Jax tenses up and immediately tucks me behind his body, shielding me from whatever danger is currently leering at us.
“What are you doing here?” Jax’s tone is low and threatening, a tone I’ve never once heard from his mouth before, and it makes me shiver.
“You know exactly what we’re doing here, druggie.” One of the men, who I currently can’t really see, says, making me frown. Druggie?
“I think you got your wires crossed, gentlemen.”
I peek over his shoulder, seeing them grow increasingly closer. Fear skitters down my spine, and I look around for anyone who can help. Most of the shops are already closed or closing on this early fall night, and there is no one walking the sidewalks like we were.
“Nah, I don’t think so,” the middle one says, looking at Jax like he is his next meal ticket.
“Look, tell your boss that I’m not the person he’s looking for,” Jax says, reaching a hand behind me to squeeze my hand. He does it several times, and I look at it like a dummy, unsure what the hell he’s trying to say.
“Are you not?” another says before he pounces, slamming a fist into the side of Jax’s face, making an unprompted scream tear from my mouth.
“Jax!” I yell as he shoves me away from him. I land on my ass, thankfully, but I want to dive back into this fight.
Because three against one, no matter how big of a guy you are, like Jax, is not a fair fight.
I watch as they take turns, punching and kicking until Jax’s grunts turn silent, turning his face into a bloody pulp, and I yell at them, begging them to stop. I look around, screaming for help, and fumble for my bag as tears stream down my face, but my hands are shaking so severely that I can’t even get the zipper to work right.
Finally, when Jax can’t take anymore, the guys stop and point a threatening finger at his face. His face that currently has two bloody eyes and a busted lip, at minimum.
“You can think about this when you get your next paycheck and remember who they should be making it out to.”
Jax groans in response and lifts his hand, his middle finger waving back at them. But the guy just chuckles, and he and his friends walk away.
I’m quick to his side. “Jax. Jax, oh my God. What was that?”
“City Girl,” he groans, reaching for my hand and holding it tight. “You should have run.”
Yeah, I should have. But I froze. And now I was going to have to live with that.
“City, grab my phone,” Jax says, coughing and reaching around blindly. I look around, my hand on his, and find it a few feet away.
“Okay, okay. I’ve got it,” I say, looking at the man who just got the shit beat out of him. “Should we get to your truck?”
But Jax doesn’t answer me, his body going nearly limp in front of me, and I panic. I have to call 911. I have to get the police here.
“Okay, Jax? I’m going to call an ambulance.”
He shoots his eyes open, scaring the shit out of me and making me scream. “No. No cops. Mitch.”
“Mitch?” I question Jax’s sanity, wondering if he meant to say that. Last time I saw Mitch, Jax had a hard time even looking at him.
“Mitch, City.”
Clear as day, he repeats himself, his eyes still swollen shut as he lays there, half passed out.
I click through his phone, my hands shaking and my urges telling me to call the police, but Jax is adamant about contacting his brother, so I find his number and press call.
22
jax
“What the hellhave you gotten yourself into?” I hear above me, my body landing on something soft beneath me.
I can hear someone moving around, but my brain is in a fog, and the only thing I can do is keep my eyes shut. “City.”
