Against the Cage (Worth the Fight #1) (18 page)

Cain gave Chrissy an agitated look before reaching for Jack’s shoulders and pushing him down on a nearby bench. He dragged a chair toward Jack and sat down. He then took Jack’s hands and began taping them up. Chrissy watched the process curiously.

Travis walked over and threw an arm around her shoulder; he held an apple in the other hand and took a bite. “You see, baby? Those hands are deadly.”
Oh, boy, do I know about Jack’s hands
. “And the taping needs to be nice and tight to protect his wrists and knuckles.”

“Dude, you mind?” Jack snarled at Travis.

Travis looked sideways at Chrissy; his face was just inches from hers. “Yeah, guess it’s not such a good idea to be hitting on Slade’s baby sister.” He took another bite of his apple. “Unless, of course, you want to be hit on.” He winked before removing his arm. She giggled again. His southern charm was disarming.

Slade was saying something to Jack as Cain continued to wrap Jack’s hands. Then he reached for Jack’s shoulders and massaged them a few times as Jack moved his neck from side to side. Chrissy was enthralled by the entire process. When Cain finished, Jack stood, then jumped up and down repeatedly as Slade continued to talk to him. With the noise from the outside and the other fighters in the locker room, Chrissy couldn’t make out exactly what Slade was saying.

“Aren’t you going to get tired with all that jumping up and down?” Chrissy asked.

“He’s warming up,” Slade said. “He can’t go in there cold; he needs to break a sweat. His muscles need to be loose and warmed up.”

“I guess it makes sense. From a medical standpoint, it’s a good idea to stretch and warm up.”

“Yeah, baby. You see, there are certain rules when it comes to fighting,” Travis said. He was standing close to her again, and every time he spoke to her, especially when he called her “baby,” she noticed Jack’s jaw twitch. “You load up on carbs the night before. You drink lots of water and eat healthy the day of the fight, and you avoid sex.”

Chrissy’s cheeks flushed. “And what happens if you break any of those rules?”

Jack had a mischievous grin on his face as Travis answered, “Well, sugar, you could lose the fight. You could throw up, cramp up. Who knows?”

Slade looked at Jack, then Chrissy. “Oh, no. Please don’t say it. Don’t tell me. You ate right before coming here, didn’t you? Fuck, Chrissy, did you bring him a burger with fries or something? Please don’t tell me you gave him soda.”

“No! What? No.” She was flustered—and not a little surprised that her brother was so oblivious that he would think that she’d bring Jack the wrong kind of food instead of having almost-sex with him. But it was probably for the best, she figured.

“Hey, I want her to sit with the guys, okay?” Jack told Slade.

“Yeah, good idea,” Slade replied. “She’s likely to get herself in trouble if we let her loose. I’ll show her where when we walk out.”

“My thoughts exactly.”

“I’m standing right here,” Chrissy pointed out sulkily.

“I can watch her.” Travis waggled his eyebrows.

Both Slade and Jack yelled, “No!” at the same time. Cain smiled, which caught Chrissy off guard. The guy had a beautiful smile; he should smile more often, she thought. Travis held out his hands in surrender.

She heard the emcee call “Jack the Ripper” as they made their way out of the locker room area. She snorted. “And you thought Jack Daniels was silly?” she teased him.

He rolled his eyes. “You don’t learn your lesson easily, do you?”

“I’m trying to rile you up so you’re ready to fight.”

“You’re doing a great job.”

Chrissy followed close behind him as he started making his way to the center of the auditorium. Travis, Slade, and Cain followed. When he was close to the cage he heard her mumble, “Who’d have thought I’d love cage sex this much?”

He leaned toward her and whispered into her ear, “Babe, we haven’t even had sex yet. That was foreplay. When we finally have sex, it’ll be on my bed first, then my table, on the floor, and yes, if you want to, against every wall of my house. And trust me, you won’t care if the entire neighborhood hears you scream my name.” He kissed her cheek and nodded to Slade, who took her hand and led her to a row of seats a few feet away
from the cage. Jack stepped up to the cage, with Cain following closely behind. They walked up to the referee. She sat down, still shuddering at his words—those sexy dirty words—that had come from his lips. Even that innocent peck on the cheek had made her knees weak and her mind fuzzy.

The rounded chain-link steel cage, raised as if it were an altar, looked menacing. The referee checked Jack’s wrapped hands and gave him the okay; then Slade helped Jack put on his gloves, patted him down, and whispered a few things to him. Finally Jack walked through the chain-link door of the cage, which locked behind him with a loud bang that echoed throughout the auditorium.

Oh, my!

She had been so heady with the storage room romp and the last words Jack had said to her that she hadn’t noticed the huge man in black shorts already standing inside. The man, who Chrissy quickly learned from the crowd’s cheers was named Marcus, jumped up and down while moving his neck side to side. The referee called the fighters to the center of the ring. Both men stalked forward, their eyes locked in a death stare, their chests moving in and out in shallow breaths. Marcus’s blue mouthpiece showed through his snarl, and Jack’s nostrils flared. The two-second stare-down made the men look like savages, and Chrissy couldn’t help but shiver. Then the referee said, “Fight,” and the two men touched gloves and backed away. The fight had begun.

Slade, Cain, and Travis stood close to the ring, in what Chrissy assumed was Jack’s corner. Slade seemed to be in charge, because he was yelling things to Jack. The two men circled each other, neither throwing a punch. It looked like a dance. One would extend his arm as if measuring the length of the throw, then pull back. The other would do the same. All the while they circled the ring, their eyes connected to each other’s. The crowd cheered. Chrissy’s leg bounced up and down, and she was chewing on a fingernail. After what seemed like an eternity but was really only about thirty seconds, Jack’s opponent threw a punch with his right hand. Jack quickly leaned back, ducked down, and threw an uppercut, which landed on his opponent’s ribs. Chrissy knew it had landed perfectly by the cheer of the crowd and the pain in Marcus’s face. But the man recovered quickly, and apparently the punch had angered him because he threw another punch, this time with his right hand, and it connected with Jack’s eye. Chrissy gasped and stood up. The crowd went crazy, and Slade yelled into the cage. In the split second it took Jack to recover from the blow, Marcus charged at Jack, but Jack quickly lifted up his knee, which hit the man in the face. The man fell back, and blood spurted everywhere. Chrissy recoiled in alarm. The referee went to Marcus, who was lying on the floor. Travis, Cain, and Slade were talking among themselves, and then Slade yelled something to Jack, who
nodded even though he wasn’t looking at Slade. Marcus got up, his nose bleeding, and the referee stepped aside so that the bout could continue. The moment the referee moved, Jack landed a punch to Marcus’s face and the bell rang.

Just five minutes, and there was blood everywhere. Five minutes was the length of the rounds, and there were three of them. Chrissy felt nauseous. When the men retreated to their respective corners, Slade and Cain went into the cage to tend to Jack. Chrissy ran up to the cage and held on to the fence as she spoke.

“Can I go in? He needs a doctor,” she yelled to her brother.

“This isn’t an ER, Chris. We got this,” Slade said brusquely.

“But—”

“We only have one minute, damn it. Go sit down. Now,” Jack said without looking back at her. She jolted at his tone. His voice, the blood, the violence—the whole thing was bringing back memories she had spent years avoiding. She stepped down but didn’t immediately go back to her seat, instead trying to see what was happening.

Cain applied something to Jack’s face that she deduced was petroleum jelly from the shine and texture. He then pressed an enswell under his eye. The cold metal instrument would help the swelling. It wasn’t the best first aid she’d seen, but it wasn’t bad. Meanwhile, Slade continued to give instructions to Jack while squeezing his biceps and shoulders. The two men left the cage a second before the bell rang again.

Jack was on his toes, seemingly faster and definitely angrier. The same was true for Marcus. It was as if the first round had been a test round, because there was a new resolve on both men’s faces. This time it was Jack who threw the first punch. He missed. It was back and forth for about a minute, neither man landing a punch. Finally Marcus charged Jack. It looked like a rhino charging another rhino. This time Jack hesitated and wasn’t able to connect his knee to Marcus’s face, so Marcus got his arms wrapped around Jack’s body. Marcus lifted Jack in an attempt to throw him to the floor, but with the sweat and blood coating the mat, Marcus’s foot slipped and he fell to one knee, losing his balance. Jack, who seemed to be getting crushed by Marcus’s tight squeeze around his torso, took the opportunity to push back and untangle himself from Marcus, then landed an elbow in the other fighter’s face. Marcus went down flat on his back, and Jack used the walls of the cage as leverage to pin Marcus down and swing his fists left, right, left, right onto Marcus’s gut and face. The crowd roared. Chrissy’s heart raced. Marcus tried to shield his face with his hands, but most of the hits landed and it was a mess of blood and sweat. Jack looked feral; Chrissy had never seen him look more intimidating. The men in Marcus’s corner yelled for him to get up, but as Jack continued to pummel his opponent, the crowd became louder and electric. Then the referee dove in between the
two fighters, using his own body as a shield, to stop the fight.

Travis, Cain, and Slade cheered, and Jack pumped his fists up in the air. His eye was swollen, and blood stained his body. Chrissy wasn’t sure whose blood it was, Marcus’s or his own. Marcus remained on the floor as the ringside paramedics examined him. When he finally stood, the man looked deformed. Both eyes were swollen shut, he had cuts and swelling all over his face, and he held an arm around his waist—probably a broken rib, Chrissy thought. When the referee took both men’s wrists and lifted Jack’s arm, indicating a victory by technical knockout, the crowd went crazy, and so did Jack and his small entourage.

Chrissy’s hands shook. The fierce intensity of the fight, coupled with the exuberance Jack displayed, terrified her. She found the chair she was supposed to be sitting in, and collapsed into it, her body and mind unable to process the totality of the event. She had spent years trying to put Brian and the time of abuse out of her mind, and in less than ten minutes it had all resurfaced. She felt physically ill. Jack had won, but she didn’t care.

By the time she looked up, the rest of the guys had left, Cain had wiped off most of the blood on Jack’s face, and Jack had slipped into a black T-shirt with the name of the Academy emblazed on it. He hopped down from the ring, and as soon as his feet hit the floor, he rushed to Chrissy, grabbed her by the waist, and swung her around. She could tell he was pumped full of adrenaline.

“You did great, Jack.”

“Why do you look like someone killed your puppy?” he asked as they walked hand in hand to the locker room so he could shower and change.

“Sorry, it was a little nerve-racking. The cage, the fighting, the blood … the whole thing. Not only are you the town hero because you’re a cop, but you proved tonight you had the biggest dick in Tarpon Springs by beating the shit out of that guy. Good job.” She couldn’t help the sarcasm; it just slipped out. But Jack, still revved up, seemed oblivious.

Seeing him so violent scared her. She’d never thought Brian would hurt her, and yet he’d beaten her to the point of unconsciousness. Clearly she was a terrible judge of character. She wanted to trust Jack, but, seeing him fight had been a mistake. She didn’t want to rain on his parade, though, so she mustered up the biggest, fakest smile she could manage and said, “Go, take a shower. Then we’ll go celebrate.”

As they drove to the Pier, Jack took call after call from his friends congratulating him. She could tell he was over the moon. But her mind kept wandering to how violent that fight had been and how much he’d seemed to enjoy it.

When they got out of his car, she tried to examine his swollen eye, but he just shooed away her concern and then led her inside the bar. He ordered a pitcher of beer and was quickly engulfed by half the town, greeting him with questions and congratulations.

About an hour later, Slade strolled in to join the gathering. Shortly afterward, Jack’s phone rang, and he excused himself to take the call outside. While he was gone, the bartender, a pretty girl Chrissy’s age with short spiked hair that had red and purple streaks, walked over to take Slade’s drink order. But before Chrissy or Slade could say a word, the girl cocked her head and gazed at Chrissy.

“Is that you, Chrissy Martin?”

“Oh, my! Jamie Lynn?”

“Yes. Wow. It’s been ages. I think I haven’t seen you since high school graduation. I heard you were in town.”

“Word really spreads quickly here, doesn’t it?”

“It sure does.”

“What a small world. I saw your brother Travis just a little while ago.”

“I’m guessing at the fight,” she stated, and Chrissy nodded. “Hey, Slade. How you doing, sugar?” Jamie Lynn said.

“I’m doing good, JL. Hey, cool tat.” He pointed to an intricate tattoo on her forearm.

“Thanks, Slay. Whatcha drinking?”

“Just water.”

Chrissy looked at him questioningly, but Jamie Lynn said simply, “Sure thing, sugar.” As she worked behind the bar she said to Chrissy, “So, how long you in town for?”

“Just a few days,” Chrissy answered.

“You’ll probably see Travis around. He’s working down the street at the diner for a few weeks.”

“Oh, cool. I was just there a few days ago.”

“You should stop by and say hello to him. I’m sure he’d love to see you again.” She leaned closer to her and whispered, “You know, he always did have a crush on you.”