either. I leaned my head back against the head rest and tried to focus on breathing in and out slowly. The sound of an incoming text beeped from my phone. I snatched it up off the passenger seat eagerly and opened the message. It was from Andy.
Sydney is home safe. Here's the douche's address. Don't get yourself arrested.
I searched the address on the Internet with my phone and was pleased to see that it wasn't far from here. Now I had a focus for my anger, and I couldn't let Clay get away with this. No one fucked with my Sydney. I pulled out of the lot back into traffic and headed for the address, not really sure what I intended. All I knew for certain was that this was something I had to do.
The asshole lived in an old craftsman-style home in an older part of town lined with large mature trees. I probably would have liked the house, and the quaint neighborhood it was in, if it weren't for whoever happened to live there. I drove past the house noting the white Jeep Wrangler parked in the driveway and then came back, parked across the street a half block away, and sat staring at the house.
Suddenly, my brain decided to think clearly again. What the fuck am I doing here? What possible good thing could come out of this? What was I going to do, assault the guy? This was not a good idea at all. I shook my head in disbelief at my behavior and reached down to put the truck into drive, ready to get the hell out of here.
Just then the door next to the driveway opened, and I saw Clay step out of his house. He was holding what looked like an ice pack on his face as he walked into the detached garage at the end of his driveway. The sight of him sent my rage to a whole new level of crazy. Before I knew what I was doing, I had stepped out of the truck and was striding purposefully across the street toward Clay's open garage door, my fists clenched at my sides.
As I approached the garage, I could see the back end of an old black 80's Jeep Cherokee and Clay disappearing around the left side of the truck. I veered right and moved quietly around the opposite side of the Jeep. I could see Clay through the truck windows at the back of the garage. His back was to me as he rooted around in an old metal tool cabinet. Rage turned my vision red. Without a thought I rushed forward, grabbed Clay by the back of his shirt, and whipped him around to slam him down hard against the hood of the old Jeep. His ice pack skittered across the concrete floor, and he let out a grunt as the force pushed the air from his lungs. I wrenched one of his arms up behind his back and pinned him against the truck.
"What the...?!" Clay began, but I slammed the side of his face down onto the truck's hood with a satisfying thump and held it there.
"You don't talk," I growled with suppressed violence. "You listen."
"You motherfucker," he mumbled under his breath as he struggled against my grip. "You'll pay for..." I pulled his arm up higher, eliciting a grunt of pain. He stopped fighting me, and I eased up on his arm.
"I said, you don't talk," I told him again, my voice low and dangerous as I leaned in closer to his face. "If I see you anywhere near Sydney, if you so much as fucking look at her again, I will end you."
He started laughing and I just about lost it completely as I fought the urge to slam
my fist into his face.
"What the fuck are you laughing about?!" I asked him and twisted his arm again. I enjoyed his grunt of pain.
"This is about that bitch?" he asked in amusement. "That whore isn't worth it. She'll fuck anything with a dick."
"Shut. The. Fuck. Up!" I yelled, punctuating each word with a thump of his head on the Jeep's hood. My body was vibrating with rage, ready to explode.
"You really think you're the only one sticking it to her?" he continued with a smirk. "That's fucking hilarious."
"You don't know what the fuck you're talking about," I growled, fighting the urge to break his arm.
"Do I?" he sneered. "Ask her how many guys she's fucked. Ask her how many times she's slept with a guy and doesn't even remember their damn name."
"That's enough!" I bellowed at him.
"She'll be done with you in a week," he went on with a snide laugh. "You're just another number in long line of dicks to fuck."
My control snapped. I lifted him up off the Jeep and pushed him across the garage to slam him face-first into the wall. I raised his arm up his back until it felt like the joint might rip apart. The air rushed out of his lungs with a harsh grunt. Thankfully, for his own well being, he kept his mouth shut this time. I leaned into his face again, finding satisfaction in the visible bruising and swelling from the hits that Andy and I had already given him.
"Sydney is mine. You hear me? Mine," I growled into his face. "Not you or anybody else is going to fucking touch her! You got it?!"
"Keep telling yourself that," he mumbled against the drywall. "Maybe you'll believe it."
With those words, I was done. I released my grip on Clay and took a step back. He turned facing me and opened his fucking mouth to speak again. My sudden jab caught him right on the jaw, and I watched with fascination as he slumped unconsciously down the wall.
"Mine, goddamn it," I snarled down at him. "Mine."
I was still angry as I drove away from Clay's house. Who the fuck did he think he was, talking about Sydney like that? I had been a hair's breath away from beating the shit out of him until my fists were bloody. I'd like to think that I was happy that I hadn't, but part of me wished I had beaten him until my arms couldn't move.
Let Me Love You: Beautifully Broken Book 1 Page 12