Mother Effin Holidays
(this was a temporary title, it's now been changed to FIGHTER)
*published as a novella in the ALL I WANT anthology
* http://amzn.to/1x8lxrE
Mother Effin Holidays
Tijan
Chapter one
“Go Dale!” My brother, Dylan, shouted in my ear. He raced from his side of the truck while I was still putting the engine to park. “COME ON!” I heard his yell as he went past my door and veered to the back of the house.
I loved all six of my brothers, but I was not one of them. I was a girl. My real name was Delia. Our mom decided to give me the family name, but that was the most feminine thing about me. Delia had been shortened to Dele and somehow that switched to Dale when I was in junior high. That suited me fine. At that time, I liked fitting in with my brothers. I was scrawny enough to wear baggy shirts, baseball hats, and jeans with sneakers. People thought I was a boy and I was athletic enough to play sports with most of the guys. That ended around eighth grade. My boobs came in and my hips went out. Even though I was still thin, there was no way to hide my female lioness anymore.
I hated it and watching Dylan sprint away, I cursed at him. That was other part of being female that sucked. My speed had gone down. I could no longer race and tackle him to the ground. I enjoyed holding my own against my brothers, but that stopped and by freshman year they were too cool to even be associated with me. Now here I was, home from my second year at college for the holidays, and I’d been roped back into the bounty hunting business.
Our mom died from cancer when I was little and our dad died when I was in high school. Whereas my mother was nice, quiet, and the perfect doting mom, a pile of crotched doilies made for each kid testified to that fact. She really was perfect. Home cooked meals. She had picture books for each of us. I had memories of her waving goodbye from the window when the bus picked us up. However, our dad was the opposite. He was technically murdered in the back alley of a bar, but the real cause of his death was a lifetime of boozing, bar fights, and gambling gone wrong.
The social workers tried to take us into the system, but Dean was nineteen then. He refused and instead got a job at a local bounty hunting firm. Fast forward ten years and he owned the business. Every one of our brothers now worked as agents. The only black sheep in the family was me. I went to college and it was moments like that that I was glad. No six a.m. busts. No accidentally macing myself. No worrying if my Taser had the lock on it.
I cursed under my breath, scrambling to tuck the keys into my pants and zip up the pockets, as I tried holding my gun so it wasn’t pointed at anyone. Honestly. I’d been gone for five months. Five months of normalcy. Five months of staying up late to eat pizza and drink beer. Five months of going on dates. Five months of doing what other college students did and I would bet money my friends weren’t home, chasing after a bail jumper. Oh no. They weren’t worried if they remembered to grab their handcuffs or not.
“DALE!”
My cousin was waiting at the other end of the house. He waved me off. As I ran to him, already feeling short of breath, he gestured to the south corner. “Radio when you get there.”
Radio?
Shit. I forgot my damn radio. I glanced at him, would he have an extra? Did I dare ask and risk being chewed out? Judging by the firm set of his jaw, I was guessing no. My cousins and brothers were nuts when it came to this stuff. If you forgot a piece of equipment, you got scrub duty at the end of the night.
As I ran around to the backyard, I saw Dylan in the opposite corner. He was looking all around with a hand to his radio. I heard him say, “South right side clear.”
My cousin added, “Left front clear.”
The rest checked in and I heard Dean, my oldest brother, yelling from the front. “WHERE IS HE? WE KNOW HE’S HERE!”
“Dale!” My brother was waving his arms. He cupped his hands around his mouth and yelled, “Check in. What’s wrong with you?”
What was wrong with me? Oh, the fact that they woke me at up six in the morning might’ve had something to do with it. Or that I hadn’t worked out since I got on the airplane heading from California to Chicago back in August. Or the fact that I didn’t want to do this, they just assumed I would jump at the chance. I wanted to scream back at him and give him the middle finger, but instead I did my job. Scan the windows. Look for anyone looking back. Look for any movement in the curtains. Look for pretty much anything. When I saw nothing, I yelled back at him, “I’m clear.”
He lifted his radio and waved it at me. “Check in.”
Across his radio, I heard, “Dale, check in. Check in, Dale.”
I had no fucking radio.
“DALE!”
That was it. I gave him the middle finger this time.
He groaned in frustration, but checked in for me. “South left side clear.” He paused, then added, “Dale’s an asshole.”
I lifted my finger higher above my head.
He laughed, but then our drama was forgotten. We heard from the front side of the house, “I DON’T CARE WHAT RIGHTS YOU THINK YOU HAVE. WE HAVE A WARRANT, MOTHER FUCKER. LET US IN. NOW.”
I grinned, shaking my head. Memories of my childhood rolled back over me and I adjusted my stance, leaning most of my weight on my left leg, as I got comfortable. My job was to watch and report anything. My brother’s job, Dean, was to roust the bail jumper and as he continued to yell at whoever was the unlucky one to answer the door, he was doing it to perfection.
I waved at Dylan and cupped my hands around my mouth to yell at him, “Who’s the jumper?”
His hands immediately shot up in the air. “Are you kidding me? You didn’t read the file?”
I’d been focused on dressing, coffee, brushing my teeth, coffee, finding my shoes, coffee, and then fixing my hair. They were lucky I remembered to grab a bullet proof vest. I shrugged back at him.
A litany of curse words left him. “Are you kidding me?!”
I waited. He’d break. He’d tell me, act like he was super disappointed in me, and I knew Dylan. He’d forget about this the instant we actually got the guy. I still had my fingers crossed, hoping this incident wouldn’t be remembered later. I could grab a radio back at the office, hopefully before anyone remembered to confront me about it.
He swore again, but shouted back, “Your ex.”
My what? I looked back at the house. Not recognizing it, I asked, “Which one?”
Then a curtain moved and I saw him. Holy fucking hell. Dylan yelled back, “Jaxon,” but he didn’t need to. I was staring right into the piercing brown eyes of the one ex-boyfriend I had hoped to never see in my life.
FUCK!
His brown hair was cut short into a crew cut, but it made him even more mouth-wateringly attractive. Even now, seeing how he was looking around, how the shadows played across his chiseled cheekbones and those perfect lips that I could testify knew exactly how to be used. I thought the fucker went to New York to pursue a modeling career. What was he doing back? And why was he the bail jumper? Well. Okay. I wasn’t that surprised by that last part.
Then he saw me too. I felt whiplash from the sting that happened then. His eyes narrowed. A smirk appeared, and I could read his thoughts. He was thinking of running for it. We had talked over the past months. He knew I had slacked at working out and when he stood, standing there shirtless, his lean physique so perfectly molded and sculpted. My groin was aching, already. Jaxon was the guy I had to quit. For real. I had to quit him. He was an addiction and he got me into trouble, rather than keeping me out of it. My brothers hated him, but oh god, my eyes trailed down his chest again, and I was remembering all the reasons why I stopped listening to them.
Then he leaned back, brought up his foot, and my hand went to grab my radio. It grabbed my shoulder instead. Crap. This was why I should’ve swallowed my pride and asked for an extra. He was really going to run and Dylan was looking the other way.
“NO!” I yelled.
Jaxon flashed me a grin. Good Lord. He was gorgeous, then he flung himself out the window and I stopped admiring his perfect cheek dimples.
I looked to see if Dylan had heard me. He hadn’t. His ear was pressed to his radio and I heard buzz coming from the other side of the house. Then he took off, disappearing around the side.
“DYLAN!”
He didn’t stop.
Jaxon had landed in a roll and was up on his feet. He looked like a damn cat doing that. The athleticism in his one pinkie equaled all of mine and half my brothers. We were screwed. Then he dashed past me and laughed out, “Looks like you’re going to have to tackle me, Doily. It’s just you and me.” He didn’t wait around, though. He turned and soared into the woods behind his house.
For a moment, just one moment, I was mesmerized by the image of his ass. He was wearing black cargo pants and how they molded to his backside, with how his muscles were shifting, rolling seamlessly as he continued running, I wet my lips. It’d been too long since I had some of that fun, then I remembered what I was supposed to be doing and I tore after him.
I screamed over my shoulder, “RUNNER!” I wasn’t holding my breath for help, but, gritting my teeth, I was going to really try and get him, just for the enjoyment of tackling him underneath me one more time.
It was five minutes later when I realized that I had no shot of getting him. My lungs were protesting, threatening to shut off completely if I didn’t slow down, and my legs weren’t helping. It was like they forgot how to even run. I almost pitched to the side twice and my knees wanted to buckle. It was a log that was my demise. I was running, or still trying, even though I was wheezing so loud that even if I had a radio, I wouldn’t have been to talk into it, and then I saw the log. I jumped over it and as I was airborne and going down, I saw the second log.
A scream erupted from me, but my foot hit the log, my ankle when one way. I went the other way, and I crumpled to the ground.
Scathing pain flared all over me, making my insides feeling like they were burning up. Clutching at my ankle, I pressed down on it. They always said to stop the swelling. I never read the bounty hunting first aid manual to explain why swelling was bad, but I was holding my ankle like it was a life preserver. Biting my lip and rocking back and forth, the rest of me was trying not to let loose the water works. I was a girl, but fuck, I couldn’t act like a girl. No crying. Or I’d hear about this moment twenty years from now.
“Doily.”
I glanced up. Jaxon had come back. He stopped a few feet away and watched me with a wary expression. Sweat had started to run down his chest and he rested his hands on his hips. His pants slipped down, showing the v that his muscles were formed in, dipping underneath his waistband. Kneeling down, his stomach muscles clenched even tighter together.
I wanted to scream again. He looked so damn beautiful and here I was. Sweaty. I felt my face and looked at the blood on my finger. My hair was probably a mess and I wore a pink tanktop underneath my vest. It would’ve been hot, if the bottom wasn’t ripped into shattered ends. Glancing at my jeans, a big hole was ripped, a horrifying feeling took over me as I followed where the rip had started. Yep. It went from my knee and ended at my crouch.
Jaxon hadn’t knelt to look at my ankle. He was staring right at my bright orange thong underwear.
“Stop.” I groaned. Bending down so my forehead was pressed to my leg, maybe he’d go away.
A low smooth chuckle came from it. It rippled over me, sending old sensations and tingles through me too. He stood and came closer. Stopping so he was out of reach, he asked, “No radio, huh?”
I snarled at him, “Go away.”
“You’re supposed to trick me into getting close. Then you put those handcuffs on me. Remember?” He nudged my leg with his foot. It was a gentle touch, but another moan ripped from me. Fuck, this was hurting.
He added, bending down so he could actually look at my ankle this time, “That’s how we used to have fun, remember? Hmmm. It doesn’t look broken. Ice it and you’ll be fine by tonight.”
“What’d you do, anyways?”
The light flirting look disappeared. He grew serious in a second and he stepped away again. “I can’t tell you that, my little Doily.”
I hated that name.
“Since you’re not going to die, I’m going to complete my escape right now.”
“Jaxon.” I looked at him, pleading now. “You can’t leave me like this. Carry me back. They’re probably still searching that house. They won’t even think to come look for me.”
He shrugged. “That’s your problem. And they’ll look for you.”
At that second, we heard shouts from behind us and a wide grin came over his face. “See. You’re the baby girl. They’ll always look out for you.”
“Jaxon, for real. What’d you do? I can help you out.” I needed to stall. Shoving that pain down and out of my mind, I focused on him. Bringing him in would help prevent a lot of the teasing that I knew I was going to endure. Come closer, a little closer. I started to wedge out my handcuffs from my waist and opened them. One quick flick of my wrist and I might be able to get them on his foot. Maybe. Using my fingers, and holding my arm in place to shield it, I started to slide the handcuffs so they were wider.
He laughed. “I don’t think, sweet cheeks. Listen, I’ll turn my in this weekend. I promise.”
“Why not now? What’s so important—” But even as I said, I knew. “Oh no.”
He’d been watching me. As I connected the dots, his smirk grew. “Yeah. Sorry.”
“You’re fighting again?”
“I gotta make money somehow. I’m in the Boxing Day match this weekend.”
I groaned, rolling my eyes. “We’re not in Canada. We don’t have Boxing Day.”
He laughed, his top lip curved up in an adorable way and he began walking backwards. He lifted a hand to wave. “Still. I’ll see you this weekend. I’ll even come to your bedroom so only you can get the jump. How’s that?”
He had a wicked glint in his eyes, but knowing Jaxon, I knew he would follow as he promised. I also knew that meant we wouldn’t be catching him until then. He was going underground and if there was one person that Dean wouldn’t be able to find when they didn’t want to be found, was Jaxon.
“DALE!”
Dylan was coming down the path. I looked back, but he wasn’t within view yet. “I’M HERE!” Then I turned back.
Jaxon was gone.
CHAPTER TWO
I was on the couch with six bags of ice all around my ankle. I only needed one, but nope, my dumbass brothers thought it was hilarious to make the pile as high as it could be. Dylan wanted to see if it would go all the way to the ceiling, then Dean yelled at him for using too many ice packs. When I tried removing them, they just laughed and brought them back. I managed to wedge a blanket in between some of the ice packs so there was only one on my ankle. I used the ice packs themselves to hide the blanket and it was a win-win. My brothers kept laughing at me, my leg stuck under a house of ice bags, but I was secretly laughing at them.
Dumb shits.
Though, it was either this or be harassed the whole time because I went into the field without a radio. Really. I knew better. The only one who was really angry was Dean, but it was because I hadn’t used my feminine wiles on Jaxon, but hello, it’s Jaxon. He’s not exactly dumb material, not like my brothers.
It was that evening around nine when someone shouted and four of my brothers sprinted past the door to the back of the house. When I heard the office door being slammed shut and then car doors were being opened, I pushed myself upright.
Dylan sprinted past, or tried. He was holding a coffee cup so he could only jog or it would spill on him.
“HEY!” I yelled at him.
He jerked and the coffee spilled onto his arm. Turning to me with a scowl, he said, “What the eff, Dale? I have coffee here.”
“I have a question here.”
He growled at me, but looked around. When he didn’t see what he wanted, he used the bottom of his shirt and started wiping at some of the coffee. “Yeah? What do you want?” He gestured to himself. “You got me while I clean up, then I’m out of here.”
“Where’s everyone going?”
“Oh.” The growl left him and he started laughing. “You were had, little sister.”
“What are you talking about?”
“The Boxing Day fight. Your boy lied to you.”
“He’s not my boy and how do you know?” Although, I wasn’t surprised Jaxon had lied. That was another factor why we broke up.
“We got a tip. He’s fighting tonight, not on Boxing Day, although he could be fighting then too. But yeah.” He finished cleaning up the coffee and then frowned at his shirt. Putting his coffee cup on the counter, he took off his flannel shirt. It had been unbuttoned and hanging open. After tossing that on a chair, he pulled off his white tee shirt, the one he had used to absorb the coffee.
“Oh my.”
We both turned to the doorway. There, holding onto the doorframe with her mouth formed in an O and her eyes going down my brother’s body, slowly going down, was my best friend.
I motioned to her. “Haley.”
She didn’t answer. She was only completing her first scan, going to his feet, and then she started back up.
“Haley.”
She held a hand up towards me. “Hold on. Girl’s working here.”
Realizing he was a fine specimen, my brother moved as if he were in slow motion. He started to reach for his flannel shirt, flexing his arm muscles, then turning his arm so his shoulder muscle bulged up. The pectorals were next and lastly, as he grabbed his shirt, he made sure to suck in his breath and twisted to the side so his abdominal muscles were cut as much as possible.
It could’ve been a scene out of a sitcom. Haley wasn’t even hiding her reaction. She had a latte cup in her hand and while she was still drinking in the sight of my brother, her hand lifted the lid. She let it fall to the floor and she dipped her fingers inside, then wiped them at the corner of her mouth.
She was foaming. I got it.
A second later, she glanced at me, biting down on her lip and trying to hold back her laughter. She pointed to herself. “Get it?”
I rolled my eyes. “He’s my brother. You’re disgusting.”
Dylan realized his Magic Mike moment was over and chuckled, buttoning up his flannel shirt at a faster pace. He gestured to the cup she was holding. “What’s that?”
“A latte.”
He narrowed his eyes and pressed his lips together. He started for her, but she held it back and circled the room to me.
She said, “It’s for your sister.”
As she gave it me, I beamed back at her. “Finally. The best friend has arrived.”
She rolled her eyes, making a tsking sound, and perched at the side of the couch. Then she studied the mound of ice packs. “Uh, is that good for you?”
Dylan barked out a laugh, slapping his leg. “That’s what she gets for not taking a radio out into the field.”
Haley frowned at him. “What? She gets ice-packed to death?”
He stopped laughing. “What?”
I asked her, “They said Jaxon is fighting tonight. Do you know where?”
She looked back at me, giving me an incredulous look.
“What?”
“Has college sucked all your intelligent cells out of you? It’s Christmas Eve….” She waited, her eyebrows rising at the same time, higher and higher, as she kept waiting. Then she made a circling motion in the air. “Come on…”
Christmas Eve. Fighting. Jaxon.
It hit me and I fell back down against the coach. “Fuck me.”
“Uh.” Haley tilted her head to the side. “I think he actually did that one time there.”
“What?” Dylan was looking and forth between us. He had grabbed his coffee cup and was reaching for mine.
I pulled it to my chest, shooting him a dark look. “Back off. It’s mine.”
He rolled his eyes. “Whatever.”
A honking came from outside and he waved at them through the window. “I gotta go. See you later and you better get all dressed and pretty. You’re going to be seeing your boy later tonight.” He gave us both a cocky smirk and then left, using his back to push open the door.
The second it was closed, Haley turned to me. “Tell me you want to go too.”
“Hell yes.”
We were in total agreement, even though not a word was spoken. We both started knocking the ice packs off my leg. When she saw the blanket, Haley grinned and shook her head, but didn’t say a word. When all of them were off, she took one of my hands and I pushed up from the couch with the other. Here was the testing moment, if I could put weight back on my leg or not. I would have to be able to walk.
Then, holding my breath and my latte, I started standing up.
Nope. Daggers of pain shot up my leg and I cried out. No way. I couldn’t walk.
“Great,” I muttered. The pain almost made me drop my coffee. That would be a cold day in hell. Coffee came before everything. “Now what am I going to do?”
Haley was thinking, then her eyes lit up. She let go of my hand and I caught myself from falling back to the couch, but then screamed at the sudden rush of more pain.
“Oh.” She grimaced. “Sorry about that, but wait.” She ran upstairs, then ran downstairs, giving me a thumbs-sign as she passed the living room. The door to the basement was thrown open and I heard her going down to the basement. Then she came back up. Pausing in the doorway to the living room, she scratched the top of her head, then her hand jerked up again. “I got it!” She sprinted back out, through the kitchen, and I twisted around so I could see through the window. She was heading for the shed.
A second later, the big door opened for the shed and she came back out, pushing my worst nightmare.
“Fuck me,” I muttered.
She saw me watching and grinned brightly, then stood to the side and waved her arms towards it. “Voila. A wheelchair!”
Yep. This was my life. I was going to hunt down my ex-boyfriend in a wheelchair. This had to be a bounty hunter’s first and probably most embarrassing moment in history.
I mustered up a weak smile and gave her a thumbs-up sign back.
She clapped and waved her hands in the air. “This will be fun. I want to wear a bullet-proof vest.”
Tijan
Chapter one
“Go Dale!” My brother, Dylan, shouted in my ear. He raced from his side of the truck while I was still putting the engine to park. “COME ON!” I heard his yell as he went past my door and veered to the back of the house.
I loved all six of my brothers, but I was not one of them. I was a girl. My real name was Delia. Our mom decided to give me the family name, but that was the most feminine thing about me. Delia had been shortened to Dele and somehow that switched to Dale when I was in junior high. That suited me fine. At that time, I liked fitting in with my brothers. I was scrawny enough to wear baggy shirts, baseball hats, and jeans with sneakers. People thought I was a boy and I was athletic enough to play sports with most of the guys. That ended around eighth grade. My boobs came in and my hips went out. Even though I was still thin, there was no way to hide my female lioness anymore.
I hated it and watching Dylan sprint away, I cursed at him. That was other part of being female that sucked. My speed had gone down. I could no longer race and tackle him to the ground. I enjoyed holding my own against my brothers, but that stopped and by freshman year they were too cool to even be associated with me. Now here I was, home from my second year at college for the holidays, and I’d been roped back into the bounty hunting business.
Our mom died from cancer when I was little and our dad died when I was in high school. Whereas my mother was nice, quiet, and the perfect doting mom, a pile of crotched doilies made for each kid testified to that fact. She really was perfect. Home cooked meals. She had picture books for each of us. I had memories of her waving goodbye from the window when the bus picked us up. However, our dad was the opposite. He was technically murdered in the back alley of a bar, but the real cause of his death was a lifetime of boozing, bar fights, and gambling gone wrong.
The social workers tried to take us into the system, but Dean was nineteen then. He refused and instead got a job at a local bounty hunting firm. Fast forward ten years and he owned the business. Every one of our brothers now worked as agents. The only black sheep in the family was me. I went to college and it was moments like that that I was glad. No six a.m. busts. No accidentally macing myself. No worrying if my Taser had the lock on it.
I cursed under my breath, scrambling to tuck the keys into my pants and zip up the pockets, as I tried holding my gun so it wasn’t pointed at anyone. Honestly. I’d been gone for five months. Five months of normalcy. Five months of staying up late to eat pizza and drink beer. Five months of going on dates. Five months of doing what other college students did and I would bet money my friends weren’t home, chasing after a bail jumper. Oh no. They weren’t worried if they remembered to grab their handcuffs or not.
“DALE!”
My cousin was waiting at the other end of the house. He waved me off. As I ran to him, already feeling short of breath, he gestured to the south corner. “Radio when you get there.”
Radio?
Shit. I forgot my damn radio. I glanced at him, would he have an extra? Did I dare ask and risk being chewed out? Judging by the firm set of his jaw, I was guessing no. My cousins and brothers were nuts when it came to this stuff. If you forgot a piece of equipment, you got scrub duty at the end of the night.
As I ran around to the backyard, I saw Dylan in the opposite corner. He was looking all around with a hand to his radio. I heard him say, “South right side clear.”
My cousin added, “Left front clear.”
The rest checked in and I heard Dean, my oldest brother, yelling from the front. “WHERE IS HE? WE KNOW HE’S HERE!”
“Dale!” My brother was waving his arms. He cupped his hands around his mouth and yelled, “Check in. What’s wrong with you?”
What was wrong with me? Oh, the fact that they woke me at up six in the morning might’ve had something to do with it. Or that I hadn’t worked out since I got on the airplane heading from California to Chicago back in August. Or the fact that I didn’t want to do this, they just assumed I would jump at the chance. I wanted to scream back at him and give him the middle finger, but instead I did my job. Scan the windows. Look for anyone looking back. Look for any movement in the curtains. Look for pretty much anything. When I saw nothing, I yelled back at him, “I’m clear.”
He lifted his radio and waved it at me. “Check in.”
Across his radio, I heard, “Dale, check in. Check in, Dale.”
I had no fucking radio.
“DALE!”
That was it. I gave him the middle finger this time.
He groaned in frustration, but checked in for me. “South left side clear.” He paused, then added, “Dale’s an asshole.”
I lifted my finger higher above my head.
He laughed, but then our drama was forgotten. We heard from the front side of the house, “I DON’T CARE WHAT RIGHTS YOU THINK YOU HAVE. WE HAVE A WARRANT, MOTHER FUCKER. LET US IN. NOW.”
I grinned, shaking my head. Memories of my childhood rolled back over me and I adjusted my stance, leaning most of my weight on my left leg, as I got comfortable. My job was to watch and report anything. My brother’s job, Dean, was to roust the bail jumper and as he continued to yell at whoever was the unlucky one to answer the door, he was doing it to perfection.
I waved at Dylan and cupped my hands around my mouth to yell at him, “Who’s the jumper?”
His hands immediately shot up in the air. “Are you kidding me? You didn’t read the file?”
I’d been focused on dressing, coffee, brushing my teeth, coffee, finding my shoes, coffee, and then fixing my hair. They were lucky I remembered to grab a bullet proof vest. I shrugged back at him.
A litany of curse words left him. “Are you kidding me?!”
I waited. He’d break. He’d tell me, act like he was super disappointed in me, and I knew Dylan. He’d forget about this the instant we actually got the guy. I still had my fingers crossed, hoping this incident wouldn’t be remembered later. I could grab a radio back at the office, hopefully before anyone remembered to confront me about it.
He swore again, but shouted back, “Your ex.”
My what? I looked back at the house. Not recognizing it, I asked, “Which one?”
Then a curtain moved and I saw him. Holy fucking hell. Dylan yelled back, “Jaxon,” but he didn’t need to. I was staring right into the piercing brown eyes of the one ex-boyfriend I had hoped to never see in my life.
FUCK!
His brown hair was cut short into a crew cut, but it made him even more mouth-wateringly attractive. Even now, seeing how he was looking around, how the shadows played across his chiseled cheekbones and those perfect lips that I could testify knew exactly how to be used. I thought the fucker went to New York to pursue a modeling career. What was he doing back? And why was he the bail jumper? Well. Okay. I wasn’t that surprised by that last part.
Then he saw me too. I felt whiplash from the sting that happened then. His eyes narrowed. A smirk appeared, and I could read his thoughts. He was thinking of running for it. We had talked over the past months. He knew I had slacked at working out and when he stood, standing there shirtless, his lean physique so perfectly molded and sculpted. My groin was aching, already. Jaxon was the guy I had to quit. For real. I had to quit him. He was an addiction and he got me into trouble, rather than keeping me out of it. My brothers hated him, but oh god, my eyes trailed down his chest again, and I was remembering all the reasons why I stopped listening to them.
Then he leaned back, brought up his foot, and my hand went to grab my radio. It grabbed my shoulder instead. Crap. This was why I should’ve swallowed my pride and asked for an extra. He was really going to run and Dylan was looking the other way.
“NO!” I yelled.
Jaxon flashed me a grin. Good Lord. He was gorgeous, then he flung himself out the window and I stopped admiring his perfect cheek dimples.
I looked to see if Dylan had heard me. He hadn’t. His ear was pressed to his radio and I heard buzz coming from the other side of the house. Then he took off, disappearing around the side.
“DYLAN!”
He didn’t stop.
Jaxon had landed in a roll and was up on his feet. He looked like a damn cat doing that. The athleticism in his one pinkie equaled all of mine and half my brothers. We were screwed. Then he dashed past me and laughed out, “Looks like you’re going to have to tackle me, Doily. It’s just you and me.” He didn’t wait around, though. He turned and soared into the woods behind his house.
For a moment, just one moment, I was mesmerized by the image of his ass. He was wearing black cargo pants and how they molded to his backside, with how his muscles were shifting, rolling seamlessly as he continued running, I wet my lips. It’d been too long since I had some of that fun, then I remembered what I was supposed to be doing and I tore after him.
I screamed over my shoulder, “RUNNER!” I wasn’t holding my breath for help, but, gritting my teeth, I was going to really try and get him, just for the enjoyment of tackling him underneath me one more time.
It was five minutes later when I realized that I had no shot of getting him. My lungs were protesting, threatening to shut off completely if I didn’t slow down, and my legs weren’t helping. It was like they forgot how to even run. I almost pitched to the side twice and my knees wanted to buckle. It was a log that was my demise. I was running, or still trying, even though I was wheezing so loud that even if I had a radio, I wouldn’t have been to talk into it, and then I saw the log. I jumped over it and as I was airborne and going down, I saw the second log.
A scream erupted from me, but my foot hit the log, my ankle when one way. I went the other way, and I crumpled to the ground.
Scathing pain flared all over me, making my insides feeling like they were burning up. Clutching at my ankle, I pressed down on it. They always said to stop the swelling. I never read the bounty hunting first aid manual to explain why swelling was bad, but I was holding my ankle like it was a life preserver. Biting my lip and rocking back and forth, the rest of me was trying not to let loose the water works. I was a girl, but fuck, I couldn’t act like a girl. No crying. Or I’d hear about this moment twenty years from now.
“Doily.”
I glanced up. Jaxon had come back. He stopped a few feet away and watched me with a wary expression. Sweat had started to run down his chest and he rested his hands on his hips. His pants slipped down, showing the v that his muscles were formed in, dipping underneath his waistband. Kneeling down, his stomach muscles clenched even tighter together.
I wanted to scream again. He looked so damn beautiful and here I was. Sweaty. I felt my face and looked at the blood on my finger. My hair was probably a mess and I wore a pink tanktop underneath my vest. It would’ve been hot, if the bottom wasn’t ripped into shattered ends. Glancing at my jeans, a big hole was ripped, a horrifying feeling took over me as I followed where the rip had started. Yep. It went from my knee and ended at my crouch.
Jaxon hadn’t knelt to look at my ankle. He was staring right at my bright orange thong underwear.
“Stop.” I groaned. Bending down so my forehead was pressed to my leg, maybe he’d go away.
A low smooth chuckle came from it. It rippled over me, sending old sensations and tingles through me too. He stood and came closer. Stopping so he was out of reach, he asked, “No radio, huh?”
I snarled at him, “Go away.”
“You’re supposed to trick me into getting close. Then you put those handcuffs on me. Remember?” He nudged my leg with his foot. It was a gentle touch, but another moan ripped from me. Fuck, this was hurting.
He added, bending down so he could actually look at my ankle this time, “That’s how we used to have fun, remember? Hmmm. It doesn’t look broken. Ice it and you’ll be fine by tonight.”
“What’d you do, anyways?”
The light flirting look disappeared. He grew serious in a second and he stepped away again. “I can’t tell you that, my little Doily.”
I hated that name.
“Since you’re not going to die, I’m going to complete my escape right now.”
“Jaxon.” I looked at him, pleading now. “You can’t leave me like this. Carry me back. They’re probably still searching that house. They won’t even think to come look for me.”
He shrugged. “That’s your problem. And they’ll look for you.”
At that second, we heard shouts from behind us and a wide grin came over his face. “See. You’re the baby girl. They’ll always look out for you.”
“Jaxon, for real. What’d you do? I can help you out.” I needed to stall. Shoving that pain down and out of my mind, I focused on him. Bringing him in would help prevent a lot of the teasing that I knew I was going to endure. Come closer, a little closer. I started to wedge out my handcuffs from my waist and opened them. One quick flick of my wrist and I might be able to get them on his foot. Maybe. Using my fingers, and holding my arm in place to shield it, I started to slide the handcuffs so they were wider.
He laughed. “I don’t think, sweet cheeks. Listen, I’ll turn my in this weekend. I promise.”
“Why not now? What’s so important—” But even as I said, I knew. “Oh no.”
He’d been watching me. As I connected the dots, his smirk grew. “Yeah. Sorry.”
“You’re fighting again?”
“I gotta make money somehow. I’m in the Boxing Day match this weekend.”
I groaned, rolling my eyes. “We’re not in Canada. We don’t have Boxing Day.”
He laughed, his top lip curved up in an adorable way and he began walking backwards. He lifted a hand to wave. “Still. I’ll see you this weekend. I’ll even come to your bedroom so only you can get the jump. How’s that?”
He had a wicked glint in his eyes, but knowing Jaxon, I knew he would follow as he promised. I also knew that meant we wouldn’t be catching him until then. He was going underground and if there was one person that Dean wouldn’t be able to find when they didn’t want to be found, was Jaxon.
“DALE!”
Dylan was coming down the path. I looked back, but he wasn’t within view yet. “I’M HERE!” Then I turned back.
Jaxon was gone.
CHAPTER TWO
I was on the couch with six bags of ice all around my ankle. I only needed one, but nope, my dumbass brothers thought it was hilarious to make the pile as high as it could be. Dylan wanted to see if it would go all the way to the ceiling, then Dean yelled at him for using too many ice packs. When I tried removing them, they just laughed and brought them back. I managed to wedge a blanket in between some of the ice packs so there was only one on my ankle. I used the ice packs themselves to hide the blanket and it was a win-win. My brothers kept laughing at me, my leg stuck under a house of ice bags, but I was secretly laughing at them.
Dumb shits.
Though, it was either this or be harassed the whole time because I went into the field without a radio. Really. I knew better. The only one who was really angry was Dean, but it was because I hadn’t used my feminine wiles on Jaxon, but hello, it’s Jaxon. He’s not exactly dumb material, not like my brothers.
It was that evening around nine when someone shouted and four of my brothers sprinted past the door to the back of the house. When I heard the office door being slammed shut and then car doors were being opened, I pushed myself upright.
Dylan sprinted past, or tried. He was holding a coffee cup so he could only jog or it would spill on him.
“HEY!” I yelled at him.
He jerked and the coffee spilled onto his arm. Turning to me with a scowl, he said, “What the eff, Dale? I have coffee here.”
“I have a question here.”
He growled at me, but looked around. When he didn’t see what he wanted, he used the bottom of his shirt and started wiping at some of the coffee. “Yeah? What do you want?” He gestured to himself. “You got me while I clean up, then I’m out of here.”
“Where’s everyone going?”
“Oh.” The growl left him and he started laughing. “You were had, little sister.”
“What are you talking about?”
“The Boxing Day fight. Your boy lied to you.”
“He’s not my boy and how do you know?” Although, I wasn’t surprised Jaxon had lied. That was another factor why we broke up.
“We got a tip. He’s fighting tonight, not on Boxing Day, although he could be fighting then too. But yeah.” He finished cleaning up the coffee and then frowned at his shirt. Putting his coffee cup on the counter, he took off his flannel shirt. It had been unbuttoned and hanging open. After tossing that on a chair, he pulled off his white tee shirt, the one he had used to absorb the coffee.
“Oh my.”
We both turned to the doorway. There, holding onto the doorframe with her mouth formed in an O and her eyes going down my brother’s body, slowly going down, was my best friend.
I motioned to her. “Haley.”
She didn’t answer. She was only completing her first scan, going to his feet, and then she started back up.
“Haley.”
She held a hand up towards me. “Hold on. Girl’s working here.”
Realizing he was a fine specimen, my brother moved as if he were in slow motion. He started to reach for his flannel shirt, flexing his arm muscles, then turning his arm so his shoulder muscle bulged up. The pectorals were next and lastly, as he grabbed his shirt, he made sure to suck in his breath and twisted to the side so his abdominal muscles were cut as much as possible.
It could’ve been a scene out of a sitcom. Haley wasn’t even hiding her reaction. She had a latte cup in her hand and while she was still drinking in the sight of my brother, her hand lifted the lid. She let it fall to the floor and she dipped her fingers inside, then wiped them at the corner of her mouth.
She was foaming. I got it.
A second later, she glanced at me, biting down on her lip and trying to hold back her laughter. She pointed to herself. “Get it?”
I rolled my eyes. “He’s my brother. You’re disgusting.”
Dylan realized his Magic Mike moment was over and chuckled, buttoning up his flannel shirt at a faster pace. He gestured to the cup she was holding. “What’s that?”
“A latte.”
He narrowed his eyes and pressed his lips together. He started for her, but she held it back and circled the room to me.
She said, “It’s for your sister.”
As she gave it me, I beamed back at her. “Finally. The best friend has arrived.”
She rolled her eyes, making a tsking sound, and perched at the side of the couch. Then she studied the mound of ice packs. “Uh, is that good for you?”
Dylan barked out a laugh, slapping his leg. “That’s what she gets for not taking a radio out into the field.”
Haley frowned at him. “What? She gets ice-packed to death?”
He stopped laughing. “What?”
I asked her, “They said Jaxon is fighting tonight. Do you know where?”
She looked back at me, giving me an incredulous look.
“What?”
“Has college sucked all your intelligent cells out of you? It’s Christmas Eve….” She waited, her eyebrows rising at the same time, higher and higher, as she kept waiting. Then she made a circling motion in the air. “Come on…”
Christmas Eve. Fighting. Jaxon.
It hit me and I fell back down against the coach. “Fuck me.”
“Uh.” Haley tilted her head to the side. “I think he actually did that one time there.”
“What?” Dylan was looking and forth between us. He had grabbed his coffee cup and was reaching for mine.
I pulled it to my chest, shooting him a dark look. “Back off. It’s mine.”
He rolled his eyes. “Whatever.”
A honking came from outside and he waved at them through the window. “I gotta go. See you later and you better get all dressed and pretty. You’re going to be seeing your boy later tonight.” He gave us both a cocky smirk and then left, using his back to push open the door.
The second it was closed, Haley turned to me. “Tell me you want to go too.”
“Hell yes.”
We were in total agreement, even though not a word was spoken. We both started knocking the ice packs off my leg. When she saw the blanket, Haley grinned and shook her head, but didn’t say a word. When all of them were off, she took one of my hands and I pushed up from the couch with the other. Here was the testing moment, if I could put weight back on my leg or not. I would have to be able to walk.
Then, holding my breath and my latte, I started standing up.
Nope. Daggers of pain shot up my leg and I cried out. No way. I couldn’t walk.
“Great,” I muttered. The pain almost made me drop my coffee. That would be a cold day in hell. Coffee came before everything. “Now what am I going to do?”
Haley was thinking, then her eyes lit up. She let go of my hand and I caught myself from falling back to the couch, but then screamed at the sudden rush of more pain.
“Oh.” She grimaced. “Sorry about that, but wait.” She ran upstairs, then ran downstairs, giving me a thumbs-sign as she passed the living room. The door to the basement was thrown open and I heard her going down to the basement. Then she came back up. Pausing in the doorway to the living room, she scratched the top of her head, then her hand jerked up again. “I got it!” She sprinted back out, through the kitchen, and I twisted around so I could see through the window. She was heading for the shed.
A second later, the big door opened for the shed and she came back out, pushing my worst nightmare.
“Fuck me,” I muttered.
She saw me watching and grinned brightly, then stood to the side and waved her arms towards it. “Voila. A wheelchair!”
Yep. This was my life. I was going to hunt down my ex-boyfriend in a wheelchair. This had to be a bounty hunter’s first and probably most embarrassing moment in history.
I mustered up a weak smile and gave her a thumbs-up sign back.
She clapped and waved her hands in the air. “This will be fun. I want to wear a bullet-proof vest.”
