Jacked

by Chance Carter

  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, especially 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.

  Naomi placed a hand on my shoulder. "You okay?"

  "Yeah. Fine." I offered up a weak smile. "Nothing like a bit of small town drama to start the night off right."

  She nodded and walked away to her tables and I made my way back to my spot behind the bar.

  I caught up on drink orders pretty quickly, but only because I'd been doing this so long that my hands practically had a mind of their own. My brain was occupied by thoughts of what was going on outside, unsure which of the two men I was supposed to be more concerned about. Donnie was my boyfriend and the obvious choice, but then again Jack was only fighting him because of how awful Donnie was being to me. Jack was also fighting to "win" me, and I wasn't sure what that entailed but I knew it wasn't the kind of thing I should be hoping for. That didn't mean a part of me wasn't secretly thrilled and did actually hope for Jack to win, just so I could find out what that meant.

  I slid a fresh beer to Neil, and he winked at me. "I hope your boy's got health insurance."

  I blinked. "What?"

  "Donnie," he said gruffly. "I hope he's got health insurance. He's about to get his ass handed to him." Neil shook his head bemusedly. "That boy don't know what hornet's nest he just kicked."

  A stab of worry lanced through me. "What do you mean?"

  "Don't y
ou know who that is?" Neil pressed. "He's a fighter, gets paid for doing bar brawls for people to bet on. I've seen him before and your boyfriend will be lucky if he makes it out without any broken bones."

  My heart dropped into my stomach, nausea rolling over me. Jack seemed like a genuine, kind person, but I didn't know him from Adam. If he decided to smash Donnie's face in to teach him a lesson, it sounded like he could do just that without breaking a sweat. Concern for my boyfriend ultimately compelled me to drop my rag onto the counter and dash toward the back doors. Admittedly, I was also curious to see Jack at work.

  "Where are you going?" Naomi stopped me at the door, arms folded over her chest and a tight expression on her face.

  "I'm going outside," I said.

  She clicked her tongue. "Do not get involved with whatever those idiots are doing out there. You could get hurt and it’s up to them if they want to break their fists on each other’s faces."

  Naomi was always such a mother hen. Though I was touched by her concern, it was up to me to decide whether I wanted to get involved or not, and that's exactly what I told her. She relented and stepped aside, and I crashed through the door, hoping that I wasn't already too late.

  Too late for what, I didn't know.

  Chapter 7

  Jack

  Though my opponent had taken to stomping wherever he walked, I strolled as coolly as a spring breeze. I was in no hurry to break his teeth, nor was I in any hurry to have him pound on my already tender bruises. There wasn't any way in hell this wannabe bad boy was a legitimate threat, and I was happy to take my time and enjoy the ride. It wasn't every day I got to fight for such a valuable prize.

  Once we were outside, I pulled a smoke from my shirt pocket and lit up, leaning against the grimy back wall of the bar and waiting for everyone to assemble in the parking lot. If it were a paid fight, this would usually be the time people started to make bets. Me and my opponent would glare at each other for a couple of minutes first to build the tension and make the crowd sweat. In this case, I just wanted to enjoy my smoke first.

  "You sure you want to do this?" I asked Donnie, who had taken to pacing a few feet ahead of me.

  "You want to back out, big guy?" jeered one of his friends, a short balding guy in a plaid jacket.

  "You're all talk, aren't you? It's just a show so chicks think you're bad ass," another added.

  I chuckled, smoke billowing from my lips. Other than that, I paid no mind to Donnie's friends. I was out here to fight him, and the rest of them may as well have not existed as far as I was concerned. This was between me and this churlish asshole, who was looking more unhinged by the second.

  "What's the matter with you, anyway?" I asked him, waving my smoke in the air for emphasis. "You've got a beautiful girl, real nice too, and you treat her like shit. What's that about?" I took another inhale while he glared at me, his friends shouting at me to shut the fuck up and at him to kick my face in.

  "Is it because she's too good for you?" I continued. "Everybody can see that, you must be able to too. She's way too good for you so you gotta keep her down to feel better about yourself. I bet that's it." I grinned. "Am I close?"

  In my life I had seen a great many angry men. I'd fought a great many angry men. But never, never had I seen someone quite so infuriated as Donnie was just after I insulted him. He didn't lunge at me, which was what I half-expected him to do. I hoped for it too, since an emotional attack is always the easiest to defend against if you could anticipate it was coming. But Donnie didn't lunge, he stood there and bared his teeth at me like a wild animal, face so bright and red you could have fried an egg on it.

  I quickly surmised that Donnie knew he was no match against me when it came to verbal sparring. His vocabulary obviously fell short somewhere after "I'm going to fucking kill you" and he knew it too, which was why he was letting me rag on him like this. I imagine his plan was to beat the ever living shit out of me to make up for it, but that straight up wasn't going to happen.

  I finished my smoke and tossed it on the ground, crunching it against the gravel with my foot. "No matter," I told him. "I'll treat her better than you ever could."

  Donnie had had enough. He shot forward, fists first, aiming a blow at my jaw. I easily sidestepped him and he went stumbling past me, throwing his hands out to catch him as his momentum drove him toward the ground.

  I knew it was cocky, but I couldn't help but laugh. It wasn't really fair of me to challenge someone so drunk and so inexperienced to a fight, but if anyone deserved a good beating, it was this guy. Anyway, I would let up on him before things went too far. I wasn't out to kill or maim anyone—I just wanted to teach him a lesson.

  "You're dead!" he screeched, standing back up and going for me again.

  I let him land a blow on my shoulder, countering with an uppercut into his sternum that knocked the air from his lungs. Pain exploded through my shoulder but I gritted my teeth and forced myself back a step, then swung a punch into his jaw.

  Donnie staggered back. The crowd was a mix of people cheering for me and cheering for him, though his friends easily drowned out the cheers for me with angry boos.

  "That was a dirty hit!" one yelled.

  I rolled my eyes but didn't lose focus. I doubted they would be so scrupulous about the rules if it was me bent over, spitting a stream of blood and spit onto the gravel. Some other people in the crowd chorused in in my defense, and considering I was standing there waiting for Donnie to recover, I found the whole thing fairly ridiculous.

  "Are you done?" I asked him.

  Donnie looked up at me and snarled. "Not even fucking close."

  I had to hand it to him—at least he didn't give up that easy. It was probably more to do with the booze and the crowd than anything else. He might not be feeling my hits tonight but he would sure as hell be feeling them in the morning.

  "Alright then." I squared up with him, focused on his face over the tops of my fists.

  The crowd went wild as we approached each other again. I went in for the first hit, narrowly dodging a shot at my head as I pulled back. Donnie strode forward and let his rage take control. Big mistake.

  The Vikings used to send these crazy motherfuckers called berserkers into battle. They'd get them all drugged up and send them off to do their thing, which was basically just scaring the shit out of the other side while in a fury so great that they felt no pain and tore through their enemies like butter.

  Donnie came at me like a clumsy berserker. It might have been terrifying if it wasn't so funny. He charged me, teeth gnashing, arms flailing, eyes wide and crazed, and I didn't doubt that he would rip me apart given the chance.

  His first mistake, of course, was assuming he would get a chance.

  I slipped aside at the last second and landed a kick on his ass that sent him sprawling. My supporters laughed and hooted with joy.

  Donnie got up faster this time, turning back to me with fire in his eyes.

  The back door squeaked open. I wouldn't have paid it any mind if I didn't recognize the long-limbed brunette running out toward us, an expression of pure horror marring her pretty features.

  I smiled at Melissa, a big, white, blood-free smile. It was more than she'd be getting from her boyfriend. Her eyes widened with shock and I recognized a second too late that I'd taken my eyes off of Donnie for too long.

  The sucker punch cracked against my jaw and flung my head to one side. I threw up a fist reflexively and managed to catch him in the shoulder, sending him back a couple paces while I recovered.

  It was a good punch. Even if he was a shit fighter, the guy could throw a good punch and I'd give him that at least. My split lip opened up again and I wiped it against the back of my hand.

  "Stop now!" Melissa called. "This is enough."

  I laughed and shook my head.

  "Your boyfriend’s determined to make a fool out of himself, sweetheart. Besides, it's in your best interests for me to win."

  "Get inside!" Donnie screamed.r />
  I had lost count of how many times tonight he'd pissed me off just by speaking to her.

  "What? You're afraid of her seeing you lose?" I taunted. "If you’re nice maybe I’ll help you finish with a little dignity."

  Donnie's attention turned straight back to me and he stepped closer, holding his fists up and tracking my movements with his eyes. So, the rage had worn off. He was getting tired now, and in his tiredness he must have realized that he wasn't getting anywhere by attacking me blindly.

  "Get him, Donnie!"

  "You've got this!"

  "Fuck yeah, new guy! Fuck him up!"

  This was probably the most exciting thing to happen in Cannon in a long time and the energy was electric. I fed off it, letting it fill me, letting it push me up straighter, hold my hands higher, make my feet lighter.

  I was a fighter. And this, this was my ring.

  Donnie took the next swing, dodging one I aimed for his head. He nailed me in the ribs and I cried out as agony threatened to overwhelm me. I would be lucky if my cracked rib was still only just cracked.

  Donnie took advantage of my pain and hit me in the chin while I was doubled over. I staggered back a couple paces and slammed a cross punch into his jaw. Then I got him with a headshot on the other side. Spit and blood flew into the air and he fell backward, landing with a meaty thunk against the gravel.

  I clenched and unclenched my fist, letting the pain of that motion distract me from the searing pain in my side. The sounds of the crowd filtered in, either cheering for Donnie being down or urging Donnie to get back up. It took a second for anyone to notice he'd been knocked out cold.

  It was over. Thank fuck. Fighting someone I truly despised was just as draining as it was rewarding, and I needed a good drink and an ice pack or two asap.

  "He's out!" someone called. "Fight's over."

  People started filtering back inside, a few coming over to clap me on the back as they left. I stood immobile, staring at Donnie's prone figure like he might leap back up and attack me again if I looked away for even a second. I wasn't afraid of him but I didn't trust him, and experience had taught me that assholes like him didn't generally take losing well.