Slade rolled off the uncomfortable single-size bed in his spare bedroom. He hoped that the knocking hadn’t awoken Jessica. She’d had a rough night last night and needed her sleep. It was her first night out of the hospital. But who was he kidding? The knocking could’ve woken up the dead. He fumbled for a pair of navy blue sweatpants that he’d thrown on the floor the previous night and slipped them on, followed by a white T-shirt. Leaving the room, he quickly peeked into his bedroom, where Jessica seemed to continue to sleep in his comfy king-size bed, unfazed by all the noise. He closed the door and padded downstairs quickly. The knocking and shrill voice needed to stop. He flung the door open to come face-to-face with a tiny blond woman, whose voice matched her body. Small, fiery, and annoying as all hell. Charlene, Charlotte, Chanel?
“Slade,” Chelsey whined.
“What the hell, Chantel?”
From the corner of his eye, he saw Chrissy and Jack walk across their lawn to his, Chrissy holding on to a leash with one hand, the other in a sling. And attached to the end of the superfluous leash was the bane of Slade’s existence: a five-pound Chihuahua that hated Slade. The feeling was mutual.
“Yo.” Jack tilted his head up at Slade in the universal guy-hello nod, and Chrissy waved with a smile as they approached. Drogo growled.
“Chastity.”
“What?” Slade asked as he looked back down at the woman.
“You said Chantel, and it’s Chastity. How could you not remember? We’ve been dating for months, you asshole!”
Chastity? Really?
“Go home, Chastity.”
Jack snorted. “Chastity? Yeah right,” he whispered. Chrissy slapped him across the chest.
“Yeah, okay, whatever. Listen, you gotta stop with the knocking. What the hell time is it, anyway?” He ran his hands through his unruly hair as he yawned. His eyes skidded down to her tiny jean shorts, tight Bon Jovi T-shirt, and flip-flops.
“You better not have another woman in there, Slade!”
“Wait! What?” He stood forward and shut the door behind him. “Keep your voice down.”
The tiny blonde stood with her foot tapping. “I’ve been calling you for over a week and you haven’t answered my calls or texts.” She was right—he hadn’t answered her calls, or anyone else’s, for that matter. All he’d been doing for the last week and a half was worrying about the woman who was currently lying in his bed, injured. After months of mutual, yet innocent, flirtation with Jessica, Slade had finally thought she’d leave her abusive boyfriend, Dennis. To his horror, he had instead found her in a hospital bed just ten days ago, beaten to a bloody pulp. And it was all his fault. The guilt had been eating away at him, and the least he could do was tend to her while she recovered. It wasn’t lost on him that he wanted her in other ways too, but now wasn’t the time to explore those feelings. God, he wished he were upstairs in bed with her. Instead, he had to deal with the woman currently shooting daggers at him.
As Slade opened his mouth to answer, the woman got on the tips of her toes, flung her arms around his neck, and pressed her red lips against his. It was so sudden and the height difference was so great, he had no choice but to hold on to her so he wouldn’t lose his footing.
“Dude, not good. Stupid move,” Jack said, shaking his head. Slade tried to push her away, but the woman was an octopus—even though her lips had detached, her hands continued to snake around his neck, chest, and back. Chrissy just stood there, her mouth open, her eyes moving past him. He finally got Chastity disconnected and was able to distance himself from her tentacles before slowly turning his head. Jessica stood behind him, staring, her hand holding his front door open. Shit!
“Oh, Slade.” Chrissy winced.
“You cheating son of a bitch!” Chastity said as she wound her hand back and slapped him right across the face.
“Jesus!” Slade palmed his stinging cheek. “I didn’t cheat on you!” He took a deep, calming breath before he continued. He softened his voice and proceeded with caution. “Come on, doll, you know I never lied to you. Admit it, it was fun for you too.” Doll. That’s a good one. You can’t hit (or re-hit) a man who just called you doll. Then, for good measure, he gave her one of his I’m-not-really-sorry-but-who-wouldn’t-love-this-sweet-face smiles.
Chastity looked up at him through batted lashes and Slade could’ve sworn he saw her blush. Maybe even sigh.
Crazy-ass woman!
At that same moment, a red Corvette peeled onto Slade’s lawn. With the engine still running, a tall strawberry blonde in a business suit got out and marched awkwardly toward the house, her spiky heels digging into the grass with every step she took. The group all turned their heads.
“Son of a motherfucker!” Slade said as he banged his head against the wall by the front door. He looked back at Jessica, who looked mystified. The bruising on her face had yellowed a little, and her hair was still ruffled from sleep. She had yet to say a word.
“Baby, I hope you brought chairs. This is about to get real good,” Jack said, amused. Chrissy slapped his chest once again and shushed him. His best friend was really enjoying Slade’s shitty morning. Prick.
As the woman got closer, she yelled, “You cheating son of a bitch!” Once she was within range, she too swung her hand back and slapped Slade across the face. “Who the hell are you, you … tramp?” the woman yelled at Chastity as she looked her up and down.
“I’m his girl. Who the hell are you?”
“I’m Lisa. The one who’s been screwing his brains out for the last four months, bitch.” Then she turned to Slade. “I can’t believe you would cheat on me with this flip-flop-wearing floozy.”
“Hey!” Chastity yelled. “I ain’t no floozy, ho. He’s been screwing me for longer than that, honey. You must’ve gotten my sloppy seconds. Besides, there’s another one.” Chastity pointed over Slade’s shoulder to Jessica.
Jessica put her hands up in surrender and shook her head. “No! Oh no, I’m just a friend. I haven’t been screwing anything. Don’t get me into this.”
“Stop!” Slade yelled. “Both of you. Out of here. Lisa, Charlotte—”
“Chastity!” Jack, Chrissy, and Chastity all corrected him.
Slade pinched his nose and groaned. “Whatever the fuck.… We never agreed we were exclusive. We were just having fun. Fun’s over. I’m sorry if I gave you the wrong impression. I have always been very up front with you two. Now, please, both of you, leave, and don’t call or come by again.” The two women continued to bicker. “Chrissy, Jack, go away. Walk your dog or something.” Chrissy gave Jessica an apologetic look before being led to the sidewalk by Jack.
“Dumbass.” Jack threw a smirk over his shoulder and flicked him the middle finger.
“Dick,” Slade yelled to his best friend before slamming the door shut on them all.
So Slade was a man-whore. That wasn’t news. What was news was that Jessica felt a pang of … something. Jealousy? Hurt? For the last ten days, Slade hadn’t left her side. And before the incident with her shitty ex-boyfriend, Dennis, he’d pursued her for months and months. She knew he was attracted to her, as she was to him. Not one to mince words, he had told her time and time again how much he wanted her. But she also knew that everyone in Tarpon Springs with a vagina (well, except for his sister) was attracted to him. Seriously, the man was gorgeous. Six feet five inches of pure muscle, with beautiful blue eyes that contrasted severely with his jet black hair—hell, even men took notice. But since he’d been so sweet, tending to her as she recuperated, she had felt somewhat special. Well, the two bickering women were like a douse of cold water that she desperately needed. She considered herself reminded: Slade was a whore, and that was a fact.
Slade looked at Jessica softly as he gripped the back of his neck. He didn’t move from the hallway by the front door, and he seemed concerned and apologetic. When their eyes locked, something bubbled up inside, and suddenly she found herself trying to hold back a fit of laughter.
“What’s so fu
nny?” He smiled at her.
She held her stomach as she began to cackle. “Y-y-you you look like a hand turkey!”
“A what?” His eyebrows furrowed.
She continued to laugh uncontrollably, and when she could speak again she said, “You know in school when kids trace their hands to draw a turkey?” He shrugged uncertainly and she continued. “You have five fingers perfectly imprinted in bright red on each cheek. They slapped you good, playboy.”
“Ha ha.”
“I can’t believe they were ready to fight like that over you. I mean, really, you’re great to look at and all, but seriously? Have some self-respect. And the smile—oh, please. How could they fall for the world’s cheesiest, most insincere smile? You need better-quality women, Slade.”
“Don’t laugh, sweetheart. First, it was completely sincere. Second, I think you got a little jealous there and you’re using humor to deflect.”
“I am not jealous.”
He ignored her comment. “And third, if you’d had me, you’d fight for me too.” He wagged his eyebrows.
Then he gave her the smile. The corners of his full lips tilted and curved up; his perfect white teeth sparkled. The amusement lit his face all the way to his blue eyes, which crinkled at the corners.
And … she went all gooey inside. She would totally slap a bitch right now—he was right. Damn him.
In an attempt to come out of her Slade’s-smile-induced trance, she shoved his shoulders. “I don’t know about that. No offense, but I couldn’t date someone who had a harem.”
“I don’t have a harem.”
“I beg to differ.”
“Well, I bet if you finally gave in to what we both know you want and went on a date with me, you’d be falling all over yourself if you thought another woman was sniffing around.”
“Cocky bastard.”
“Mmm … I like it when you say ‘cock.’ ”
Jessica laughed. “Pig.” She wiped the tears from her face. “And anyway, I don’t get jealous.”
“Bullshit. Everyone gets jealous, especially women.”
“Not me. It’s not in me. Never been jealous.”
“You probably just haven’t been with a man you’ve really liked.”
“Arrogant.”
“I prefer cocky,” he said. She grinned. She loved Slade’s sense of humor. His light and carefree disposition in general was such a breath of fresh air.
“Slade, you’ve been awesome. I’m so grateful that you’ve been taking care of me for the past couple of weeks, but really, I think it’s time I went home.”
“No. You need rest, you just got out of the hospital. I feel responsible that this happened. If you hadn’t been trying to help me, Dennis wouldn’t have—”
She stepped closer to him and lifted her palm to his mouth to quiet him. “It wasn’t the first time he hit me.” She looked down, unable to meet his gaze at the shame of her admission. She gathered strength and met his eyes, her palm still against his mouth. “Me defending you, it didn’t make a difference. He would’ve found some other excuse to hit me. This is not your fault. Not one bit. I don’t even know how I could ever repay you for everything. Really. Thank you.”
He took hold of her wrist, pressed her hand closer to his mouth, and kissed her palm. The tender gesture startled her, causing her to pull her hand back.
“Let’s make a deal. You stay with me, at least for another week or two, until your physical therapist gives you the all-clear, and then you can go on a date with me as repayment.”
“I don’t think so, Slade.”
“Come on. One date. You don’t like it, no hard feelings.” Jessica pondered his proposal. What did she really have to lose? “If I’m no big deal, as you seem to think, saying no to me after one date should be easy,” he added.
“Fine, Martin. It’s a deal.”
Slade smiled his toothy, devilish smile.
The next morning, Slade was leaning against her, so close he could smell the soapy scent of her shampoo. His mouth lingered above her neck longer than necessary, and if she shifted just an inch, their lips would brush together.
He saw her throat bobbing, as if she were trying to swallow or clear her throat. “I can buckle my own seatbelt, Slade.” She croaked.
“Sorry. Sorry. I don’t know why I did that.” For some reason he couldn’t explain, he had this primal need to take care of her, completely.
“What are you going to do while I’m at physical therapy?” she asked as they drove.
“Have some things I have to talk to Silva about at the gym.”
“How’s the old man doing?”
“Not so good. I think he’s thinking of selling Worth the Fight Academy. After his heart attack, he hasn’t been the same. I’ve taken over almost all the training.”
“That’s terrible. What would you do? That’s your second home. You love that place.”
“Yeah, I know.” Slade thought about life without WtF Academy and it was something he couldn’t wrap his head around. Since he was nineteen he’d been training there, and for the last eight years he’d helped Marcelo Silva train other fighters. He loved it. It was more than a job for him. He pulled in at the PT’s office and parked his car.
“You don’t have to walk me in. I got it.”
Slade ignored her as he walked around, opened the door, and helped her out. She looked frail and her breathing was still a little off. The son of a bitch had really done a number on her. They walked side by side toward the entrance, and when their hands grazed as they both reached for the door at the same time, she snapped her head to him, her cheeks flushed. He had felt it too. The electricity. It hadn’t been the first time, either. Since the day they’d met, they’d had a connection. Every time they accidentally touched, it was like an electrical shock. When they stepped inside the PT reception, she signed her name and sat down, insisting he leave. He planned to just wait for them to call her name.
“Jessica Cross?” a statuesque woman in scrubs called out from the little window. Jessica and Slade made their way over to her. When he saw the woman, he groaned.
“Slade? Hi! It’s been a long time.” She winked and leaned her body into the window.
“Hey, Fiona. You work here now?”
“Yes. I’m almost finished with school. Trying to learn the ropes so I can work here full-time when I get my PT license.”
“So … you called Jessica?” Fiona had been smiling dreamily at Slade and had forgotten all about Jessica, but at the mention of her name she seemed to snap out of it. “Oh—uh, yeah, here. Please fill this out.” She handed her a clipboard full of documents. “The therapist will be with you shortly.” Jessica took the papers and turned toward the chair, Slade following behind her.
“Hey, Slade, I’m free in an hour if you wanna—” Fiona’s words ended suggestively.
“Can’t” was all Slade said before sitting down next to Jessica. The woman slammed the little window shut.
Jessica slid him a sideways glance. “Don’t mind me. Feel free to go out with one of your harem-ettes.”
Slade barked out a laugh. “Seriously, Jess. Where do you come up with these things? She’s not in my harem. I don’t have a harem. And anyway, I’m not interested.” His eyes bored into hers in a way that seemed to make her nervous.
“Jessica Cross?” A lean man in his early thirties, wearing scrubs, interrupted their staring. Slade trailed after Jessica as she met the man by the door. “I’m your therapist. Seth Rossing.” He smiled, and Slade turned to see Jessica grinning back. Son of a bitch!
“There are no women therapists?” Slade asked, his voice huskier than usual. Seth and Jessica both looked back at him.
“Slade!” Jessica hissed.
He tried to recover quickly. “I—uh—it’s just that she needs someone delicate. She was very badly injured.”
Seth turned and led Jessica into the room, his hand on her lower back. “I’ll be gentle. Sorry, only the patient’s allowed inside,” Seth inf
ormed him before Slade could follow behind them.
“See you in an hour, Slade,” Jessica said as the door closed.
Instead of going to tend to his work obligations with Silva, Slade decided to wait. There was a man currently feeling Jessica up on the other side of the door. He sat down, grabbed a magazine that was seven years old, flipped through it, and tossed it aside. He stood up again and paced the room, his mind drifting to thoughts of Jessica. For nearly two weeks, the moment he had first seen Jessica in the hospital had haunted his mind.
Slade ran through the hospital doors.
“Jessica Cross? I need to see Jessica Cross,” he said to the woman who sat in the reception area of the hospital. The woman typed something into her computer system.
“Is that two esses?” Slade’s eyes narrowed in confusion. What the hell was she talking about?
“What?” he yelled impatiently.
“Is that Jessica with two esses?”
“Are you kidding me right now?” He slammed his palms onto the desk and leaned into the woman. Her cheeks became noticeably flamed. “Is there any other way of spelling it? Of course it’s Jessica with two esses.”
The woman stared at him for a moment before going back to her computer. “And before you ask, it’s Cross with two esses as well.” She looked up, nodded timidly, and went back to typing.
“Here she is. She is in the critical care unit, room three twelve. Follow this hall to the end, take the elevators to the third floor, and you’ll see the sign for critical care. Only immediate family allowed.”
Without a second thought he answered, “I’m her brother.”
She nodded her approval and he took off toward Jessica.
As soon as he found the correct room, he knocked. He heard a faint sound and walked in.
“Slade?” Jessica whispered.
Against the Cage (Worth the Fight #1) Page 24
