Jagger: A Caldwell Brothers Novel

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Jagger: A Caldwell Brothers Novel Page 7

by Mj Fields


  Jagger slides his finger across the phone screen, ending the call.

  “Fuck!” he roars in frustration as he rakes his hand through his dark-brown hair. Then he looks at me, and I fight back tears.

  My apartment is the scene of a homicide…what if it’s my father? What if it’s a reaction to all the pills? For all these months, did I do something long term to him? What if I killed him? I just needed relief. I needed safety. I didn’t mean to kill him. Questions scream inside my head, yet no words come out.

  “Sit tight, little one. Don’t let anyone in or out of the room other than room service. I’ve gotta go take care of something.”

  I reach out to stop him as he passes the bed. “Jagger, it was me,” I whisper.

  “What?” he asks with confusion on his face.

  “I did it. I’m the reason my father is dead.” Sure, it’s an assumption it was him, but who else could be dead at the building? When I left, he was snoring, but he sure wasn’t moving.

  “Little one, you shouldn’t listen in on people’s conversations. I sincerely doubt you killed your father. Johnny is just dicking with me. I’ll go down, answer some questions, and find out the truth behind all of this homicide nonsense. I assure you, Tatiana, you have nothing to do with this.” He kisses my forehead softly. “Order something to eat and charge it to the room. I’ll be back later.” Then he leaves without another word or even looking back.

  Emotions run rampant through me. Fear clinches my gut as I think I really killed him somehow, and then unease courses through my veins as I wonder what the future holds for me. Will I be sent back to Russia? Will I go to prison? Will anyone believe me about him beating on me? What happens next? Where will I go?

  Absently, I order some food and sit on the bed while grief and anguish consume me. My one and only lifeline is dead. No, things weren’t good for me, but he was all I had. He did the best he could. At least, that’s what he always said.

  Guilt fills me. I gave him too much antihistamine. He was an old man. Well, I don’t consider fifty old, but maybe he had a heart condition. The box did say not to take with certain medical conditions.

  I look around the room, then stand and go to the dresser, where Jagger has unpacked my bag as if I am staying here for a while. I don’t belong here, though.

  The knock at the door makes me jump. Looking through the peephole, I see it’s room service, so I pull the door back and wait as the man drops the tray on the sitting area coffee table. I scribble on the paper he gives me, making sure my name is a bunch of lines and not legible. Then he leaves, and I go back to the open drawers of the dresser.

  Half of me wants to shove everything back in my bag and go home, not that I have a home anymore. I’m not of age, my only parent is dead—most likely from me—and if I go back, I have to tell them I drugged him.

  Jagger said he would be back. The stronger half of me, the part of me that can’t stop thinking of the tattooed hero, wants to sit tight and wait to find out what Jagger knows.

  What if this Johnny person was just messing with him and my father is alive? If I come home now after being gone for so many days, he will certainly kill me.

  Closing the drawers, I go back over to my food. I open the lid and move the items around on the plate, my appetite gone. Too many questions plague me, and anxiety has my stomach doing somersaults inside.

  I curl into myself on the couch and decide my only option for the time being is to wait. Fear of the unknown is still challenging me, but for now, I have had four days without someone hitting me. I shouldn’t trust so easily. Something in Jagger screams to me he’s good. Something pulls me to him in a way I thought could only be found in books.

  Jagger Caldwell will come back, and I will wait for him. I have to believe there will be good for me. Jagger is that good.

  Chapter 11

  Jagger

  The urge to comfort her sent my lips to her forehead, and that one gesture, one to comfort her, instantly became something more.

  Comfort, protect, claim…

  I hope it comforted her, ’cause it made shit below my waist less than comfortable in 2.2 seconds. Protect comes next, but I couldn’t even look back because I knew that’s not what I would do. Claim was third on my list of things to do, and I can’t do that for three days, but I fully intend to.

  I stop in front of the gym and hop out, using my key to get in. Seeing the light on in Shaw’s office, I walk to it, then push the door open, and Kid and Shaw look up at me.

  “What the hell are you doing here?” Shaw growls at me as I see Kid shove syringes and little vials into a cooler.

  “What the hell is going on?” I ask.

  Kid stands up and nods to Shaw. “You need to do this now.” He looks at me and nods as he walks past and out the door.

  “Sit down, boy,” Shaw grumbles at me, and I do as I am told.

  I sit in the silver metal chair and lean forward. “What’s going on?”

  “First, you tell me what you’re doing here.”

  I look at him, really look. His eyes have a yellow tint to them, and his skin has a gray shade. I have seen that coloring before. I have been so caught up in Tatiana all these months, I haven’t even seen what has been going on right in front of my face. The coughing, the puking, the weight loss, the fatigue. It all slams into me like a sucker punch to the gut. Cancer.

  “You sick?”

  “I said you first,” he grumbles as he grabs a half-burned-out Swisher Sweet and his Zippo. “Spill it, kid,” he says as he lights it up.

  “The girl’s father is dead. I got called down by Johnny to answer some questions. Didn’t want to tell you over the phone, but I need an alibi that doesn’t involve the fight tonight.”

  “You was here, training.” He exhales the sweet-smelling smoke.

  “Good, now your turn.”

  “Dying.” He looks me in the eyes. “Nothing can be done. Wasn’t gonna tell ya until—”

  “You’re what?”

  “Got the cancer, kid.” He sucks in another drag. “Nothing can be done.”

  Fuck! Not this shit again.

  “How ’bout you quit smoking?”

  “How ’bout you shut the hell up and let me go in peace?”

  His eyes are getting heavy, so I know whatever Kid gave him is kicking in.

  “You better go,” he says as he crushes the cigar out in the ashtray. “We’ll talk later.”

  “This is more important,” I mumble.

  “Look, I never had kids, but I got you, and I swore an oath to a friend that I’d look after Kid. You and him is all I got. Both of you need to stick together, help me get through this, but you damn sure better let me go.”

  “You asking or telling?”

  “Telling,” he says, looking at me sternly.

  I feel emotions boiling.

  “I love you, man. You sure nothing can be done? I will do whatever the fuck you want.”

  “Good, now get your ass outta here and go tell Johnny you was with me. Then take care of that girl.”

  “She’s so fucking young.”

  He smirks. “Then you train her up right. Now go.” He stands, holding himself up on his desk. “Kid!”

  The door opens, and Kid walks in. He looks at me, and I look at him, understanding passing in that one look. Then I nod.

  “Love you, man.” I give Shaw a quick one-armed hug, then get the fuck out of the gym before I lose my shit.

  I hop in my car and punch the steering wheel a few times before starting her up.

  As I drive to the cop shop, I think of Momma, of Shaw, and I think of Tatiana. Previously, when shit got deep like this, I ran. I ran off steam, ran away from my problems, ran until I could make some sense of the upside-down shit in the world. I ran until I could visualize me making it right. Then I went to Shaw’s and beat the shit out of a bag until I was exhausted physically. After that, I would sink into something warm until I was surrounded by a feeling that trumped my need for pain, my release.<
br />
  Right now, I need to run, need to hit shit, need to fuck, but first I have to make sure the little one is going to be okay.

  I walk in through the double doors of the cop shop where Johnny Law is pacing behind a desk.

  “Next time, I’ll come get you,” he growls at me.

  I smirk. “You do what you gotta do.”

  After he lets out a frustrated groan and waves me back, I hear the familiar click of the door being unlocked, and I pull it open with a laugh.

  “What’s so funny, Caldwell?” Johnny’s eyes narrow at me.

  “First time I’ve opened this door myself. Usually, I’m wearing steel bracelets.”

  He shakes his head. “You know that’s not true, Jagger.”

  “It was a joke. Since you decided to cross this line, I guess it will probably be true in the future,” I say and I follow him to his office.

  “Have a seat.”

  “Don’t mind if I do. You got any of that shitty coffee?”

  He looks back, his eyes narrowing.

  “What, man? I have a craving.” I lean back in the chair, put my feet up on the desk, and relax back, linking my hands behind my neck.

  “This shit isn’t funny.” He throws down a folder, and it skids to a stop when it hits my feet. “Rand is dead, his daughter is missing, and you, ya smug fuck, have been the one who has been trying like hell to get someone to get the girl out of there. You and she are prime fucking suspects in this homicide.”

  I let out a sigh, pull my feet off his desk, and grab the folder. Looking inside, two feelings combine inside of me: nausea and relief.

  “He looks like he fell down the fucking stairs.”

  “Sure as hell does, and headfirst,” I say, turning the picture sideways. “Must have fucking hurt.”

  Johnny’s fist slams on the desk. “It’s not a goddamn joke!”

  “Never said it was.” I close the folder and push it across the desk so it hits his hand. “Sorry, my bad.”

  “You smug son of a—”

  “Watch it, Johnny Law,” I snarl at him.

  “I could arrest you right fucking now.”

  “I have a rock-solid alibi,” I snap back.

  “Yeah, so I hear. Should I congratulate you on your win, Hitmaker?”

  “Well, that would be nice, but I prefer champ.” I stand up and look at my watch. “I have places to go, people to see, and you obviously have no intention of arresting me, or you would have by now. My word is all I have in this world, and you and I both know that when I say I didn’t kill the fuck, it’s the truth. I wish I had been the one, and that’s the truth, too.”

  “Where is the girl?” he snaps.

  “The girl? No idea what you’re talking about, but I can promise you she didn’t kill him, either. Maybe he just fell down the fucking stairs, man. Drunks do shit like that all the time.”

  “Is that the truth, Caldwell? You really don’t know where she is?”

  I don’t answer.

  “I wanna talk to her,” he says, a little calmer than before. That’s why he hauled me down here. He can’t find Tatiana. Good. I plan to keep it that way.

  “Well, then I suggest you go find her.” I stop. “Oh, shit, you couldn’t do that, either.”

  “Nor could you and your brothers,” he says with an arrogance that pisses me off.

  “How about you stop following us around and try using your super cop abilities?”

  “How about you keep in mind she’s a fucking minor?” he yells.

  “For a couple more days, man, that’s all. Then your jacked-up system can’t touch the girl.”

  “She’ll be an adult then, Caldwell, and then she could end up in State,” he warns.

  “Not if she didn’t do it.”

  “I’m not the enemy here,” he says in a just-as-pissed-off tone.

  “No. But the badge you hide behind and age have made you lazy and heartless.”

  “Tread lightly,” he sneers.

  “You were one hell of a cop once, Johnny, so how about you find him again?” I open the door and look back. “After you put this shit to rest about a homicide. A drunk fell down the stairs, case fucking closed.”

  “Don’t go far, Caldwell. If the autopsy proves otherwise, I’ll need a statement.”

  I don’t say shit, just keep walking out.

  —

  I walk into Caldwell’s, having expected to chat with my brothers, but apparently the after-fight crowd left after two hours of waiting for me. I feel kind of bad knowing that would have brought in a whole lot of revenue for Hendrix, Livi, and Sally. After apologizing to Sally and her assuring me it was still a good night, I throw a fifty on the bar and walk out.

  “Where the fuck is the mouse?” I hear a familiar voice growl.

  I spin around and grab his shirt collar. “None of your fucking business!” I slam Cobra against the brick wall.

  “She is my fucking friend,” he huffs as he pushes me back. “So, yeah, it is my fucking business!”

  I step back in shock. “Her friend? Her fucking friend who lied to her about me? A man who kept her from me, knowing damn well she—”

  “You don’t deserve a chick like that!”

  “And you do?” I laugh.

  “You fucked my girl. Missy,” he growls as his eyes narrow.

  Mine narrow right back. “Your girl fucked me after she’d had enough of you knocking her around!” Obviously, the motherfucker can’t get over the past. I haven’t touched her in months.

  “You took her from me!”

  “No man will ever take her from you. She’s so fucked up because of you!” I push him and expect it back, want it back. Instead he shoves his hands in his pockets and stands there like the coward he truly is.

  He doesn’t look me in the eye when he says, “That little mouse is my friend.”

  “She’s nothing to you. You understand me? Nothing!”

  He glares up at me, veins bulging in his forehead. I want him to strike. I want him to so I can unload the hate I have inside for men like him, for a man who thinks it’s okay to put his fucking hands on a woman.

  “She deserves better than you.”

  I laugh out of anger. “And better than me is you?”

  “You and I aren’t much different, Caldwell,” he snaps.

  “Right, the street fighter who tries to make all the people think the silver-spoon-toting rich kid grew up like we did. You’re a fucking joke; that’s what you are.”

  His eyes light up red as he looks at me. “You tell her I would do whatever the fuck I had to in order to keep her safe, and I will do so even after you’ve had your way with her. I’ll pick up her pieces, and I will—”

  “You’ll lose your fucking teeth if you even think about going near her, maybe even your life!”

  “Pft. You ain’t got that in ya any more than you have the ability to take care of a girl like her. When you come down off your hero’s high, she’ll be nothing to you, but me, I am a true hero now. Like it or not, Caldwell, I’m more than willing and able to take her on.”

  I lunge forward, ready to put him down, when I see red lights flashing and a siren squawks once. “Break it up and get home. Both of you!”

  I look behind me to see Johnny in a squad car. The fucker is following me. Shit!

  I step back. “Consider this your lucky fucking day!” Cobra stomps off, avoiding Johnny’s stare.

  “Walking that line, Johnny,” I say, meeting his gaze before he turns and gets back in his car. Well, I know he’s on my tail, so I can’t go back to Tatiana now.

  I get in my car and head to my brother’s house. I walk up the stairs to Hendrix and Livi’s place, hearing them laughing as I walk in the door.

  “It’s gonna be a boy!” She giggles louder.

  “I hope to hell it’s a girl, one who looks just like you and acts just as crazy as her momma,” Hendrix says.

  “Oh, oh, Hendrix,” she moans.

  “Um, you two decent?” I ask before r
ounding the corner.

  “You fucking kidding me?” Hendrix growls, and I hear the leather of the couch move.

  Livi giggles. “Yes, come in.”

  I give them a minute before I walk into the living room, where I’m met by Hendrix’s glaring eyes.

  “Did I interrupt?”

  “You fucking think?” Hendrix looks at me like I’m a fucking idiot.

  “Of course not. Sit down,” Livi says as she elbows Hendrix.

  “I need your help,” I say as I sit.

  Hendrix nods once, and Livi smiles. I know the fucker told her.

  “We’re family, so the answer is already yes.”

  Chapter 12

  Tatiana

  What is that noise? Something is wailing about a champion of the world and fighting to the end. I look around to find the noise is coming from the phone Jagger gave me. “We Are the Champions.” He is the champion. I smile to myself as the music continues to assault my ears.

  Staring at the screen, I slide to answer per Jagger’s instructions. Lifting it to my ear, I pause.

  “Tatiana?” he questions, and the deep timbre of his voice saying my name gives me chills.

  “Yes,” I manage to say slightly above a whisper.

  “Something came up, and I can’t come back to you. The hotel is safe, and my sister-in-law, Livi, will be there in the morning to bring you some clothes.”

  “Is everything okay? Are you in jail?” I ask as panic fills me. There is no need for anyone to go to jail for my crimes. I should turn myself in.

  He laughs. “No, I’m not in jail. They don’t allow personal cellphones in lockup.”

  “Oh.”

  “Everything is okay, but we have both had a long damn night, and it’s now working into the early hours of the morning. Let’s get some rest, and I’ll see you as soon as I can. Until then, Livi will be by to check on you.”

  Not sure what else I can say or do, I simply reply, “Okay.”

  There is a long silence between us.

 

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