Fearless

by Priscilla West

  A hand reached around my waist, and I jumped. Jax pressed himself against me, his breath hot in my ear.

  "Got you," he said, kissing the back of my neck.

  I laughed and pointed to the view. "Come on, I call truce. Look."

  Jax let go of me with a reluctant sigh, then followed my gaze. A smile lit up his face.

  San Francisco Bay stretched before us in a late afternoon glow. Sailboats dotted the water. Trees and bushes obscured the view somewhat, but it was still breathtaking.

  I shaded my eyes. "Is that Alcatraz?" I asked, pointing at a distant island.

  Jax looked for a moment, then nodded.

  I eyed the distance from the island to shore. "I guess it worked as a prison for a reason. No one could escape from there, could they?"

  He shrugged. "That's what the officials say."

  Tilting my head, I looked up at him. "Is it up for debate?"

  Leaning against the railing, Jax stared out at the island. "Rumor has it three men escaped in the sixties." He whipped his head around, giving me an amused look. "Haven't you ever seen Escape From Alcatraz? Clint Eastwood?"

  I folded my arms across my chest. Old movies weren't really my forte—until I'd met Jax, that is. "No, Mr. Movie Buff, I haven't. But let me guess what it was about. An escape."

  Dismissing my sarcasm with a quick smile, Jax nodded. "It's based on real events. These guys dug through the walls, left behind paper mache dummies to fool the guards, and took off across the bay on a raft made out of raincoats."

  I gazed back over the wide expanse of water that separated the island from the mainland, and shivered. That looked like a far way to go on just some raincoats stitched together. "No wonder they made a movie about it. And they survived?"

  A slow grin appeared on Jax's face. "No one found their bodies, but three men were spotted in a boat on the water that night, then later stealing a truck."

  "Maybe they did escape then," I murmured. "It's weird though, those guys were criminals who probably deserved to be locked up, but somehow you just have to root for them anyway. Even if it feels wrong."

  "It's the underdog principle," Jax said, drawing his brows together. "The more impossible the odds, the more you want to beat them. And if anyone else tries, you root for them too."

  "Even if they've done bad things?"

  He nodded, seeming sure of himself. "Everyone deserves a second chance."

  I stayed quiet, looking at the island. Even your dad? He was the one who'd almost broken Jax. But not quite. Jax was a fighter—he'd survived, despite the odds.

  Jax interrupted my thoughts. "So, you're my favorite lockpicker. Think could you break out?"

  I laughed, glad for a reason to forget my dark thoughts. "Hah. I can pick a lock, but this place was built for people who knew more than me about escape plans. If I were stuck in there, I'd probably just rot."

  He put his arm around my shoulders and kissed the top of my head. "If you couldn't get out, I'd break you out."

  "It's reassuring to know my boyfriend will help me plan a jailbreak," I said with a wry smile. Reaching for Jax's waist, I pulled him closer. "Maybe—"

  A sharp wolf whistle carried through the air aimed at us, and I stopped, surprised. Who did that?

  I looked around. We were alone on the landing, and no one climbed the stairs behind us. Jax stared at the steps leading upwards, frowning, but the people walking up them had their backs to us, and were too far away besides.

  Jax turned back to me, his brows drawn with annoyance . "That's not —"

  The whistle came again, but this time it was louder. And from the direction of one of the small houses that clung to the hillside.

  Jax followed my gaze and scowled. "What, is it some asshole peeping Tom?"

  The whistle sounded again, but this time my eyes connected it to a flutter of movement in a tree next to the house.

  Seated on a branch above our heads was a green bird with a tan curved beak and a blotch of red covering its head.

  "A parrot?" I cried.

  It squawked in reply, then made another human sounding whistle.

  I clutched Jax's arm. "Do you see that? What's it doing out here?"

  Jax narrowed his eyes at it. "Someone's taught it to be rude. Shouldn't be whistling at my girl like that."

  "Do you think it's lost?" I asked, moving closer to the tree to get a better look at the bird. It cocked its head calmly and regarded me with intelligent eyes. Did it belong to the owner of the house?

  "It's too laid back to be lost," Jax observed, a look of understanding dawning over his face.

  I shook my head, not buying his take on the situation. "If it's a pet then we should rescue it and bring it to its owner. Maybe the bird doesn't feel lost, but he might be just the same."

  I gauged where the bird sat perched on a branch above my head. He didn't look too high up—maybe I could climb up and get him? Or maybe he'd just come to me. "Here birdie," I coaxed, holding out my hand.

  Another squawk sounded on my left, and I whipped my head around. On a branch higher up, another parrot was perched.

  I shook my head, amazed at what I saw. One was someone's pet gone missing. Two—did that mean they got loose from a pet shop?

  I was startled by the sound of Jax's laughter.

  "What's so funny?" I demanded.

  "You." He held his side as he laughed.

  "I don't know what's funny about helping lost pets."

  Jax stopped laughing and wiped his forehead. "So you really haven't heard of these parrots before? It took me a minute, but I figured it out."

  I folded my arms impatiently. "I don't know, was it in the paper that someone lost their bird?"

  He exhaled and looked at me with amusement."You've really got to start watching more Netflix. There was a documentary I watched last year on these wild parrots. San Francisco's got a flock of them that were probably released by their owners, since they were caught wild in South America and didn't turn out to be good pets."

  My mouth fell open. I couldn't stand selfish people who bought pets and then dumped them to starve or freeze to death, just because having an animal took too much effort.

  "That's awful," I cried, "How could anyone do that?"

  Jax shrugged. "These are wild birds, Riley, not puppies. They're actually doing better out here."

  I looked up at the parrot perched above my head. It cheerfully began cleaning the feathers on its chest. Okay, it did look pretty content. My outrage faded and was replaced with awe.

  "So they're a tough bunch then," I said.

  "They know how to survive," he replied dryly, and I glanced up at him, surprised at how he'd unintentionally echoed my earlier thoughts.

  "Come on," he continued with a grin, "Let's go. I've still got to win my bet."

  As we started up the next flight of stairs, I took one more glance at the parrots. Wild exotic birds weren't exactly what I expected to see out here, but along with Jax's surprising turnaround, so far nothing about this day had turned out the way I thought it would.

  The sun began to fade as we climbed. The short rest on the landing had done me good, and I gleefully matched Jax's pace. We'll see who's going to carry who up the last few flights.

  But keeping up with him had a price. My thighs burned and I had a stitch in my side when I reached the last flight. One more. Thank fuck.

  With Jax in the lead, I climbed the last few steps, my face flushed and sweat making my shirt stick to my back. At this rate, maybe I'd skip dinner if I won, and just go for a shower.

  Then I reached the top. I'd thought climbing the stairs was enough to take my breath away. But that was nothing compared to how I felt when I turned back to look at the new view.

  Higher than we were before, now the entire city stretched before us. The Golden Gate Bridge loomed in the distance, silhouetted in the setting sun. Bright reds and yellows tinted the sky, and the sunset colors reflected off the water of the bay.

  "It's beautiful," I gasped,
holding my aching side.

  "It's worth the hike, isn't it?" Jax replied, smiling as he gazed into the distance.

  I nodded, unable to find any other words for it. My body tingled, both from the exercise and a sense of awe. The scene had so much natural beauty, but the city sprawling far below somehow made it even more breathtaking.

  "You know what this reminds me of?" I asked.

  "What?"

  "The first time I saw Manhattan from the top of the Empire State Building when I was a kid. I remember feeling so . . . in love with New York the minute I saw it. From then on I always knew I wanted to live in the city."

  I gazed at the view, sensing Jax as he came up beside me. I spun around and took his hand. "Hey, you know what we should check out? There's a park I like to watch the sunset from in Manhattan. South Cove. It's actually really peaceful." I laughed. "It's flat though, not much of a hike. I can leave the clown shoes at home."

  An emotion I couldn't read flashed across his face, then he smiled and pointed to something out over the bay. "See that down there? That's Fisherman's Wharf."

  My face flushed at how neatly he avoided the real subject—one that I hadn't meant to bring up. He doesn't want to talk about New York. And why would he? With all his recent worries, making plans about our future had to be the last thing on his mind.

  As far as our relationship was concerned, we were still taking it one day at a time. Getting ahead of myself like that—that was something I should avoid if I wanted to keep my peace of mind. Wasn't this date enough? It was a chance for us to act in a way that I hadn't been sure we could—like a normal couple.

  Jax squeezed my hand, interrupting my reverie. "Hey, you forgot something."

  I glanced up at him, hoping that he would think my flushed face came from our climb. "What?"

  A grin lit up his face. "You owe me dinner."

  My eyes widened. That sneak. I let go of his hand and took a step back. "Wait a minute, where do you get that?" I pointed to the wifebeater that clung to his chest. "You're sweating buckets just like I am."

  "Yeah, but I wasn't wheezing as much as you either. I thought you'd need a respirator by the time we got up here."

  I smiled. "And who was that huffing and puffing behind me?" I held out my hand. "I call it a draw. Let's go dutch."

  Jax laughed and shook my hand. "Maybe you should have gone into law instead of accounting."

  I stepped closer, and he put a hand on my waist, pulling me towards him. His lips settled onto mine, softly probing, and a warmth rippled through my body. I brought my hand up, tugging at his hair, and his kiss became more fierce. Almost possessive, like he couldn't get enough of me.

  I can't get enough of him either. Ever.

  As he kissed me, suddenly it didn't matter that we weren't talking about the future yet. We had this day.

  And it was perfect.

  Chapter Nine

  NIGHTFALL

  After our visit to Telegraph Hill, Jax and I grabbed bacon-wrapped hot dogs from a street vendor for dinner before we met up with the band again—and even though he tried to back out on our deal and pay for the whole thing himself, I stuck to my guns. We went dutch.

  Even though I would have loved to stay in San Francisco another night, we had to hit the road, despite the late hour. Reed wanted us back in LA for another promo at one o'clock tomorrow, and Kev volunteered to drive us through the night so that we could get some extra sleep on the bus before that happened.

  It was 2:30 when we pulled up to our new digs—Reed's house in Malibu. Bernie had parked the bus there in the driveway for us, and we all stumbled onto it and up to bed, exhausted. Before I fell asleep, I wondered what the inside of Reed's house looked like—if it would be at all as flashy as the man.

  Then I drifted off, happy to be back in the Fortress of Solitude, snuggling up next to Jax in our bed.

  Thud!

  My eyes shot open. The room was dark.

  A groan came from my left. What was that?

  Whack!

  I rolled over, fumbling for the lamp a moment before I could switch it on.

  Jax stood by the closet. His eyes were closed, and he swayed on his feet.

  "Jax, what are you doing up?" I asked groggily.

  He didn't answer me, or even move his head like he'd heard me. I blinked and peered at him. His face was pale, and his eyes were screwed shut.

  A creepy sensation filled my stomach. Was he even awake?

  "Baby," I said, my voice quavering a little. "What's going on?"

  His swaying increased, and he shook his head back and forth violently. "No," he said in a strange, high voice. "No, stop."

  The hair on the back of my arms pricked up and I shuddered. He sounded so eerie.

  I sat up in bed, staring at him as he swayed back and forth like he was in a trance. Was this what sleepwalking looked like?

  "Stop!" Jax cried, again in that weird voice, then threw a lightning fast fist at the wall that connected with a dull thud.

  My eyes widened with shock. His stayed firmly closed.

  This was no regular bad dream—it was a full-on, panic-inducing nightmare. And it was gripping Jax hard. He was hurting himself and he didn't even know it.

  A low, keening noise emerged from Jax's throat. Head down, he pressed his scraped, swollen fingers against the wall, the corded veins in his arms popping with the strain.

  My heart thudded in my chest. I had to wake him up right away. What if he broke his hand, punching the wall?

  Cautiously I crept down to the edge of the bed until I was behind Jax and to his left. I leaned forward and reached out my hand tentatively, hoping to dart in and give him a nudge in his side.

  But Jax staggered back, swinging his arms like he was fighting off an invisible assailant. One fist swung in a jagged arc, coming close to my head.

  I ducked. His fast moving fist sent a rush of air just inches past my face.

  Holy shit!

  I froze as Jax regained his balance and threw himself back at the wall. His body twisted in torment, and his shoulders hunched as if he was trying to hide from unseen blows.

  His eerie, childlike voice filled the room again. "Daddy," he panted, "I'll be good, I promise, just stop hurting me."

  His pleading tore at my heart. I moved to reach for him but stopped, my pulse racing. If I got closer, he might hit me by accident. "Jax, wake up!" I shouted.

  "No, stop!" Jax moaned, completely oblivious. With a violent and sickening thrust he banged his head into the wall.

  I flung myself to my feet and wrenched his shoulders, pulling him back.

  Groaning, he tore himself away from me, but then tripped and collapsed in a heap of heaving limbs on the floor.

  "Please don't," he moaned, his voice still coming from the depths of his nightmare.

  My heart felt like it was going to break in two as I kneeled down on the floor beside him. Jax was being tormented by his old, implacable enemy: his dad. That bastard.

  I gripped his shoulders and shook him so that his head rolled from side to side. "Wake up!" I cried. His eyes stayed closed. I placed my hand on the back of his neck and stroked his sweat soaked skin. "C'mon, wake up," I pleaded into his ear.

  All of a sudden his eyes snapped open. They were wild and staring. His chest heaved up and down, but he was awake.

  "Just breathe, baby," I murmured with relief as I ran my hand through his tangled hair. My fingers searched for any cuts, but he was fine, thank god.

  Jax closed his eyes again for a moment. When he opened them again, the scary distant look had faded.

  He stared at me. "What . . . why am I down here?"

  I caressed his cheek softly with a trembling hand. "You were having a nightmare. You got up, started hitting the wall. You were hurting yourself."

  Jax's jaw clenched and his nostrils flared as he looked at me with wide, anguished eyes. I winced at seeing so much hurt in them, but then I shook myself. He needed me to be strong.

  "C'mon, let
's get you up." I took a wide stance and grabbed his hands, bracing myself to haul him to his feet. When he was standing, I gently pushed on his shoulders so that he sat on the edge of the bed.

  Tremors ran through his body. Jax held up a shaking hand and stared at his scraped knuckles. His eyes widened, and his face blanched. "Did I hurt you?" he cried.

  His desperate expression made me quickly drop down next to him on the bed. I rubbed his thigh. "No baby, it's alright. I'm fine."

  Jax hunched over and rested his head in his hands. His squeezed his eyes shut tight. "Thank god," he whispered.

  I shivered a little, remembering my close call with his fist, and draped my arm around his shoulders. It all felt so unreal. I'd thought he was getting better, but now I knew how wrong I was. It wasn't enough that Darrel had hurt Jax day in and day out in waking life, now he was possessing Jax's dreams. Making him lash out in pain. I closed my eyes as a shudder jerked through my body. I couldn't imagine how deep that pain must go.

  A soft knock on the door made me jump.

  I took a deep breath and squeezed Jax's shoulder. He didn't look up as I stood and opened the door a crack.

  Kev was standing there in his boxer shorts. One piece of his blonde hair stuck straight up. His eyes were sleepy.

  "What was that noise?" he asked in a drowsy voice.

  I gripped the door knob tightly to control my trembling fingers and opened the door a little wider, but not enough for Kev to see into the room. I knew Jax would want privacy.

  I forced my voice to sound calm. "Jax had a nightmare, but it's okay now."

  His eyes flickered with concern. "It sounded pretty bad."

  "I know," I replied with a weak shrug. "He gets them sometimes. Sorry it was loud."

  "Oh, no worries. I just wanted to see if everything was okay." Kev's eyes grew heavy again.

  If I kept him standing here, he'd pass out on his feet. "Thanks, I appreciate it. Goodnight."

  "Mmhmm. Night."

  Kev turned to go, and I sighed as I shut our door, relieved that Jax and I were alone again.

  He still sat with his head in his hands, but now his broad fingers were pressed hard against his closed eyes. It looked like he wanted to escape from the terrible visions that were forcing themselves on him. The sound of his shallow and strenuous breathing filled the room, as if he found the close air to be suffocating.