by Lane Hart
JAX
A Cocky Cage Fighter Christmas Story
By Lane Hart
COPYRIGHT
This book is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogue were created from the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual people or events is coincidental.
The author acknowledges the copyrighted and trademarked status of various products within this work of fiction.
© 2017 Editor's Choice Publishing
All Rights Reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
For permission requests, write to the publisher, addressed “Attention: Permissions Coordinator” at the address below.
Editor’s Choice Publishing
P.O. Box 10024
Greensboro, NC 27404
Edited by Angela Snyder
Cover by Vocaldesign
WARNING: THIS BOOK IS INTENDED FOR MATURE AUDIENCES 18+ ONLY. THE STORY CONTAINS ADULT LANGUAGE AND EXPLICIT SEX SCENES.
Note to Readers
I’m so excited to let you finally catch up with Jax and Page! This story takes place a few years after the end of Jax’s book and you should definitely read it first before continuing on in this novella.
You can download and read Jax for free on Amazon: myBook.to/Jax
If you enjoy this story please leave a review on Amazon and let me know if there’s another fighter you would like to catch up with in the future!
Chapter One
Jackson “Jax” Malone
Plowing my fist into this fucker's smug face feels amazing.
And just like all but one of the opponents I used to fight in the cage, the chump is out like a light before his body even hits the hotel’s floor. Instead of cheers, the crowd around us dressed in their formal wear gasps, and a few overdramatic women even scream.
“Jax! Oh, my God. Jax, what have you done?” Page exclaims when she comes running over in her long, red gown and heels to investigate the cause of the commotion. She’s not running to me but to check on the sleeping asshole. My wife glares at me one final time before she kneels on the floor beside a snoozing Preston McNair. He’s some up-and-coming major league baseball player she represents, but I wouldn’t have cared if he was the President of the United States after the shit he said. He deserved to get knocked the fuck out, and God, it felt good to be the one who put him to sleep.
I glance down at my right hand as I flex it. My knuckles are split open and bleeding, but again it was worth it. And damn if I haven’t missed this feeling, executing my dominance over an asshole who thinks he’s better than me.
After Page gives him a few shakes to his shoulders, the dickhead in a tux comes to, blinking his eyes open. Hopefully he’ll remember this shit next time before he opens his big mouth.
With all the freaked out looks I’m getting from everyone, I decide it’s probably time for me to call it a night and head on home.
When I see Page’s brother Logan pushing his way through the gawking crowd, I go over to him.
“Can you give Page a ride home if she drinks anything?”
“Yeah…yeah, sure. Everything okay?” Logan asks, eyeing the scene over my shoulder.
“Peachy fucking keen,” I mutter before storming out of the ballroom and shoving my way through the hotel’s open front door.
As I step into the cool night air in my tight, uncomfortable tux, I pull out my cell phone and punch a few buttons to bring up the Uber app and order a ride. I only had a few beers tonight, but I know better than to chance driving with snow and ice still on the roads from this week’s storm.
“Jax!”
I instantly recognize my wife’s voice and her tone. She’s pissed, of course, and my ass is about to get reamed the fuck out.
“Jax, what is wrong with you?” Page asks when she steps in front of me on the sidewalk. Her arms are crossed over her chest probably out of a combination of anger and the chilly air hitting her bare arms. Hating to see her uncomfortable, I take off my tux jacket and offer it to her. She shakes her head in refusal, causing the wind to pick up and scatter her long blonde hair in a million different directions. She’s so damn beautiful, especially when she’s angry with her ivory cheeks flushed and lips pursed. Fuck, how long has it been since she let me touch her? Three weeks? Maybe four?
“Seriously, Jax, I want an explanation!” Page says through clenched teeth. “You knew Preston was one of my new clients! Having my husband knock out the guys I represent isn’t exactly good for business!”
“I know, princess, but he was running his mouth –” I start to explain.
“Who cares? Just because someone says something you don’t like doesn’t mean you get to punch them!” Page exclaims. “For the first time in my life I’ve finally found something that I’m good at and that people respect me for. It may not seem like much to you, but this contract business is important to me!”
“I know,” I repeat, because I get all that. When the two of us first met, Page wasn’t earning the respect she deserved from her father or brother in their family law firm. But before our son Xavier was born, Page started helping athletes by reviewing sports contract. Her client list started out with a few MMA guys I knew, but has grown to include football, basketball, hockey and baseball players like the asshole I just took down. They’re all young, up-and-coming hotshots who think they’re the shit. And while I may trust my wife, I don’t trust any one of them. I’m happy that she’s successful; I just miss having that success for myself…
“If you know, then why would you do that?” Page asks, pointing back toward the ballroom in the hotel where she was hosting her first ever Christmas networking party.
Slipping my arms back into my tux jacket she turned down out of spite, I simply shrug in response. There’s no way for me to explain to her the inner struggle with my doubts and the insecurities I’ve had ever since I retired from cage fighting over a year ago. Or how that asshole was able to push my buttons with just a few words.
“The way you’ve been so…so angry lately, it makes me think that…that you’re mad at me,” she says, her voice wavering with emotion and making me feel guilty as fuck when it should be the other way around.
“You think I’m mad at you?” I huff in disbelief. “You’re the one who’s been pushing me away for weeks whenever I try to touch you! We may sleep in the same bed every night, but you might as well be a million miles away from me!”
Page scoffs and crosses her arms over her chest again. “Did you ever think of maybe asking me what’s wrong instead of sulking around the house day and night, throwing stuff and cursing? Xavier can hear you, you know, even when he’s not in the same room! Last week he asked me if you were the angry giant from Jack and the Bean Stalk!”
I wince internally from hearing that my son thinks of me that way, but it doesn’t alleviate my anger in the least.
“Fine! You want me to ask, I’ll ask!” I yell back at her, finally having the balls to get off my chest what I’ve been chewing over for weeks. “Are you fucking cheating on me?”
When Page lowers her eyes and hangs her head, I prepare myself for the bomb she’s about to drop before she quietly says, “Sometimes…sometimes I worry that we rushed into marriage. That if I hadn’t gotten pregnant, things would’ve turned out differently…”
“I fucking knew it!” I growl. “Was it with that asshole?” I ask, pointing back toward the hotel. “It was, wasn’t it?” My fists clench by my side, wishing I would’ve nailed him a few more times.
&
nbsp; “You don’t know anything!” Page replies, tears now streaming down her reddened cheeks. “You think I’m a million miles away, well that’s because of this! For months, I’ve kept my distance from you because I’ve been terrified that you’ll lash out at me or Xavier. And I was right. What’s next? Are you going to hit me or him if we say something you don’t like?”
“How can you even fucking ask me that?” I reply, appalled that she thinks I could ever lay a hand on her or our son.
“You’re a ticking time bomb, Jax. Tonight, you just proved that!” she shouts at me. “It feels like…like I don’t know who you are anymore, and that scares me.”
“Are you seriously telling me that you’re afraid to be around me?” I ask incredulously with my hands propped on my hips
Her only response is a nod while she continues to avoid my eyes.
Holy. Shit.
My own wife is scared of me.
“I’ve said it before, but this time I mean it, Jax. I…I don’t want you around me or our son until you’re done being a jerk.”
“Fuck that! If you wanted me out of the house, all you had to do was ask,” I yell back at her.
“That’s not –” she starts to say, but thankfully my Uber ride pulls up.
“I’ll go get my shit and be gone before you come home tonight,” I say before I go over to the black van and yank open the sliding door to climb inside.
On the way back to our house, I try to figure out exactly when everything in my once perfect life went to hell.
Chapter Two
Page Malone
Back inside the hotel, I run straight for the restroom to try and mop up some of the makeup running down my face.
Damn it, Jax.
Of all the times for him to lose his temper, this was the absolute worst!
Now, I have to go back into a party with hundreds of clients and their dates, along with some who I thought might be potential clients, to smooth things over when I’m a complete scrambled egg of a mess on the inside.
I can’t believe Jax is moving out. That’s not what I wanted. All I'd hoped for was to be honest with him about how terrifying his anger can be for me and Xavier so that he’ll get some sort of help and try to calm down.
I’m not exactly sure why I’m surprised by his temper or attitude. He’s had both since the day we met. Did I actually think he would change for me? For our four-year-old son? Yeah, stupidly I think I did expect that simmering rage of his to magically disappear.
Jax hasn’t been the same since he lost his championship title to Jude and retired from fighting.
A few months ago, we talked, and he agreed that he was okay with me renting out office space at a local law office rather than continuing to meet clients at our house. Jax offered to take care of Xavier all day, other than the few hours a day while he was at preschool. That’s when Jax said he would fit in his workout time at the gym.
Is that the problem? He doesn’t like me working while he stays home? If so, all he had to do was talk to me so we could figure out a solution like me working half days or something. Jeez.
Grabbing some tissues from the box on the counter, I look in the mirror over the sink to blot away the mascara running under each of my sad, blue eyes. Even though my face is fire-engine red, I need to pull it together, put my personal life on hold and try to salvage the rest of the night for my career.
If I lose a few clients, then it won’t be worth paying rent for office space.
Is that why Jax caused a scene? To sabotage my business?
Tossing my tissues in the trashcan next to the door, I take a deep breath and then step out into the hotel lobby, forcing my heels to carry me back into the ballroom where the party is still going.
I plaster a fake smile on my face as I weave through the tables, heading straight for Preston to check on him.
He’s sitting down at a seat in the back corner, holding a beer bottle up to his jaw.
“Hey, Preston. Are you okay? I’m so, so sorry about that,” I tell him sincerely when I sit down in the seat next to him.
“Your husband is a dangerous lunatic,” he mutters.
“What exactly happened?” I ask. “Jax isn’t usually that…volatile without a reason.”
“No idea,” he answers. “I walked up to say hello and told him I appreciated how hard you’ve been working on my contract renewal. Then he just sucker punched me for no reason!”
“I’m sorry,” I apologize again.
“The hotel manager came over and asked me if I wanted him to call the police.”
“No! Please don’t do that,” I beg, knowing with Jax’s claustrophobia that’s the last thing he needs is to be thrown in jail yet again. “I know you have every right; I just hope you’ll accept my sincere apology and not press charges.”
“I told him no,” Preston says, lowering the beer bottle from his face. “You’re a great girl, Page, and I wouldn’t do anything to hurt you or your family.”
“Thank you!” I exhale in relief.
“Although, I’m not sure I can say the same for your husband…”
“Jax would never hurt me,” I reply, even if there’s a tiny, growing shred of doubt in the back of my mind.
Chapter Three
Jax
After pulling my boxer briefs from the drawer, I slam it shut a little too loudly because my blood is still heated from earlier.
I can’t fucking believe that I’m packing my shit into a duffle bag and about to leave my house, my wife, my son, all because some asshole was running his mouth.
Stomping over to the closet, I jerk the door open and start tugging shirts off the racks until I hear a softly muttered, “Daddy?” behind me, causing my entire back to tense.
Turning around, I try to replace my current scowl with a smile or at least a more neutral expression.
“Hey, buddy,” I say, reaching out to ruffle his jet-black hair that he got from me. “What are you doing up so late?”
Crissy, our high school aged neighbor, stayed home with Xavier tonight. When I came home, she told me she'd tucked him in an hour ago.
“I heard you…” he says.
“Sorry,” I tell him. “I’ll try to be quieter. Why don’t you ask Crissy for a glass of warm milk to help you sleep and then climb in bed? I’ll be right there to tuck you back in…” Before I leave because Mommy kicked me out, I think to myself.
“Okay,” he agrees, turning around and shuffling in his dinosaur footie pajamas out of the room.
The thought of not being here to read Xavier a bedtime story or put him to bed every night causes an invisible hand to squeeze my throat. I took for granted seeing my son’s face first thing in the morning and giving him goodnight kisses…
How the fuck am I gonna explain to him why I won’t be here when he wakes up tomorrow?
Grabbing up an armful of clothes, I haul them over and flop down on the foot of the bed to try and calm down. I’ve never been able to wrestle my rage back down once it’s been set free, like earlier tonight. In fact, I’m pretty sure it’s always there, right under the surface, bubbling up and ready to explode on a dime. That’s why I was such a good fighter.
Now that inherent rage just means I’m a shitty husband and father.
I will figure all this out. I have to, because Page and Xavier are my world. Without them…I don’t know what I would do. Imagining living my life with only weekend visitation is impossible.
It may take a few days, but I’m sure Page will cool off and forgive me. Eventually.
Until then, I’ll just have to try and be patient.
Too bad they don’t sell that shit at the store, because I’m pretty sure I’ve already used up all the patience I was given in this lifetime.
Chapter Four
Page
The house is quiet when I walk through the front door a little after midnight. It took longer than I expected to clear out the guests. Once you get a few free drinks in people and put on some music, they camp out
and stay awhile.
For hours, I’ve had to walk around with a fake smile plastered on my face, pretending everything was fine, that my maniac of a husband didn’t knock out my brand new, highly paid client and wasn’t at home packing his things.
I check the bedroom first and find it in a state of disarray and…empty. While Jax’s batmobilish sports car was in the driveway, I didn’t get my hopes up that he was still here. Okay, well, maybe I did a little bit. But I should’ve known better. He obviously got a ride, most likely to his dad’s house.
With a heavy sigh, I finally kick off my heels, leaving them in the middle of the messy bedroom floor to go talk to the babysitter.
“Hey, Crissy,” I whisper to the woman stretched out under a blanket and dozing on the sofa. “I’m home, but you can stay tonight if you want.”
“Yeah, okay,” she says as she moves into a sitting position. “Xavier just finally went back to sleep. He got upset when Jax left.”
Of course he was upset when his father walked out!
“Did Jax…did he talk to Xavier?” I ask, my chin trembling as I hold back tears.
“He did. Jax told him he would miss him, but he’ll see him soon." She hesitates before asking, "Is everything okay?”
“Yeah, um, thanks, Crissy,” I say in a rush before I breakdown in front of the babysitter. “I’m going to bed, but let me know if you need anything.”
Back in the bedroom, I close the door and then pull my dress off to change into pajamas as tears roll down my cheeks before I climb in bed underneath the sheets. They’re too cold and empty without Jax on the other side. Tonight is probably the first time since he came home from prison that we haven’t slept together. Not that he sleeps much. He’s so wired and high-strung that he usually stays up late working out in the garage or watching TV.
