Fighter

I recognized this guy. It was Downtown Sculley. He was known in the underground scene. I wheeled my chair forward and leaned closer to see the gleam appear in Jax’s eyes. If he beat Downtown Sculley, his reputation would be cemented. It would up his credibility, and he could demand more money with each fight he won.

“No, no,” I murmured to myself. I didn’t know if Jax could win, and I didn’t want to find out. He was awake and conscious. If he got knocked out, my brothers would get him and therefore get the skip money. Jax was my jump, more out of pride than anything else. I’d screwed up, so I needed to bring him in. I grabbed Haley’s arm and yanked her down to me.

“Ouch!” She glared at me. “What?”

“He can’t fight that guy.”

“Why?” She glanced around. The crowd was still chanting because Jaxon hadn’t climbed back into the ring yet. But I knew he would. “If he loses, we can grab him easier.”

“No.” I shook my head. “My brothers will grab him. We need to get him now.”

“How?” She kept frowning. “I don’t think he’ll even see us—or hear us if we yell.”

I bit on my lip. She was right. Think, Dale, think! How could I get his attention? As if answering my own question, the throbbing between my legs deepened, and I squirmed in the chair. I needed to decide whether I wanted his attention to take him to jail or because I needed some other release.

I gestured for Haley to bend down. “Where’s the closest fire alarm?” I asked.

“Uh…” She scanned the room, which was filled with Christmas lights. A palm tree decorated with condoms and thongs stood in one corner, and mistletoe hung all over. A waitress walked by with her red shirt knotted underneath her breasts, and I noticed she had a necklace of mistletoe around her neck. She saw us, stopped, and frowned with one hand resting on her hip. She wore a very short pleated green skirt, and she cocked her head to the side.

I met her gaze. I knew she was wondering whether we should be here or not, so I smiled at her and lifted my stun gun. Her eyes went wide, and she hurried away.

Hayley groaned. “Why did you do that?”

That waitress had been eyeing Jaxon earlier. I shrugged. I should’ve hidden the gun, but I couldn’t refrain. Seeing the fear in her eyes had been worth it.

“She’s getting security.”

“Well, that seals the deal,” I said as I saw what we’d been looking for. I pointed to the fire alarm. “Go pull it.”

Just then a guy turned around right in front of it, and we both stopped. It was my brother Dylan. He laughed, holding a beer in one hand and talking to a customer.

“Thought you guys didn’t drink on the job.” Haley said, eyeing him.

“We don’t.” But some of us did our own thing. Hello. In a wheelchair here. “Haley, you can still go over and pull it. Go to the side like you’re going to the bathroom and slide behind him.”

Dylan tipped his head back, taking a good sip from his beer, and his eyes fell on the ass of a girl in front of him. She danced to the music and looked over her shoulder, catching his eye. Giving him a shy smile, she slowed and moved closer.

“Oh, yeah. He definitely won’t see you—” I began.

I stopped talking. It was pointless. Haley was already halfway across the room, but she wasn’t hiding. Oh no. She swayed her hips from side to side, and it didn’t take a genius to figure out she was trying to get Dylan’s attention. When he saw her, his eyes widened, but then he frowned and started looking around for me. Haley blocked him. She lifted her arms, pretending to yawn, and as she did, her shirt raised an inch, and Dylan’s eyes went right where she wanted them: to Fun and Free themselves. She had her back to me, but I could tell whatever she was doing was working. My brother looked entranced.

Stopping right in front of him, Haley hip checked the other girl and drew her finger along my brother’s neck, moving up to the tip of his chin. She lifted his head, curling her other arm around his shoulder, and then—Was she really? Yep.—she pressed her lips to his.

I was shocked, but only slightly. Haley and Dylan had flirted for years. I waited to see if I should be disgusted. I felt a surge of joy when my brother grabbed her hip and pulled her close against him (not that part—that part was gross). Her arm lifted behind him, reaching for the fire alarm. As she deepened the kiss, her right hand wound around his head and grabbed his hair, then her left finger lifted the handle for the alarm and lingered on the lever.

I still needed to get in place. She was giving me time.