Fighter

His eyebrows furrowed together. One of his hands lifted to rub at his jaw. “And Chris Monroe?”


“You did what he wanted, or what we’re assuming he’ll want. I mean, hello? Chris is going to want to make money. Having you fight is a no-brainer. You’ll win. Everyone will be betting on you, but if you challenge the winner the next weekend, you could win back your reputation and maybe even some money.”

“The pot was fifty thousand.” He sounded wounded. “I’m going to lose out on that money.”

“Jax.” I snapped my fingers. “Libby.” Did I need to say more?

He sighed and finished his beer. “I know.” He tossed the bottle into the garbage, a clean shot, and reached for my beer. I hadn’t drank from it, and he took it out of my hands. “Just let me have a minute,” he added. “There’s a man’s ego at risk here. I’m going to have to take a beating.”

“Literally.” I flashed him a grin.

He nodded. “Exactly, but I’ll be fine. I’ll regroup. I’ll slam the fucker back down, whoever beats me, and Libby will be safe. All is good.”

“And I’ll get to take you to jail that night.”

“You’re right. You win too.”

“Uh-huh.” My head bobbed up and down, but as we talked, darker sensations had begun to stir in me again. I felt the air grow thick with tension, and I was engulfed by nerves, excitement, lust—all that bang and buck together. It was like my body knew the talking was nearing an end and had started to remind me how much it wanted that man again.

Trying to stall for time to put that cement wall back in place, I glanced around again. “Can we go somewhere else?”

“Like where? Your brothers know me. I’m sure they have every place staked out.”

Yeah. His places. I cursed under my breath. I should’ve thought of it sooner.

“What?”

“They’re looking at your places. Not mine.”

“Meaning?” Then the corners of his mouth dipped. “No way. I’m not shacking at Haley’s. I’ve been there. No offense to your girl, but there’s too much pink and lace. I need to be able to fight, Doily. My manliness will be sucked dry if I set foot in her doorway.”

“No.” My brother would be staking out that place, but in a whole other way. “My family’s cabin. It’s nice. It’s not seasonal, so they won’t even think of it being used. But its warm enough outside that we won’t freeze.” And it was clean. That was the more important factor. No allergies to clog up my lungs. “What do you think?”

“I don’t know.” But he was thinking about it. I could see that, and his eyes flicked over the place. He lifted a hand and scratched behind his ear. “I don’t even want to know what boyfriend of Lady G’s this place belongs to anyways.”

Hope surged up my throat. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He gave me a grin and stood in front of me. Bending down, he patted his back. “Hop on, Doily. Let’s get out of here. It’s giving me the creeps too.”

I slid down, my good leg wrapping around his waist. He reached back and kept a secure hold under my injured leg, then moved outside and deposited me in his truck. Disappearing back inside, he was gone for a moment. Then he came back with a case of beer in one hand and his bag in the other.

He handed over his phone.

I asked, “What’s this?”

“I just realized your brothers might think I’ve kidnapped you. I’d be in worse trouble then. Can you call them? Let them know this isn’t that type of thing.”

I lifted the phone and dialed my oldest brother Dean’s number. I knew he’d scream and blame me somehow, but Jax was right. He didn’t need another warrant, one that would ensure him some prison time.

“Dale?”

I let out a silent sigh, getting ready. My brother sounded pissed.

“Hey, um, you’re not going to like this,” I told him, “but I’m going to stay and talk Jaxon into going to jail…”

“Bullshit. Are you in bed with him already?” Dean argued. Then he was quiet for a moment. I could hear him breathing. “So you’re saying you’re going to help him?”

Well, the whole idea of not letting him know the plan had gone south. Not wanting Dean to think that I was a floozy (even though my loins cried at the injustice of being accused and not actually being in Jax’s bed), I said without thinking, “I am not sleeping with him! I’m just helping.” And immediately after, chaos ensued.

Dean started shouting. I shouted back. Curse words were thrown, along with a few threats, and eventually Dean delivered an ultimatum: “Tell us where you are right now or you’re cut out of the holiday party,” he said, sealing the deal for me.

Oh, hell no, my brother.