Against the Cage (Worth the Fight #1) (6 page)

“Oh, my. Honey, I’m so sorry. Of course. We’ll talk about it later this week. Let’s get all the paperwork filled out so I can get Slade released.”

Chrissy nodded and forced out a friendly smile.

“You okay?” Jack asked while they waited for Slade.

She shrugged. “I’ve had better days.” She rested her elbows on her lap and dropped her face into her hands.

Jack sat next to her and caressed her back. “You need help with the money, Chris?”

“No, I’ve got it. But thanks,” she answered with her head still hanging. “God, he better not skip town. I’ll kill him. You know he thinks I’m rich because I’m a doctor?” She rolled her head to the side to look at him, her glasses once again sliding down her nose. “I’m not, you know? Rich, I mean. I’ve basically been volunteering since I got licensed. It’s helped bring down my student loans from medical school, but my bank account has suffered along the way. I’ve enjoyed it, though. Going all over the world and helping others—it’s exciting. I wish I could do more to help.” She looked back down. “I don’t know why I’m telling you all this, since we didn’t exactly part on good terms last night. Sorry.”

“Because you’ve known me forever. Because your brother and I are close. Because you can trust me. You can tell me anything, you know?” Jack leaned over and gave her a kiss on the forehead like she was his little sister, although after last night she didn’t want to be thought of as a little sister. Scratch that—she didn’t want Jack to think of her at all.
You’re here to bail Slade out of jail and go home. In and out, that’s the plan
. But Jack was being so sweet, and God, he was hot. Smoldering hot.
Sister? Eek. Gross
.

“I’m sorry about last night,” she told him. “I didn’t intend to be so mean. I just … it took me off guard. The whole MMA thing, it was just … unexpected.”

“You’re forgiven,” he said with a smile.

She was overwhelmed by the emotions of the last twenty-four hours, not to mention the dent this little fiasco was going to make in her checking account. “The mayor’s nephew.” She shook her head. “Slade’s an idiot. You see why I hate violence?” She sat up and looked him straight in the eyes, but before Jack could say anything, a man she’d never met before came over to them.

“Jack,” the man said by way of a greeting.

Jack stood and reached for the man’s hand. “Cain, buddy. How’s it goin’?”

“How’d the arraignment go?”

“Thirty thousand dollars, dude. His priors and the fact the mayor’s nephew is involved didn’t help.”

The man shook his head. “You got the flow covered?”

Chrissy was looking back and forth between the two men. This other guy, who looked intimidatingly serious and stood as tall as Jack, seemed to be a man of very few words.

“Yeah, man. It’s covered. His sister’s got it.” Jack looked down at Chrissy. “Cain, this is Chrissy, Slade’s sister. Chrissy, this is Cain, a friend.”

Cain’s head tilted up in a sort-of nod.

Was that a hello?
Intimidated and unsure of what that small interaction had meant, Chrissy awkwardly smiled at him. She was glad to see Slade had another friend ready to help if need be.

“You fucked up Jas real good. Heard he won’t be fighting for a while. Talk is that when he got to the hospital, there was so much blood coming out of his nose, they thought he’d need a transfusion.” Cain held out his fist, and in some sort of caveman ritual, Jack pounded his fist against Cain’s.

Jack beamed. “Thanks, man, glad to hear it. That guy was huge. Wasn’t sure I’d win.”

Cain looked down at Chrissy’s ashen face, then back up to Jack. “See you got this covered. See you ’round.”

“Later, man,” Jack said as Cain turned and left.

Just as Chrissy was trying to wrap her head around the conversation and how calmly and proudly they had discussed the barbaric sport and the injuries Jack had inflicted on his opponent, the doors opened and Slade came strolling out. Sauntering, really.

“Hey, sis. Thanks for coming to bail me out.” He leaned down and kissed Chrissy affectionately on the cheek. He then turned to Jack and playfully punched him on the arm. “What the fuck, man? You didn’t get me out yesterday!”

Slade was taller than Jack, at least six foot four. And, just like Jack, he was bulky. Between his name and his enormous stature, Slade really was made to be a professional fighter. His chest was wide, and his biceps and forearms had muscles that bulged every time he gestured. Whereas Jack barely had any hair on the top of his head, Slade’s slicked-back long black hair curled at the nape of his neck. He could have given Conan the Barbarian a run for his money. He had a thick black tribal tattoo that peeked from the
neckline of his T-shirt and another on his right forearm. At least those were the two that she knew about. Like Chrissy, Slade also had piercing blue eyes and long black eyelashes.

“Dude, you needed to cool off. I was doing you a favor. What the fuck happened after I left?” Jack looked around as if he’d suddenly realized where they were. “Hold that thought. Let’s go across the street and grab breakfast at EE’s and you can explain there.”

Chrissy felt tiny between the two gladiators flanking her. But while most women, or even men, would be intimidated by them, she wasn’t. These were the same guys who when they were fifteen had used Mrs. Daniels’s expensive eyeliner to paint lines under their eyes as camouflage before they went to toilet-paper the neighbor’s house. Within five minutes they had been caught and brought home to face the wrath of her dad and Mr. Daniels. All that camouflage on their faces, yet they’d worn yellow T-shirts and white shorts: Tweedledee and Tweedledum.

She had to take two steps to one of theirs, and at some point before crossing the street toward the diner she just refused to walk that fast in her heels, so she slowed to a normal pace for her five-foot-four-inch frame. She’d just meet them there. After eighteen years of being the third wheel to Dee and Dum, she was used to being ignored. When they reached the intersection, she saw that Slade looked both ways and crossed the street, but Jack looked to his right and to his left and then glanced back. “What are you doing all the way back there?” he hollered to Chrissy.

“Walking.”

He headed toward her. “Why so slow?”

“I’m not slow. You guys take gigantic steps. I couldn’t keep up. Next time I’ll bring roller skates.”

“Fuck, Chrissy. I’m sorry.”

“For what? It’s no big deal.”

“It’s a big deal to me. Come on.” Jack slowed his pace, and when they reached the intersection, he rested his hand on her lower back, guiding her, protecting her.

As soon as they reached the small diner, a heavyset older woman with pink chubby cheeks and a friendly smile greeted them. “Hiya, Jack. Haven’t seen you ’round in days. Heard about the bar fight yesterday. Glad you caught those hooligans. Earl and I were just sayin’ how proud we are of ya, son. I remember when you were just a little boy and—” She stopped midsentence when she noticed Chrissy at his side. “Oh, my word!” She clasped her hands together. “Is that little Chrissy? I haven’t seen you in a long time. Come here, darlin’.” She reached for Chrissy and gave her a tight hug.

“Esther! Wow, it’s so nice to see you. You’re still running this place, I see.”

“Of course. We’ve been here for thirty-five years and don’t plan on leavin’ anytime soon. Earl would wither away if he didn’t have this ol’ place to come to every day. How long you in town for?”

“Just a few days.”

“Oh, my son Jeffrey is in town too. Maybe you can come over for dinner. I think you two have so much in common. Remember Jeffrey?”

“Oh … um, yes, I remember, Esther. Even though that sounds super nice, I’m only here for a day or two, and then I have to go back home. Maybe next time.”
What the hell? Do I have a sign on my forehead that says
Husband Needed ASAP?

“Then go have a seat, darlin’. I’ll tell Earl you’re here. He’ll be delighted to see you.”

“If you’re in the market for a date, a boyfriend, and/or steamy sex, I know someone I could hook you up with,” Jack whispered in her ear.

Chrissy affectionately shoved him. “My goodness, I must be exuding desperation. If one more person tries to hook me up with their son, nephew, or any other relative, I’ll scream.”

Jack let out an amused snort.

Her mood lifted as they walked to the booth where Slade was already sitting. They slipped into the booth, facing Slade.

“What took you guys so long? I’m a starved man. You know what kind of shit they serve in there?” Slade motioned with his thumb in the direction of the jail.

Jack was about to answer, but Chrissy put her hand on his thigh and squeezed. He whipped his head to her and saw her eyes telling him to just let it go. She didn’t want to argue with Slade.

Slade hadn’t cared that she couldn’t keep up with him. He couldn’t have cared less whether she wired him the bail money or came in person. Sure, they’d talked on the phone over the last eleven years; it was small talk and it was brief, but they had stayed in contact. The last time she’d seen him, though, was about ten years ago at their father’s funeral. The last thing he’d said to her there—the reason she’d decided not to return to town—was forever ingrained in her head: “This is all your fault, Chrissy. You should’ve called me the first time that guy touched you. The minute you got to town you should’ve called me and told me what was going on. You knew Dad was going to get into that car and set things right. You knew he had a temper and would want to protect his perfect little girl. You knew it! You were selfish to come back to town when the shit finally hit the fan instead of letting us know before it got as bad as it did. And now I’ve lost my dad. I have no one left.”

He had been drinking that night and the words came out slurred, but the truth of them had shone in his misty eyes. Jack had been consoling his parents at the other side of the funeral home and hadn’t heard the argument, but she was fairly certain he too had been drinking, because his eyes had been unfocused and when he’d greeted her earlier his hug had been a little too tight and unsteady.

Bottom line: Slade always took Chrissy for granted. He thought because she was a doctor she could afford to bail him out. He resented her for their father’s death. And because the guilt ate her up, she didn’t bother standing up for herself. She felt she owed him, because had it not been for her, their father would still be alive today. So the pace of his step was not worth an argument.

Slade was concentrating on the menu and didn’t notice the exchange. Jack reached under the table and put his hand on Chrissy’s, the one that was squeezing his leg. The waitress came by, took their order, and brought water and coffee. And still Jack and Chrissy’s hands stayed together under the table.

In and out of town, Chrissy. Hand-holding is not a part of the plan
, she reminded herself. Jack had flipped her hand over and was drawing small circles in her palm and tracing the bluish-green gathering of veins on her wrist.
Oh, God, what am I getting myself into?

Jack looked at Slade. “Start talking, brother.”

Slade picked up his cup of coffee, and Chrissy noticed a small tremor in his hand. Her eyebrows furrowed, and Slade must’ve picked up on it because he quickly set the cup back down, put his hands on his lap under the table, and began to talk.

As Slade began to tell his story, Chrissy instinctively reached into her messy purse and dug around for the antibacterial towelettes she kept in there. Her purse had almost anything she’d ever need for almost any occasion. Her head was practically inside her oversized bag when Jack placed his hand on her forearm to get her attention. “Chrissy? What’s with the scavenger hunt?”

Her head snapped up, and she looked at both men. “Sorry. Don’t mind me. Continue your story.”

“Continue?” Slade said. “I can’t even begin with that huge-ass bag taking over half the table and all the noise you’re—”

“Aha! Found it.” She placed her bag by her side, put a little tube on the table, and ripped open the paper packaging. Then she leaned over the table.

Slade pulled back. “What the fuck, Chris? Is that a condom?”

“You are such a moron!” She let out a breath. “It’s an antibacterial towelette and some antibacterial cream. Stop being such a baby and let me see that scrape on your neck.
I bet they didn’t even clean it before you went to jail. It’s probably infected.”

“No, Chrissy, there’s not a nurse giving out sponge baths in jail. Stop being such a mom. Leave my cut alone and listen to my story.”

Chrissy ignored him and leaned almost completely across the table. Her ass was practically in Jack’s face. She wiped the wound clean and then put some cream on it as both men silently watched her work. When she finished she sat back down. Then she looked at the men. “What?”

“You’re my little sister, but you’re acting like the older sibling.”

“I’m a doctor. That’s why I did it.”
That’s a lie
. “And anyway, if the older sibling is a huge idiot who’s fighting and getting arrested, how’s he going to tend to his little sister?” Jack took Chrissy’s hand, which was under the the table, and placed it on his lap again.

Slade seemed to ponder her words for a few moments before he cleared his throat and began to speak. “Okay, so after you left the fight, Jack, I was getting my stuff together and was about to head out to my car. That pretty chick Jessica—you know, the classy brunette I’ve been trying to hook up with for months who tends bar at the Pier—started talking to me. She told me she finally broke up with Dennis. So I asked her out. Again. For the hundredth time. This time she agreed. I was walking her to her car, just talking, when all of a sudden I get pushed from the back. It was a pussy move. When I turned around, that asshole Dennis took a swing at me. I ducked and threw two good body shots, and apparently broke his rib. Then the son of a bitch lunged at Jessica. What the fuck was I supposed to do? Stand by and let a man hit a woman?” Slade glanced at Chrissy, whose body seemed to constrict; under his fingers, Jack could feel her pulse accelerate. But when Slade turned back to Jack and continued to explain, Chrissy instantly relaxed again. Jack looked at Chrissy and then at Slade; had he imagined that there been some sort of quiet exchange between them?

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