He knew that he had to end the fight soon if he didn’t want to be crushed by them all. It had happened to him before. He could hear Evan’s voice behind him, and there was a note of warning and panic in it, though the words were lost in the din and in the wind that whipped around them, tugging and pulling at them.
Jake focused all of his anger and rage into a heated fiery ball at his core and dove at the younger man, knocking his feet out from underneath him and landing squarely on him. Just as he landed a solid fist to Kurt’s face, he felt something sharp and strange graze his ribs. He leapt to his feet and stood back, his hand going to the place where the sting had come from. He had been cut. Jake’s eyes shot to Kurt who was pushing himself to his feet; his mouth bleeding, his eye and the side of his face red. He jerked his chin at Jake. Jake ran his fingers over the shallow gash and saw his own blood coloring his hand red.
“Yeah? I got ya, didn’t I!” he taunted, waving the knife in his hand at Jake. “See? You aren’t gonna win this one. Who’s bad now? Huh? Come on, Jake!” he began to shout, as spit and blood flew from his swollen lips.
Jake shook his head and without so much as a glance to Kurt’s hand, he jumped and turned on the spot, his leg flying through the air like a blade, and his foot hit Kurt’s wrist with tremendous force. The knife flew from the younger man’s fingers, and his eyes widened as his mouth fell open. Jake landed on his feet and his eyes narrowed at the man in front of him. Weapons weren’t allowed; it was against the rules they had set.
That was enough to send Jake right over the edge. Stepping close to Kurt, he swept his foot around Kurt’s ankles and knocked him to the ground flat on his back. Dropping all of his weight on the young man, Jake doubled up his fists and punched Kurt hard in the stomach, all over his face, and all over his head until he was covered in blood, and had stopped moving.
It was then that Jake stood up. Patrick, the older companion of Kurt, rushed to him and tried to wake him from his unconscious state. A police squad car pulled up to the crowd, silent until it reached them, before the cherry lights came on and the sirens deafened every ear. The sudden noise startled the crowd and they all seemed to vanish immediately, running away from the scene, leaving Jake, Evan, Kurt, and Patrick there.
The three of them who were conscious looked at the headlights of the squad car as the rain began to course down in sheets of unrelenting force and the wind drove it at them. Two officers stepped from the vehicle, guns drawn, calling out loudly to the four men on the sidewalk. They were ordered not to move, and to put their hands up high in the air.
Three of them did so. Patrick turned and glared at Jake with eyes of fire. “I’m gonna kill you, man. That’s my brother. That’s my brother!” he shouted angrily. “You’re dead! I’m gonna find you and I’m gonna kill you. This ain’t no threat, man, it’s a promise. What we’re gonna do… it ain’t gonna be no fight like this… money… people… nah man, just you and me, and it’s to the death. You hear me? You’re done!”
Just then one of the officers grabbed him and cuffed him, hauling him to the back of the squad car while calling for backup. The other officer walked slowly up to Jake and Evan, and put his gun back into the holster at his hip.
“Jake… damn it. I don’t know how many times I’ve told you to stop doing this. I have to take you in now. You know why? Because I have a partner with me today. I have someone with me that knows you were here. I can’t let you go this time. Damn it. What in the hell am I going to do with you! Evan, you can come get him as soon as you get bail posted for him. Jake, get your ass over to the car. Get in the back seat. I’m not going to cuff you.” The slightly overweight policeman stood before them. He had a donut built belly and pale skin. His red hair was fading and beginning to show some gray around the temples, and the top of his head was thinning beneath his policeman’s cap.
“Officer Muldoon,” Jake said by way of a greeting, his eyes not quite meeting the other man’s intense gaze, though his voice portrayed the shame that he felt inside. He wished it had been anyone else who had pulled up. Any other cop would have been fine. He had been arrested so many times that he didn’t care about being arrested, but not by officer Muldoon. That was the worst.
He nodded to Evan, who shook his head and took off, and then he settled into the back seat of the car, and Muldoon closed the door behind him and climbed into the front seat. His partner told him he was going to wait for the ambulance to arrive, and he’d be back to the station with the other squad car that was coming for the young man he had arrested. Jake could see Patrick watching him, rage on his face and a vow in his eyes as he gritted his teeth.
Muldoon left the scene and drove to the Brooklyn police station. He shook his head and pulled his cap off, wiping his brow before he set the pristine navy colored hat on the seat beside him.
“Damn it… Jake.” He sighed heavily, looking out of the window as the wipers swept back and forth over it, pushing the rain aside as more rain flooded the glass. “Damn it.” He said it quietly, more to himself.
Jake turned his head away from Muldoon and looked out of the window in the back seat, watching the city go by, knowing what was coming, and dreading it with everything in him. His gut tightened and he felt sick.
“When I made it onto the force, I promised your mother that I’d look out for you, and I swear to Saint Patrick that I’ve done my best to keep you out of trouble all I could. You just… you never make it easy. I know how hard you’ve had it, and I know how hard your mother had it, and I hated seeing you two go through everything that you did. When she passed away I told you that I was going to keep a closer eye on you, and that you’d better straighten up.” He grunted in dissatisfaction.
“Do you know why Jenks gave you that job at the mechanic shop? Do you? Because I asked him to. I called in a personal favor with him, and I told him that you were a good kid, and you would grow up to be a good man if you only had the chance. I told him all you needed was a chance. An opportunity to prove yourself.
What happened? He gave you the job, and you did good, and now you own the shop. You own a business, Jake! You can’t be running around being irresponsible, getting into fights and beating the hell out of people! You’re never going to get revenge on your past! Do you hear me? Are you listening to me?” he demanded, looking in the rearview mirror as he fumed and lectured.
Jake just nodded and made a subtle noise of comprehension in the back seat.
“Answer me!” Muldoon glared at him in frustration.
Jake turned and caught the older man’s eyes in the rearview mirror. “Yes, Sir.” He turned and looked back out of the window again.
Muldoon shook his head and hit his hand on the steering wheel. “I know you can do better than this, Jake. I know you can. You have got to put yourself and your future first and stop acting like a damn kid! You cannot keep getting into street fights! I know how tough you are. You don’t have anyone to prove it to, including yourself! All you’re doing is wrecking your life! Stop! One of these days I’m not going to be able to be there for you, or help you, or hide the little things for you that I do! I’m going to feel like I let you down, and let your mother down, when that day comes! Don’t let that happen! You’re the only one who can stop that from happening. Please… just stop!”
Jake stayed silent and stared out into the storm. It was growing worse. The afternoon had disappeared and the night was closing in somewhere far above the gale that surrounded them. He could feel the cold air seeping in past the glass he faced. His breath made a steamed cloud on the window as rivulets of water rolled down the other side of it.
“Jake… I know you’re really good at martial arts. I said it was a good idea when your mom put you into those classes, and I still think it’s a good idea, but I think you’re using it all wrong. You’re really good, Jake. You keep using what you know to screw up your life, over and over, you just keep going through the same cycle, and if you keep doing that, you’re going to wind up in prison. You will lose you
r business, and you’ll end up behind bars for the rest of your life. That isn’t what you want, and I sure don’t want that for you.
"You’ve got a talent for the martial arts, Jake, and you need to realize it, and you need to try to do something positive with it. Turn your life around. Stop screwing up. Stop getting arrested. Use what you have and make something of yourself. How many chances at life do you think you get? One… Jake, you get one chance. One shot at this, and you are throwing it away like all those other idiots out there on the street.
You know what? I see them all the time. Every day. I bust them left and right, and those jackasses deserve to be jailed and sent up river, but not you, Jake, because you’re different. You got something special, and I can see that, but you can’t. You just don’t trust anyone, least of all yourself, and you’re throwing away something incredible and making it destroy your life and destroy you. I hate watching you do that, and I’ll tell you something, Jake.” He turned to look at Jake fully in the face then, and Jake could feel a steel knot form in his stomach.
“I’m glad your mom never saw you like this. I’m glad she never saw what you’ve done with your life so far. She worked her fingers to the bone for you, and you are throwing it all away; everything she ever did for you. Now, change it. Do something that would make her proud of you, for once… Jake.” Muldoon closed his mouth then and his clear blue eyes stayed on Jake.
Nothing could have hit Jake harder or deeper than what Muldoon had said to him. He wanted to look away from him. He wanted more than anything to turn his head, but he couldn’t. It was as if it were being held by unseen forces. Muldoon finally looked away from him and left the stop sign where he’d paused. They pulled into the station and Muldoon pushed himself out of the car and opened the back door so Jake could get out. They walked into the station silently and Jake didn’t look up from the floor the entire time he was being booked and sent into a jail cell.
Muldoon had been a friend of his mother’s nearly all of her life. They had been in school together, and had been friends because they had grown up in the same neighborhood. He had been around all of Jake’s life, and Jake had been glad for his support and help, especially when he was in trouble and Muldoon had either looked the other way or helped him out of it, depending on the severity of the crime. There had been times when Muldoon couldn’t look away, and he had punished Jake more often and oftentimes more severely than anyone else, though Jake knew that the older man cared for him.
There were not many people in Jake’s life who he looked up to and respected, but Officer Muldoon was definitely one of them. That was the thing that made it hard for Jake to be caught by him. He knew that Muldoon was right, but he also knew that he wasn’t about to stop doing what he was doing. It was his life, and he was hell bent that he was going to live it any way that he wanted to, and no one was going to tell him to do otherwise.
He sat on a simple cot in the jail cell, staring at the wall in front of him, listening to the rain beat against the windows and the building as if it was trying to get in just to get to him. He thought back to the fight he’d had that afternoon. The guy he fought hadn’t known much about fighting at all, and he was irritated that someone so inexperienced had insisted on fighting him. He was going to make a point to tell Evan that they had to double check on the guys who lined up to get a shot at him. He didn’t want to bury the other guy, he just wanted to win the fight and the money, and prove to everyone that he was the badass that his reputation said he was.
The blood had been washed off of him when he was booked at the jail, and his cut had been cleaned and bandaged. He had heard that Kurt was taken to the hospital. He thought of the guy’s brother; Patrick. He knew that Patrick was serious and that he would be facing a fight with him at some point. They looked to be about the same size, though Jake considered that if the older brother had taught the younger brother how to fight, he didn’t have anything to concern himself with, because the younger brother had no idea what he was doing, and he had no business being in a fight circle.
Minutes turned into hours, and Jake sat there, his mind going over the fight, over the past, and not at all into the future. He didn’t ever let himself look at the future, because he didn’t want to be let down or to disappoint himself. He didn’t want to think about what might come or what could happen. He just took life as it came and dealt with it blow by blow. He was certain that looking too far ahead would be more than he could take, and he wasn’t up for it. There was no way to know what was coming, and he wouldn’t let himself even think about it.
It was morning before the guard came and pulled the bars open for him to let him out. He had fallen asleep against the wall beside the cot, and he could feel the soreness from it in every muscle. Jake followed the guard out, signed the paperwork he needed to sign, changed back into his street clothes, picked up his personal effects, and walked out of the station.
The sun was out and the morning was warming up. Evan was sitting on the banister beside the steps that led up into the station. He handed Jake a cup of hot coffee and pulled out a cigarette, lighting it and sucking in the first drag.
Exhaling a cloud of smoke, he glanced at Jake’s torso. “How’s the cut?”
Jake lifted one shoulder a touch, brushing the question off. “It’s bandaged. I’ll live.” He tilted his head and looked curiously at Evan. “Did you get bail posted for me?”
Evan shook his head. “Nope. Wasn’t me. All I know is that Muldoon called me and told me to come get you, so I did.” He took another long drag off of his cigarette. “We did really well on the take, I’m just pissed that Kurt pulled a knife on you. They knew… they knew. No weapons. I warned them.”
Jake wondered who had posted his bail, though he was fairly confident that he knew. He tipped the coffee cup back and felt new life pour into him as he drank it. Exhaling slowly he tipped his head. “Well, now we have Patrick to deal with. I’ve heard of him; I just haven’t seen him before.”
“You can take Patrick,” Evan said without a moment of hesitation.
Jake looked sidelong at him as they walked to Evan’s car. “I can take Patrick in a fight, but the dude wants to kill me. He’s not looking to fight me for some cash, Evan. He wants to end my life. That’s something else.” He took another drink and got in the car, closing the door.
“Any word on Kurt?” he asked, looking over at his best friend.
“Yeah. The docs put him in a medically induced coma so he could heal because he was so banged up.” Evan replied casually. There was no sign of remorse or bitterness on his face; he was the picture of indifference.
Jake sighed. “Well, I guess we’ll just have to see how all of that goes. No weapons. He wouldn’t have gotten it so bad if he’d stuck to the rules.”
Evan turned his head fully and looked at Jake with a droll expression. “Really? When did you ever follow the rules? You expect everyone else to, but you don’t have to?”
Jake shrugged. “Well, in a fight, yeah.”
Minutes later Evan pulled his car up to the curb in front of Jake’s house. It was a small bungalow with faded gray siding and asphalt shingles that had needed replacing for a long while. Two windows looked out of the front of the house like sad old tired eyes, staring blankly at the street.
Evan and Jake stepped from the car and walked over the dead lawn toward the old porch. Jake unlocked the door and they went inside. It was small, but serviceable. There was a beige sofa sitting against one wall and a simple shelving unit with a television in it against the adjacent wall.
There were no pictures or artwork hung in decoration. There was only a lamp on a small table to the side of the sofa, and a coffee table in front of it. A worn upholstered armchair sat to the side of the sofa, and Evan sank down into it. It had become his unofficial spot in Jake’s living room from the day he had helped Jake bring it in.
Jake sat across from him, taking up half of the sofa. Evan looked over at him and cocked an eyebrow. “You got any cars you�
��re working on right now? I don’t have anything going on today. I could help you.”
Jake nodded. “Yeah, I do. I’m working on a car for a guy. You could help me with that. Thanks.” Jake didn’t usually let anyone help him in his auto mechanic shop, but he didn’t mind it when Evan lent him a hand. He paid his best friend in cash and beer, and that was fine with Evan.
They sat and talked a while about things going on in the neighborhood and an hour later, the two of them drove their cars separately to Jake’s shop. He flipped the radio on and oldies music from the sixties and seventies echoed through the ancient dusty concrete garage.
Evan shook his head and laughed as he zipped up his overalls. “Why do you still listen to that?” he asked in wonder.
Jake shrugged and popped the hood on the car that was sitting in the first bay. “It’s what Jenks listened to when I started working here. It’s what he always listened to. I learned everything I know about cars while I listened to this music. It’s… it’s my work music. Puts me in the right frame of mind. Otis Redding… right? Sitting on the Dock of the Bay. It just feels like it’s supposed to feel in here. Like… maybe Jenks is in the bathroom with a crossword puzzle and I’m just out here turning a wrench, waiting for him to come back in and show me something I didn’t know.”
Evan pressed his lips together and nodded in understanding, looking at the ancient radio that sat in a layer of dust on the old metal workbench, where it had sat for countless years. There was thick dust on the radio too, except for the power switch. Nothing else on it had been touched since the day it had been plugged in.
“You’re never going to change it, are you?” Evan said, rather than asked. He looked down at Jake’s legs, sticking out from underneath the car.
Brooklyn's Baddest: A Bad Boy Fighter Romance Page 2
