Protecting Her Heart

by Chance Carter

  Concern flickered over his expression when I approached. "Everything okay?"

  "Oh yeah," I said, waving a hand dismissively. "Nothing I can't handle, but I've got to leave the bar for a sec. Want another beer in case it takes me a few minutes?"

  "Does it have anything to do with what happened to your eye?" Jack asked.

  I frowned. Now my good mood had officially been trampled on and mud-soaked.

  "I don't think that's any of your business."

  He didn't flinch. "I wasn't trying to pry," he said. "You seem like you can handle your own. I just hate the thought of a nice girl like you getting caught up in something nasty. I can help."

  It could have been condescending if he didn't seem so genuine in his intention. Jack really did want to help. He didn't know what it was or what it might be that I needed help with, but he'd picked up my subliminal distress signals and was at the ready if I needed him. Unfortunately, like all things where my boyfriend was concerned, I needed to handle this one alone.

  "Your concern has been noted," I said with an appreciative head nod. "I'm fine. Just a little bar business. Now do you want another drink or not?"

  He smiled and shook his head. "I'll wait until you're back."

  I nodded and walked down to the other end of the counter, stepping out onto the bar I could feel Jack watching me. It was oddly comforting, and I found myself walking with my head high and my shoulders square and straight.

  Chapter 5

  Jack

  God, she was beautiful.

  When I first walked into this shitty dive bar she shone out like a beacon of light, drawing me forward with promises of a cold drink and a warm smile. I'd never wanted someone so much in my life, which right off the bat meant this girl was trouble. Her sweetness was at odds with the fire raging under her skin, like her smile was just honeyed bait and anyone who got too close might soon find their hides torn by her ragged teeth. I couldn't help thinking that I wouldn't mind that so much, actually.

  I watched her tight little ass sashay over to the table at the far side of the room that I soon noticed was composed of real meathead looking dudes who'd been pissing me off since the second I stepped in. I didn't like loudmouths. They were only ever loud for some reason, and it was never because they had anything to say. The inadequacies of strangers didn't make a great bar soundtrack, but I soon was able to forget them after spending a single second in the company of the effervescent Melissa.

  Her short, dark curls bobbed as she spoke to the men at the table, one of whom in particular was glaring at her sourly. He rose, and they started heading outside. I nearly gave in to the desire to follow them, but it really wasn't my place. I'd already overstepped by asking her about the eye. I couldn't help it. I didn't even know the girl and I already wanted to smash the teeth in of whoever did that to her. I imagined someone giving a black eye like that to my sister and saw red.

  When the door closed behind Melissa, I turned back to my drink and took a sip. I'd downed nearly the whole beer, and it was starting to ease the full-body ache I was experiencing, though the sharp pain in my ribs refused to abate.

  "You're that fighter guy, aren't you?" the guy beside me asked.

  I looked over to see he had his whole body turned toward me, one hand resting on his paint-stained jeans. He was an older fella, probably in his late fifties or early sixties, though he still had a full head of grizzled salt and pepper hair sticking out at every angle on his head. His face was a peachy pink that told me he'd already had a few tonight, and I wondered if I was going to end up having to tell another nosy drunk to fuck off.

  "I saw you scrap over in Rutina a few months ago," he continued when I still didn't answer. "You were incredible. Your hands were so quick I knew the second you started that the other guy didn't have a chance."

  "Thanks."

  I turned back to face the wall behind the bar, disinterested in playing out the rest of the conversation. People occasionally recognized me and wanted to talk about my fights, but they soon learned that wasn't a topic of conversation I was open to.

  I fought because I needed to and I was good at it, not because I enjoyed it. Sure, I enjoyed letting out the tightness in my muscles, drawing on every last drop of anger and rage that swam in my veins and putting it into a punch, but I took shame in that enjoyment. It wouldn't matter if I was fighting the biggest asshole in the world, I would still be overly conscious of the fact that my mom would have disapproved and that was enough to make me want to forget it entirely.

  "You here looking for a fight?" the guy pressed.

  Jeez, couldn't he take a hint?

  I scowled into my drink and upended it, draining the last few mouthfuls, then cleared my throat. "No."

  "Probably for the best," he said. "You look like you've had all you can handle tonight."

  I was getting really tired of people commenting on the fact that I'd obviously had the shit kicked out of me. My shoulders tightened and I shot a glare in the nosy guy's direction.

  "Is there something I can help you with?"

  His eyes widened and he shook his head. "No, no. I'm sorry, son. I didn't mean no offense. I guess I'm a little star struck is all." He chuckled at his joke, but his face fell when he saw I wasn't chuckling too. "Hey, when Melissa gets back I'll buy you your next beer," he said. "I didn't mean to step on your toes and I can tell I have."

  He was clearly a nice guy and I felt bad for making him so antsy. I sighed and faced him again, forcing my lips up in the corners in a way I hoped would come across as friendly.

  "It's no problem," I said. "I've just had a long night. As you and everyone else here can plainly see."

  "Name's Neil Buckins," he said, extending a hand toward me.

  "Jack Paxton."

  We shook hands and Neil took a swig of beer, some of it dribbling into his wiry beard.

  "I heard you talking to Melissa. You're from Bell Springs?"

  "Yup. Just passing through."

  "You just go from town to town, looking for fights? How does that work?"

  "No, it's not like that." I didn't really want to talk about fighting, but talking to Neil seemed like a good way to pass the time until Melissa got back. The longer she was gone, the more anxious I was to go out back and make sure she was okay. I decided I'd give it another couple of minutes and then I'd let myself give in to that compulsion.

  "I get a call every few weeks or months from a guy who fixes fights for me. He gives me a time and a place, I go. Simple as that."

  “So you’re only a part-time fighter,” Neil mused. “What do you do when you’re not out there cracking skulls? Or are you just making enough money that you don’t need to worry about it?”

  I studied him, but could detect no sign of malice in his intent. He was just a chatty old man and I was the new, exciting exhibit at his local bar.

  “You ask a lot of questions.”

  He grinned, exposing a set of teeth that were whiter and straighter than I would have pegged him for. “I’m a curious kind of guy.”

  “I’m sorry to disappoint you then. I’m just an average construction worker most of the time. There’s not a lot of work back home, but I take it when it comes up.”

  “Interesting.” Neil stroked his beard and shuffled closer on his stool. “And you say you’re just passing through?”

  “Yup.”

  “Any chance I could compel you to stay?”

  I cocked a suspicious brow and leaned away from him. I still couldn’t figure out whether I liked the weirdo or not.

  “Why would you want me to do that?”

  “It’s nothing shady, I promise. I’m managing a new development they’re putting up on the outskirts of town. We need as many hands as we can get, and yours seem about as strong and capable as they come.”

  I laughed, shaking my head in bemusement. “You don’t know anything about me except that I’m a good fighter.”

  “That says a lot about a man though, don’t you think? You’re stron
g, dedicated, and persistent. That’s more than I can say for most of my guys.”

  He clearly picked up my disinterest, and in one last flagging attempt he produced a business card from his wallet and slid it over in front of me on the bar.

  “Just think about it,” he said. “There may not be much work in Bell Springs, but there’s lots here with this new contract. And it’s not so bad a place. Unless there’s something keeping you in Bell Springs of course.” He grinned slyly. “But from what I saw of how much you were checking out Melissa, I’d bet my hat that you’re an unattached man.”

  He was awkward and a little strange, but I liked Neil. I liked his lack of inhibition and there was something very sincere about him. That didn’t mean I would stay in Cannon and work for him, but it was enough for me to take his card.

  Briefly, I allowed myself to wonder what it would be like if I did stay in Cannon. Maybe I could get to know the Alibi’s beautiful bartender a little more. Would it be so bad to be away from home? It wasn’t like I had anything there other than a run down house and a load of childhood memories. The memories were probably to blame for me staying there so long. Bell Sprins and Sadie were the only things I had left to connect me to my mom, and since Sadie was away at college I didn’t have much of her either.

  If I was going to leave Bell Springs though, I needed more of a reason than just a possible job offer from some half-cut hick I met at a dive bar after getting the shit kicked out of me a town over. I didn’t tend to waste too much time planning things, but I took a little more care than that.

  “Thanks, Neil,” I said, tucking the card into my back pocket.

  I was about to say something else to him, something casual to move the conversation away from me, but a movement at the side of the room caught my eye. Melissa and the guy she went outside with were coming back inside, and from their expressions I could tell the conversation hadn’t gone well.

  Melissa was walking straight for the bar, jaw set tight, the guy trailing behind her looking like he was about to murder someone. He grabbed her arm and wrenched her to a stop. My hand tightened into a fist and I sat up straighter, ready to dive into the fray.

  “Thought you weren’t looking for a fight?” asked Neil with a smile as wide and toothy as a crocodile’s.

  I ignored him, too focused on Melissa. She whirled on the guy and snapped something at him, then gestured toward the back hallway. He yanked her closer and then shoved her back toward the hallway, following as she stumbled down it.

  “I’m not,” I said.

  I wished I hadn’t drank the rest of my beer already. I could have used some cold refreshment to brace me for whatever situation I was about to get myself into. I rose to my feet.

  Neil raised a quizzical brow as I rose to my feet. “That’s not what it looks like.”

  “No,” I said. “I’m not looking for a fight, but it sure as hell looks like that guy is.”

  Chapter 6

  Melissa

  Donnie was such an asshole when he was drunk. He was king of the assholes, crowned and anointed. The only good thing that ever came out of him being drunk was that he usually couldn’t get it up, so I didn’t have to deal with his stinking breath blasting on my face while he clapped himself on the back for “rocking my world”.

  I should have been used to it and yet I found myself breaking down in tears as he forced me down the back hallway so he could continue our conversation. If you could call it that. Apparently me telling Donnie to tell his friend to keep his hands to himself or get out was grounds for an argument, even though it wasn't even my ass Matt had grabbed.

  Donnie thought I was trying to boss him around and Donnie did not like being bossed around. He was used to occupying the upper echelons of Cannon "society", and people rarely told him no. This occasion didn't have to be quite so explosive, but I could tell he was itching for a fight from the moment he stepped through the door. I just happened to be his favorite person to fight with.

  Donnie blocked me against the wall, one hand on either side of my head. His breath reeked of beer and cigarettes, and when he talked spittle covered my cheek.

  "Who the fuck do you think is in charge here, bitch?" he slurred.

  "Donnie, you're wasted. Let's talk about this when you're sober."

  We weren't even fighting about the ass-grabbing anymore. I couldn't say what it was Donnie hoped to achieve from this confrontation, but I wasn't interested.

  I tried to duck his arm, but he lowered it and got right up in my ear, hissing, "You'll go when I say you can go. We're not done."

  "What do you want?" I snapped back.

  He pulled back and grinned lecherously. "Just a little kiss from my doting girlfriend. And a little fucking respect."

  "Not now." I grimaced at the thought of his mouth on me. "Let me go."

  "No."

  "I have to get back to work."

  "I own this place. I call the shots."

  This wasn't the first time Donnie had said something to that effect and it wouldn't be the first time I corrected him, but I wasn't feeling up to fighting with him about the ownership of the bar, nor did I feel like spending even a second longer in his company.

  I dropped into a squat and slid along the wall until I was far enough away from Donnie to stand up unhindered, then started fast-walking toward the rest of the bar. If I could just get there...

  "Hey!" Donnie barked after me. "I'm not done with you!"

  I gritted my teeth and kept walking. This was the kind of mood he was in when he hit me before, and I wondered if he would be ballsy enough to do that here, in front of everyone he knew. I doubted it, but I wanted to escape to the safety of the bar before I had the chance to find out.

  I exhaled a sigh of relief when I reentered the busy space, though Donnie's stomping footsteps behind me were hardly comforting. At least he would have to drag me back by force if he wanted to continue the conversation without an audience.

  "I said I'm not done with you!"

  "I think you are."

  The voice was one that I didn't know well but had committed to memory the first time I heard it. Honey. Gravel. Sex. Who else would it be standing up for my rescue other than the hunky stranger, Jack?

  I turned, seeing that Jack had intercepted Donnie and was now standing between us, his back to me.

  "What did you say?" Donnie growled. "Who the fuck are you?"

  "I'm the guy who's telling you that Melissa deserves better than to be disrespected by a drunk asshole like you. And I'm the guy who's going to make sure you don't do it again."

  His powerful baritone may as well have shaken the floor and walls. It felt like it did to me, at least, and everyone around had stopped and taken notice. The music was still playing, but the humming of chatter was nowhere to be found. Everyone in the Alibi was curious to see how this would play out.

  "Melissa, get over here." Donnie pointed to the spot in front of him. "Before I get mad."

  "I'm going back to work," I said levelly. "We can talk when I'm finished."

  "We'll talk now!"

  "She said no, shit for brains," Jack boomed. "I suggest you go sober up and take a good hard look at yourself in the mirror."

  "You've got some nerve… She’s my girlfriend and this is none of your business." Donnie's friends had gathered behind him, all cracking their knuckles or spitting or doing whatever else they thought tough guys did in these situations.

  Jack, on the other hand, seemed completely unruffled. Though he was standing straight and his words cut like a finely honed blade, his expression was steady and his body was relaxed. He looked like he was in his element.

  "You think that's nerve?" Jack asked with a sardonic smile. "How about this—we take this outside, settle it like men, and the winner gets the girl."

  Heat flashed between my legs and I exhaled a tiny gasp. Jack glanced over at me, his lips curled in a wicked grin that sent a wave of tingles out to the tips of my fingers. I wanted to scream at both of them, especiall
y at Jack for making such a bold, ridiculous statement. I wasn't just some prize to be won. I was a flesh and blood human being with a goddamn mind and will of mine own.

  That being said, I couldn't deny how enticing the prospect of being won, of being claimed, by the hulking stranger whose very appearance screamed danger was. I couldn't deny how my heart raced in my chest, veins jumping from my skin with every beat.

  "Oh, so that's what this is about," Donnie sneered. "You want my girl, huh? She's a pretty fine piece, but she's not worth getting your ass kicked over."

  Jack looked back at Donnie and let out a bitter laugh. "If that's the case, then I'll understand if you don't want to fight. For the record, I'd say she's worth one hell of a beating—not that I’m going to be the one getting beat.”

  Donnie's face turned beet red and he bunched his fists at his side. "I'm going to beat your fucking face in, asshole. Let's go."

  "Donnie!" I raced forward, blocking his view of Jack. "Don't do this."

  "Shut up," he muttered. "This isn't your business."

  "Donnie, please—"

  "I said shut up!"

  "Hey!" Jack approached. "Don't talk to her like that."

  "Hey all of you!" cried Naomi, who was walking by with a tray of food against her hip. "Take it outside! Now!"

  Remarkably, Donnie didn't try to fight Naomi too. I would have been so embarrassed if he did, so I was grateful that he was at least invested enough in his feud with Jack that he didn't notice being called out by one of the bar's waitresses.

  "Stay here," Donnie ordered, pointing to a spot on the ground like he wanted me not to move an inch from it. "I'll be right back."

  I wanted to follow the two men—and their entourage of curious bystanders—outside, but it wasn't Donnie's command that stopped me. I was still at work, and the drink tickets were undoubtedly stacking up at the bar. I watched the door swing closed behind them and ran a hand over my forehead, slicking the sweat back against my crown.