Fighting for Phoebe

by Jennifer Ann

  His eyes skip over the cowl-neck shirt dangling from one of my shoulders, down to my fashionably torn capris and my red cork sandals before slowly dragging back upward. I can’t decide if he’s spending extra time gawking at my boobs or if it’s only my sick little fantasy. “You’re not what I would call a redneck. What makes you stick around?”

  Heat spreads across my cheeks once more. Was that a compliment?

  “I’m not really sure,” I lie, trying to decide what version of the twisted truth would sound best. Looking back at the naked brown bottle in my hands, I release a long sigh. “I guess I’ve become too comfortable here. I know pretty much everyone. I’ve always been relatively close to Ellen—er, my mom—so I jumped at the chance to live in the studio apartment over her garage when it became available. Pathetic, I know.”

  From the corner of my eye, I see his shoulder lift. “Everyone has a reason behind the lifestyle they choose. I’m not one to judge.”

  “That attitude will make you stand out around here like a sore thumb.” I snort. “Everyone in Chesterville thinks they know everyone else’s business. If they don’t, they’re so bored with their own lives that they don’t think anything of making shit up about other people to make it more interesting.”

  That’s almost the exact same line Logan gave me when wild stories began to surface of him sleeping with strippers and doing drugs.

  Jace makes a little grunting noise. “Sounds miserable.”

  “Yeah, I’m not really sure why I didn’t finish community college and get the hell out of town.” Total bullshit, though I’m not about to admit to Jace that it has everything to do with Ellen’s control over my very existence. “It’s not like there’s anything here worth sticking around for.”

  One of his thick brows lifts. “What did you go to school for?”

  “Definitely not clerking at the local grocery store. I had no idea what I wanted to do with my life right out of high school, and I’m still not really sure. Ellen says I’m good with people. Maybe I should’ve gone into psychology.”

  Though I keep waiting for him to offer a piece of information about himself, he seems more interested in getting to hear my pathetic story. Annoyed from the rehash of my monotonous life and the background noises from Decker and crew, I pull out my phone and tap on the music app.

  “This place needs some livening up.” I give Jace a little grin. “What’s your favorite song?”

  “Anything heavy that’ll get my blood pumping,” he answers with the most animation since we started this conversation. “I can’t listen to country or pop music without wanting to stab a fucking fork in my eye.”

  Giggling, I say, “Right on. I’m more of a metal girl myself.”

  I choose Logan’s favorite Pop Evil song and smirk to myself when the sick beat starts. My brother was inadvertently the one who got me into this kind of music. The day he left, I jacked his entire CD collection and quickly became hooked on the feel-good world that came with gritty guitars and strained vocal chords.

  When I glance back to Jace, he’s grinning and subtly bobbing his head. “Solid choice. These guys are killer in concert.”

  A spasm licks right between the center of my legs. Could this guy be any more perfectly suited for me? “I would love to see them in concert. I won tickets to see them open for Disturbed and Rob Zombie last spring, but had to sell them when something came up.”

  Something being the fact that my musically-inept boyfriend was pissed when he discovered I was going with Kory. I should’ve known Decker was the type to cheat when I reflect on how little he trusted me.

  Jace’s eyes widen. “No shit? Damn, I would’ve given anything to catch that tour!”

  Right in the middle of my music-gasm with the beautiful man, Kory returns, throwing a smirk my way. I desperately want to kick him for moving in when things were just getting interesting.

  “Another beer?” he asks, tipping his head at my bottle.

  “Kory, this is Jace,” I say. “I’m only having another one if Jace will let me buy him another drink.” Pressing my lips together, I turn to face my new friend and widen my eyes, waiting for him to challenge me.

  “Sure, why not,” Jace gives in, chuckling. “Guess I could grab a room at the motel down the street as long as no one will mess with my bike.”

  “Bike, as in motorcycle?” I ask with a little squeak. The hotness points with this guy are never-ending. I wouldn’t be surprised if he admitted to rescuing orphaned puppies in his spare time.

  “You ride?” Kory asks, pausing to examine Jace a little more closely.

  Jace bobs his head. “I recently bought a Street Glide. You?”

  “My uncle gave me his Heritage. Needs a little work, but he gave me a pretty sweet deal.”

  Lovely. As a day job, Kory works as a mechanic. Now I get to hear him go off on one of his motor-head rants. I’d glare at him if I weren’t afraid Jace would see and think I’m a bitch for infringing on their dude convo.

  “What year?” Jace asks.

  “I’ll be right back,” I say, hopping down from the stool and heading for the bathrooms.

  I’m not exactly surprised when I wobble a little on my feet, having drank all six beers without “breaking the seal” or bothering to stand. And I remember a second too late that I have to walk past Decker to get to the bathrooms. Before I can turn back, he’s standing directly in my path, smiling like a complete lunatic.

  2

  Jace

  It seems like I’d never find this dive town, tucked away in an obscure maze of cornfields. My ass was tired of riding, I was seeing double lines in the road, and paranoia that I’d get pulled over was almost too much to keep going. Bugsy wasn’t kidding when he had described Chesterville as being in the middle of bum-fuck nowhere. But it was worth the journey alone to have crossed paths with Phoebe. Even though I’m only here for one thing, and I swore to myself after the last cock-up of a relationship that I was done with women. Even though it’s dangerous and stupid to get involved with anyone.

  But Christ, she’s the first person I’ve really talked to since shit went down, and it doesn’t hurt that she’s hot as hell. The way she dips her chin every time her cheeks turn dark pink and two dimples appear is one of the cutest things I’ve ever seen. She’s so damn quirky and…fun.

  I was immediately drawn into her milk-chocolate eyes and sandy hair with electric blue ends. Just like her legs, those smooth curls of hers go on forever, falling over her freckled shoulder in a way so tempting that I want to twist them around my fingers. In addition to a colorful Day of the Dead tattoo covering one of her biceps, I get the feeling she’s hiding more. And so help me, I want to search for every last piece of art on that satiny canvas.

  The outfit she’s wearing leaves plenty to the imagination, but there’s no hiding the large swells of her tits or the firmness of her ass once she hops off the bar stool and heads for the bathrooms. I have to shift my dick around in my jeans before I snarl with pent-up frustration.

  “What’s her story?” I ask Kory. “She seems cool.”

  “She is,” he confirms with a nod. “And she’s not some kind of slut like her ex wants everyone to believe.” Then he rests his hands on the bar and his eyes darken. “She’s also a good friend, so if I hear you’ve been messing with her, you’ll have to answer to me.”

  He’s a fairly big dude and easily has a few inches on my 6.2 feet, but with all the years of special training I’ve endured, I could still take him with one hand tied behind my back. Not that I’d want to since he’s ready to go up against someone as fucked up as I am to protect Phoebe.

  “Sounds like you ought to be more worried about her dickhead ex,” I reply, drawing my eyebrows down. “Did she seriously hook up with that guy?”

  “They used to go out awhile back.” Shrugging, he hands me a freshly-poured drink. “I won’t argue he’s a dickhead, but she’s not the type to tolerate anyone laying a hand on her.”

  “That you know of,”
I say with a growl, having been raised by a woman who was too scared to speak out against the cowards that hit her. My gut tightens when I think of everything my mother endured because she was too timid to stand up for herself. It surprises me that someone like Phoebe willingly got involved with anyone like that guy in the first place. “How long were they together?”

  “A little less than a year before she discovered he was messing around and she finally left his pathetic ass. I tried telling her a million times that he was a prick, but she’s stubborn as hell and wouldn’t listen. She’s the type that has to figure things out for herself.”

  Anger strikes through my core. That asshole didn’t know how good he had it.

  Noticing Kory’s wearing a wedding band, I ask, “Your wife friends with her?”

  “They hang out sometimes when Phoebe’s with me, but my wife is busy with our baby. Phoebe doesn't have a lot of friends, but they're mostly all guys. She’s chill that way and not really into the usual girly shit. She’d rather hang somewhere and listen to heavy rock than go shopping.”

  Glaring at the clowns in back, I wonder how someone as easy-going as Phoebe got mixed up with one of the rednecks she obviously despises. I get the feeling there’s a lot more to her story than she’s sharing, and suddenly I want to know all of it. But how much would she be willing to tell me when there’s so little I can tell her about myself? And although she could be a good resource for helping me find what I came for since she’s from here, it sickens me to think of her becoming involved. It’s best to keep her in the dark.

  When I realize her ex isn’t among the mix with his buddies, I whirl back around to Kory. “Where’d the dickhead go?”

  He shrugs. “Probably taking a lea—oh, shit.”

  Jumping off my stool, I hightail it toward the back, ready to crack the guy’s skull if he’s anywhere near Phoebe. As I pass the pack of fools gathered around the pool table, a scrappy kid steps in my way. “Where you goin’, tough guy?”

  I shove him out of my way with ease and continue back toward the hallway leading to the bathrooms where I hear Phoebe yelling, “…seriously have no idea what you’re talking about, ya psycho asswad!”

  “I know you took it!” he yells back. “You really think you can just fuck me over like this? Do I have to remind you what I can do?”

  “I’d suggest you get the hell off of me before I break every last one of your goddamned fingers!” she tells him.

  Adrenaline shoots through my veins as I take off running, reminding me of how it felt when spotting an Ali Baba, who meant to do one of the locals harm, on the loose in Afghanistan.

  I find them at the end of the hallway. Phoebe’s fighting like hell to break free as he’s pushing up against her with a hand wrapped around her throat. Hooking my arm around the dirty bastard’s neck, I toss him aside. A satisfied burn spreads through my chest as he tumbles to the tile floor.

  “What the fuck?” he yells.

  Ignoring him, I turn to gently take Phoebe’s arm. Though she’s visibly shaking and her eyes are closed, she seems unharmed. She’s so petite that I feel like a giant hovering over a little kid. And that cowardly motherfucker, who is closer to my size, was hurting her. Everything turns hazy before my eyes as the need to knock out every last one of his teeth jars me to my core.

  “You all right?” I manage through clenched teeth.

  Though she’s nodding and her pretty little mouth bends with a smile, I can still feel her trembling. With a snarl, I turn back to her pathetic ex, ready to rip him apart. He scrambles back to his feet and skitters backwards, launching a spittle of chew onto the floor.

  “Who the fuck you think you are?” he asks.

  “I’m the guy that’s going to teach you a lesson on how to treat a woman, you pathetic piece of shit.” I stalk toward him. At my sides, my hands are curled into fists.

  Phoebe’s warm little fingers wrap around my elbow, pulling me backward. “Jace, don’t. Trust me when I say he isn’t worth it.”

  “Are you sticking it to her now?” her ex asks, coming after me. “Buddy, you obviously know nothing about her. This girl has not only been around the block and then some, but she’s as shady as they come. And you’re way too young for her taste.”

  Making a choking-laugh noise, Phoebe pulls me back some more. “Decker, go home before I call your dad and let him know you’ve been drinking. I’m guessing your dumb ass drove up here, too. Are you trying to collect DWIs now in addition to STDs?”

  Decker blanches for a second before pulling his shoulders back and sneering. “Go ahead, call him. He can arrest this asshole for assault while he’s here.”

  “You think that was assault?” Phoebe drops my elbow and starts toward him. Her slap across his face cracks across the small hallway. “That’s what you call assault, asshole. If you ever touch me again, I’ll file charges. I’d love to see how that works out for your dad when he’s up for re-election this fall.”

  The veins on Decker’s neck become engorged as his face turns a dark shade of red. I spring forward to grab Phoebe before he does something stupid. I wouldn’t put anything past the moron.

  “He ever touches you like that again and it won’t be possible to file anything against him,” I promise. I pull her back into the safety of my arms, surprised by how natural it feels. It’s like she’s where she belongs. Glaring into asshole’s beady little eyes, I add, “You feel me?”

  “I’d strongly advise against throwing terroristic threats at the sheriff’s son,” he replies, sneering.

  Shit. The sheriff’s kid? That’s something I can’t get afford to get mixed up in no matter how badly I want to kick his ass. Besides, I don’t want to let go of Phoebe. Holding her little body against mine is the best feeling I’ve had in months. It’s almost like my heart is able to freely beat once again, erasing the unease that’s been crippling me for so long. Instead of going after her ex, I grip her a little more tightly to remind myself what this is about.

  “You know nothing about terrorism, punk,” I tell Decker, barely able to contain the growl climbing up my throat. “You think I should be afraid because you have connections? With one phone call, twenty-two of the scariest men you’ll ever meet would show up to have my back, and I guarantee they wouldn’t give two shits that your daddy’s a sheriff. You’d piss yourself before they even started beating your ass.”

  Decker laughs like he doesn’t believe me. “What? You in some kind of gang?”

  “Something like that. This is the only warning I’m giving you to stay the hell away from her. If you don’t listen, you and I are going to have a big problem, and it’s one you won’t be able to fix. Now get the fuck out of here before I change my mind about letting you walk away.”

  The little puke spits one more time and cuts Phoebe a dark glare before starting for a door at the end of the hallway. Once we’ve watched him slip into the back alley, I gently squeeze my arms around Phoebe one last time before taking her hand and carefully pulling her around.

  “Let’s get you out of here,” I say.

  As we pass Decker’s friends, they appear too nervous to make eye contact, so I’m guessing they listened on our little exchange. At least I got my message across. I squeeze Phoebe’s small hand in mine when I catch her eyes skipping around the bar like she’s waiting for her ex to make another appearance.

  “You’re okay. He’s not going to mess with you again.”

  “This is far from over,” she replies with a shake of her head. “Decker doesn’t like being humiliated. He’s probably outside messing with your motorcycle as we speak.”

  “I’d love to see him start something so I’d have an excuse to drop his ass.” I stop walking and look down into her big brown eyes. What the hell is it about this girl that has me wanting to do anything to protect her? “I meant what I said, Phoebe. I’d break his arm before I’d let him attack you like that again.”

  Suddenly she’s throwing herself into my arms and hugging me tightly. Her tits pres
sing into me are the biggest temptation I’ve faced in forever. Is she that soft everywhere? Shit, I have no right thinking about her that way. How in the hell did I manage to get myself in this situation?

  “Thanks for…you know. For whatever reason you stopped here tonight, I’m grateful, but you shouldn’t have stepped in like that. You’re too good to become mixed up in my mess.”

  She’s wrong. Even more than before, I want to know her story. But why does she assume I’m too good for her?

  It doesn’t hit home that I’ve made promises that I can’t keep until she’s collecting her purse and having a whispered conversation with Kory behind the bar. How can I keep her safe from that dickwad Decker when I have to stay under the radar and won’t be in town very long?

  Kory’s darkened gaze snaps over to me. “Can I talk to you for a minute outside?”

  “Don’t worry, he’s just playing the usual role of an overprotective friend,” Phoebe assures me, in a wavering voice. “It’s not you, it’s me. And he’s been this way forever.” Her lips twitch when she tries to throw me a smile. Realizing she’s still shook up makes me want to run back and throw Decker through a fucking wall.

  Nodding to Kory, I shuffle for the front door with Kory behind me. We step out together into the muggy night where several lights illuminate what must be the city’s main street. Boarded up windows alternate with only a few mom and pop stores that have enough dirt on their display windows with faded, hand-painted signs that it appears they’re no longer in business. When I first pulled onto Main Street, I was struck with the eerie sensation that I was traveling through a ghost town. It’s depressing to think Bugsy grew up here, and I can finally appreciate why he compared some of the crap-hole villages we’d pass in Afghanistan to his hometown.

  Kory squares up in front of me, folding his thick arms over his chest. “Phoebe told me she’s inviting you back to spend the night on her couch. She says you make her feel safe.”