Against the Cage (Worth the Fight #1) (23 page)

With the spare key in hand, Chrissy made her way next door, where she was greeted by a cheerful Drogo. She took a minute to pet him and feed him some slices of cheese before she changed into her bathing suit. Once dressed, she locked the front door and exited through the back door to the beach.

Chrissy was so inside her own head, she dove straight into the ocean without much thought. The refreshing salt water against the extreme Florida heat was a good, albeit temporary, escape from the thoughts that were invading her head: Jack, Slade, Jessica, Tarpon Springs, the job that waited for her in Miami …

When she was completely exhausted from the argument, the swimming, and the heat, she threw herself down on the sand. She needed to think. She had definite feelings for Jack, but she knew deep down that the sex and the hot-macho-man demeanor were keeping her from thinking clearly. She had avoided men like Jack for a decade. He’d never given her any inkling that he’d hurt her, but neither had Brian. No, her judgment was definitely off, and seeing Jack so violent when he fought, combined with his near giddiness about having beaten his opponent to a bloody pulp, made her nervous. Very nervous.

After about twenty restless minutes, she walked along the beach back to Slade’s house and went inside for a shower. When she was done with that and her anger had still not subsided, she decided to lie down in her old bedroom with the intention of going to
sleep early, but she was too wound up. She heard Slade come in at some point, so she stomped downstairs to check on him. She needed to make sure that he didn’t have any serious injuries after his fight.

“Let me see you,” Chrissy said, not bothering with much of a bedside manner.

“I’m fine, Chrissy. Really, I am.”

“Just sit, Slade.” He obliged, and she checked him as thoroughly as she could with her limited medical kit. Too bad she didn’t have a CAT scanner that fit in her backpack. A half hour later she was done, and Slade excused himself, saying he was exhausted and needed sleep. She was still too angry to talk, so she just nodded.

Back in her room, Chrissy couldn’t help but think about Jessica. If that asshole Dennis had tried to attack her in a parking lot, how many times had he attacked her in private?

There was so much turmoil going on in Chrissy’s head, between her brother’s problems and Jack’s lie, she couldn’t possibly sleep. She had thought that Jack had wanted some sort of relationship with her, and even though she hadn’t been sure whether she wanted a relationship with him, now she just felt hurt and confused. She couldn’t trust him, and coupled with his tendencies toward violence, there was just no way she could ever be with him. She should have stuck to the plan and gone back to Miami. If she had, she would have avoided all of this drama.

Chrissy thought back on how her life had been eleven years ago. If she’d had someone to talk to, maybe her life would’ve been different. She had always had an overwhelming sense of guilt about not having gone to the police when Brian abused her. She’d always wondered if he’d attacked other women since then.

With that thought, she sprang to her feet, checked up on Slade one final time, and drove off to find Jessica.

The Pier was located a few miles away. Chrissy asked the bouncer by the door for Jessica, and he pointed to a tall, lean brunette standing behind the bar serving drinks to a rowdy group of men. She made her way over and took a seat. It was late and the place would be closing soon. She ordered a glass of red wine from the male bartender, and while she sipped her drink, she took inventory of her surroundings. When she’d been there with Jack, she hadn’t really looked at the place well. But now that she was alone, she was able to take stock. It wasn’t a sordid bar. It looked like a local watering hole, and most of the people seemed to know each other.

She glanced over at the group of raucous men in their mid-twenties on the other side of where she sat. She deduced that they had just come from watching a football game and were drunk. A few of the guys hit on Chrissy, and she smiled but declined all
their offers for drinks or dancing. Jessica made her way to the side of the bar where Chrissy was sitting and asked her if she wanted a refill, to which Chrissy nodded in acceptance. As Jessica was pouring the glass of wine, one of the young guys, the most obnoxious of the bunch, came up behind Chrissy, leaned toward her, and whispered something incoherent into her ear, startling her. He was way too close for comfort, so she shoved him away. “Back off!”

Jessica, who was on the other side of the bar, saw the altercation. “Hey, man! I already told you to leave me and my customers alone.”

“Don’t be a bitch. Just ’cause you won’t give it up doesn’t mean this pretty little lady won’t,” the obnoxious guy yelled at Jessica.

“Hey!” Chrissy stood up and turned around, her back to the bar.

“Don’t be a prick, asshole,” Jessica snapped at the guy from behind Chrissy. That surprised Chrissy—she hadn’t expected a tenacious woman. She had thought she’d find a frail or helpless victim. But why? Why would she have thought Jessica to be anything but strong? Chrissy wasn’t frail or helpless, and yet she had been a victim.

After a lot of mostly slurred and incoherent remarks from the obnoxious guy, the bouncer finally came and escorted him out, earning a round of cheers and applause from nearby patrons. Chrissy sat back down and faced the other woman.

“Sorry ’bout that. Sometimes we get belligerent frat boys who don’t know when to put a cork in it,” said Jessica.

“It’s fine. No worries. Thanks for the help, though.”

“No problem. Here.” Jessica poured her another glass of wine. “Have a drink on the house.”

“Thanks.” Chrissy sat at the bar for another hour or so and noticed how well put together Jessica was, how confident and beautiful. She could see why Slade liked her.

When the crowd had thinned out and Jessica was wiping down the bar area in preparation for closing, Chrissy called her over.

“Another drink, honey?” Jessica asked.

“No. Actually, do you have a minute to talk? In private?”

“Excuse me?” Jessica looked confused.

“My name’s Chrissy. I’m—”

Jessica snapped her fingers and pointed, as if she recognized something. “Slade’s sister. I kept thinking you looked familiar, but I didn’t realize the resemblance until just now. You both have the same eyes.” She smiled at Chrissy, which gave Chrissy a jolt of relief. She had thought that Jessica might refuse to speak with her. “Meet you outside in ten minutes?”

Chrissy nodded. She finished her drink, paid her tab, and waited outside by the bouncer. A few minutes later Jessica walked out. “Come on, honey. My car’s right by the bench. We can talk there and still be close enough to Luis, just in case.” She winked at the bouncer. It was a typical Florida evening, hot and humid. The sky was clear and a full moon decorated the sky beautifully. The two women sat down on the bench, both with a small sheen on their brow from the heat.

“I know why you’re here. You want me to testify against Dennis to help your brother out.”

“I do.”

“I can’t do that. I wish I could, but I can’t. I love Dennis. I don’t want him to go to jail over some stupid jealous fight.”

“But you’re okay with my brother going to jail?” When Jessica didn’t answer, Chrissy continued speaking. “Look, I don’t know you, and it’s not my place, but Slade says Dennis was going to hit you. Sweetie, you have to testify against him. Even if it’s not to help my brother, you have to do it for yourself.”

“No, no, it’s not like that. Dennis never hits me. I mean, Dennis
would
never hit me.” Jessica wiped a drop of sweat from her forehead. “He was just angry. He loves me. I wish I could help Slade. I really do.”

“You can, Jessica. Please. He’s the only family I have. I know what it is to be …” Chrissy paused. Other than Jack and her family, she’d never admitted this to anyone else. “I know what it’s like to be in an abusive relationship.”

Jessica stood up. “Abusive relationship? How dare you? You don’t know me. You don’t know Dennis. He was just mad. I told you, he’d never hit me.”

“Sit, please. I didn’t mean to upset you. I’ve been there. I understand.”

Jessica’s eyes watered. “You don’t know anything. I’m not you. Whatever issue you had has nothing to do with me. Dennis wouldn’t hit me.” But the words didn’t come out quite as firmly as she clearly intended them to.

“Jessica, you have bruises on your wrists. I noticed them when I walked into the bar. I used to—” She stopped as Jessica recoiled and put her hands in her pockets.

“Look, I’ll see what I can do about Slade, but don’t come find me again. Please. Just don’t get involved in my life. Dennis is a good guy. He is.” Jessica backed away from Chrissy, got into her car, and drove off.

Chrissy was left sitting in the parking lot. She wanted to help Jessica but knew that there was nothing else she could do. She walked to her own car and started to head back home. As she drove she replayed the last few days in her head. She had been dumped via text; Slade, who didn’t give a shit about himself or about her, had been
arrested; she’d had mind-blowing sex with Jack, who broke her trust and loved to fight. How could she contemplate anything serious with Jack when he embodied the thing she hated most, violence? Her mind wandered, and she found herself continuing south instead of getting off at the exit for Slade’s house. She was running. Again.

What would staying in town get her? Perhaps more sex. But that would only end with a broken heart. It wasn’t as though Jack had hinted he wanted anything other than sex. And what if he did? What if he asked her to stay? Would she uproot her life once again for a man? A violent man? A violent, lying man?

And then there was Slade. After all these years, he had yet to forgive her for the loss of their father. How long would she have to bear the brunt of the guilt? A lifetime, she supposed. Well, writing a check from Miami would be easier than having to look into his accusatory eyes.

“It’s noon. How could she still be sleeping? Her car’s not even here,” Jack said from Slade’s doorway.

“It’s not? Hmm.” With a steaming hot cup of coffee in hand, Slade glanced over Jack’s shoulder to the driveway.

“What’s the ‘hmm’ for?”

“She checked in on me a few times last night. I think she stopped around one in the morning. I just assumed she’d gone to sleep.”

Jack pushed Slade aside and took the stairs two at a time, with Drogo following. When he reached the door to Chrissy’s room he swung it open, not even bothering to knock. Her bed had been used, so at some point she must have been there. Where the hell was she? He pulled his cell phone out and dialed, but it went straight to her voicemail.

He left a message: “Hey, it’s me. I know you’re still mad but where are you? We need to talk. Call me.”

“She probably just went to get some breakfast. Relax. And get your mean-ass dog outta my house. Tell it to stop growling at me. Heel. Stay. Sit.” Slade was barking out commands to Drogo, who just continued growling.

“He only listens to your sister. I think he’s in love with her.”
That makes two of us
. “You’re right, she probably just went to get coffee or something. Anyway, I got called in to work. Have her call me when she gets home.”

“Why?”

“Why what?” Jack asked, confused.

“Why should she call you? Is there something going on between the two of you that I should know about? She was just supposed to be staying in your house because she was mad at me.” His voice dropped to a menacing growl and he took a step toward Jack. “Nothing better be going on between you and my baby sister, Daniels.”

Jack laughed incredulously. “So now you’re the tough guy looking after your little sister?”

“What the hell’s that supposed to mean?”

Jack’s phone rang, and he saw it was the chief calling. “You know exactly what that’s supposed to mean. Listen, I gotta go. We’ll talk later.”

Jack stomped out and slammed the door behind him before Slade could say anything further.

“Daniels,” he answered his phone.

“The victim in Martin’s case came forward and told us what really went down. Looks like your buddy’s getting off the hook.”

“That’s great news. I’m on my way.”

“There’s more to the story. I’ll explain when you get here. Don’t say anything to your buddy just yet.”

Ten minutes later Jack was walking into the chief’s office.

“Sit.” Chief Lyon pointed to the chair in front of his desk.

“What’s going on? I was supposed to be off today.”

The chief stood up, closed the door behind Jack, and leaned against his desk. His shirt was untucked, his hair disheveled, and there was a coffee stain on his khaki pants. He had his arms crossed over his big beer belly.

“The victim, Jessica Cross, came in early this morning badly beaten. She’s at the hospital.”

“What?”

“She came in here crying and asked to speak to you personally. She said she needed someone she could trust, and since she knew you were Slade’s friend, she figured you wouldn’t take the mayor’s side. But since you weren’t here, I was able to convince her to talk to me. Apparently after work last night, she tried to convince Dennis to drop the charges against Martin, and Dennis beat the shit out of her. I don’t know the entire story, because she was too banged up to explain.