Fighter

He smiled again. “There’s a reason why I’m running the family and Charles isn’t.”


I glanced up at the ring. The announcer was done with the introductions, and he rang the bell, jumping back as the two fighters started to circle each other. Charles outweighed Jax by a hundred pounds. He was solid, and he’d been trained to fight. The Monroes didn’t mess around with anything. But Jax was better. I knew it. Jax knew it. Charles knew it, and Chris knew it.

Charles shifted on his heel and threw the first punch.

Jax dodged and came up with an upper cut. Knowing him, he’d want this over as soon as possible, and when he started delivering a series of jabs mixed with roundhouses, the rest of Sally’s realized it too. A fresh wave of excitement went through the crowd. Jax wasn’t going to throw the match, and as soon as they realized it, they started cheering even louder for him.

Chris was right. It had been a brilliant plan, this whole thing.

“What’s the collateral damage from this?” I asked him.

“From Jax beating my brother?”

“Yes.”

“Nothing except I get to hold it over Charles for the next ten years.”

“Ten years?”

“He’s going to prison. This is his last hoorah. The feds got him solid on something, and we can’t get him out of it.”

I frowned. “So he won’t retaliate against Jax?”

“No. I wouldn’t let him anyway. I like you and Jax. I always did, even in high school. Jax is one reason why I never went after his sister.”

“One reason?”

“Yeah. The other is that I do care about her.”

After a moment I nodded. He cared enough about her not to pull her into his world. My respect for Chris grew. I didn’t know what to say except, “Thank you.”

He laughed. “Don’t thank me for that. Thank me for keeping your brothers away today.”

“What?”

“Dean came to me. They’d figured out why Jax was fighting, and he wanted me to help him bring Jax in. I told him no. I needed my fighter to fight, and I reminded him that you’re probably here with the whole purpose of taking Jax to jail tonight.” He paused a beat. “You are, right?”

The crowd reached a deafening level. I leaned closer and said, “Yeah. I want to take him in.”

“I thought so. There’s a car waiting for you after this.”

And with that, we heard a thud from the ring. Jax had delivered the last punch. He stood above Charles, who was passed out on the floor: a knockout. Jax whirled around and threw me a grin. The referee called the match and held Jax’s arm up in victory. It was done.

Well, almost.

Chapter Nine

We didn’t take the ride Chris had offered. Jax insisted on riding in style, so we trucked it back toward the rented Camaro. The trip took forever. Without the anxiety of ducking and running from my brothers, Jax was more relaxed, which meant the charismatic Jax came out—or actually that just meant he wasn’t holding back or hunching down in his hooded sweatshirt anymore.

The hood went back, and he collected congratulations, fist pumps, and phone numbers left and right as we made our way down the sidewalk outside of Sally’s. Getting out of the parking lot was near impossible. A crowd formed around him with more congratulations, and because the doors had been left open, the music spilled out and a dance floor formed right in front of us. People stood on car hoods, sat on trunks, rode on other people’s shoulders, and a dance-off soon began. Jax started grinding against me. When people saw that, more drunken guys began thrusting their hips at us, moving in a circle. Jax kept one arm around my waist, anchoring me to him. He laughed and was clearly enjoying himself.

Then the shots started coming. A waitress brought a tray of them. Jax said no, but the guys next to him insisted on buying the whole thing. They wanted to drink with the champ. Soon mini cups of Jack, Jim, and Johnny were passed around everywhere. Our town wasn’t a big one, so when a local became the champion of the underground fighting ring—and he wasn’t a Monroe—it was a big deal.

“Hey!” Haley shoved past a couple of girls trying to get Jax’s attention. She gave them a dark look and winked at me.

I waited. She was going to do something.

She did. I watched as she purposefully moved backward into one girl, stepping on her feet. When the girl cried out, Haley whipped around. Her elbow got the other friend, but there were two more girls joining them. They were busy looking down, patting their breasts and plumping them up, so they didn’t see what they were walking into. As they drew closer, the friend Haley had gotten with her elbow stepped into them, bumping heads, and both of them fell back. One tripped and went to the ground. As she did, her skirt bunched up around her waist and left her entire thong exposed—well, not her thong, but everything else: asscheeks galore.