Against the Cage (Worth the Fight #1) (5 page)

“Never take those off. You’re a fantasy, you know that? This right here is a fantasy,” he said, pointing at her.

“Oh, you’re into the whole doctor thing, aren’t you?” That made his imagination soar. Scratch the whole naughty-librarian thing. She was a naughty doctor. He could certainly work with that. In the span of an hour, he had managed to conjure up all sorts of role-play scenarios: nurse, librarian, doctor. What the hell had gotten into him?

“No, baby, I’m into the whole sexy-Chrissy thing.” He wrapped an arm around her small waist, pulled her close to him, and began to plant openmouthed kisses along her neck.

“I need to concentrate and you need to sit up. You’re being a very bad patient. I
can’t get to your hip if you’re bent forward.” She pouted and moved back a little, but with a mischievous little wink. Oh, she was playing his game, and he was going to enjoy every second of it.

“Sorry, Doc. It just hurts so much. Maybe you can kiss it and make it better,” Jack whined.

Even though she was going along with the game, she continued to work diligently on his wound. “Oh, poor baby. Where does it hurt?”

He waggled his eyebrows up and down and slowly dropped his gaze to between his legs. She laughed out loud.

“Well, as soon as I’m done fixing this”—she pointed to his hip—“maybe I’ll kiss that.” And she pointed to his throbbing erection.

Suddenly she was all business again. She pushed him back against the chair and started rubbing alcohol on his open wound. “Fuck. That shit really stings,” he protested.

“Oh, don’t be such a baby.” As she kept probing and prodding, he winced and clenched his teeth. “So, you didn’t tell me how this happened.”

“Are you trying to make me forget that you’re inflicting major pain on me right now?” He flinched again when she rubbed something else on the cut.

“Nope. I tried to do that with the flirting. Now I’m just really curious.”

“Last week I was arresting a drunk driver, and he fought back with a broken bottle. I let my guard down because he was so drunk. I should’ve been more alert. It was my fault.”

“You get injured a lot on the job?” she asked, concerned.

“Not really. It was a rookie mistake.”

“And you’ve been bleeding for a week and haven’t gotten it checked out?”

“No. It was almost healed, but at last night’s fight I got kicked, and the wound reopened. I bandaged it up myself.” If Jack had wanted to get Chrissy’s full attention, he’d just figured it out, because she stopped cold.

“Fight?”

“Yes. The card Slade and I were headlining last night.”

“You mean you fight too?”

“Yeah, of course. You knew that, though. Remember the sandwiches? We talked about this.”

“That was a million years ago. I thought you’d grown up. You got a real job. You’re a cop, for Christ’s sake. What are you doing fighting?” As she spoke, she continued meticulously working on his cut. She pressed the gauze against the wound forcefully this time.

“Hey, don’t take out your anger on my injury. You think you could be a little bit gentler?” Clearly she couldn’t, because he had to bite his tongue at the pain she was inflicting.

“So, you’re a cop by day and a boxer by night? I don’t understand.”

“No, I’m a cop all the time—night and day. And I’m not a boxer. Heard of MMA? Mixed martial arts? It’s sort of like a super-f-contact sport. It’s boxing, judo, kickboxing, and jiujitsu, all in one. When I’m not working I train, and a few times a year I fight. It’s a hobby that pays very well when I win. I love it, and I’m good at it.”

She snorted. “Clearly.”

“Your sarcasm is duly noted.” He grimaced as she kept working on him. “Injuries are normal in my line of work—and when I fight. I’ve had far worse. And Slade … that guy’s probably had most of the bones in his body broken at one point or another.”

“You say it like that’s a good thing.”

“No, it’s not a good thing, but it’s not a bad thing either. It’s what we do. It’s what we’ve always done. I do it for fun. Your brother does it for a living. He’s a professional MMA fighter. I thought you knew that.”

“Of course I knew that, but I never really saw you guys fight. I tried to sneak into some of those backyard matches, but you always took me home before I got to see anything. By the time Slade went pro, I was already out of town. And I always just assumed that once you became a cop you stopped fighting. I just don’t understand it. It’s so violent. And a lot of good it’s done—I have to bail him out of jail tomorrow, remember? Remind me, what was he charged with again?”

He didn’t answer, and she finished bandaging him up in relative silence. “You need to change the dressing every day. You should’ve gotten stitches. It’ll leave a scar. But …” She let out a gush of air. “You’ll probably love the scar. You can brag about it with the guys,” she said as she began putting away all her things. “And the groupies who love an ass-kicking brawler.”

Jack stood and helped her pack up. At the same time, Drogo began to bark. “Your brother didn’t do anything wrong last night. I had already left before it happened, but I know him better than anyone. I know he had a good reason. I was going to talk to Chief Lyon tomorrow to have him released.”

“Why didn’t you get him released today? It would have saved us all this aggravation. I wouldn’t have had to come here and we wouldn’t be fighting right now.” Chrissy looked down. “Drogo, hush!” she said sternly. The dog quieted.

Jack scowled, both at Chrissy’s comment and at Drogo’s disloyalty. He pulled her toward him and crouched down to meet her gaze. “First of all, I didn’t know he’d call
you. Normally he calls me—”

“Normally? This happens often?”

“Can you just listen for once?” He clasped her lips shut with his thumb and index finger. “Second, the fight wasn’t during our match. It happened afterward. It’s a long story, one that I prefer he tell you, but suffice it to say it was over a girl. I thought he should stay locked up for a day to cool off. And lastly, I couldn’t be fucking happier that you’re here. So I’m not sorry he called you.”

“I hate that my brother is a professional fighter. I hate violence. I took an oath to help people, and you two idiots are getting yourselves beaten to a bloody pulp—my brother professionally, and you for what? Fun?” She was yelling now. “And I hate performing these stupidectomies. I—”

“What did you say?”

“Stupidectomies. That’s what I call it when I have to bandage up someone for doing something stupid. And what you do—your fighting—it’s stupid! Maybe even stupider than Slade’s, because you do it for pleasure!”

“I didn’t get hurt in the fight. I got cut while working. And let me stop you before you start your rant on my job. Sometimes I get injured at work. It’s par for the course with being a cop. I’m good at my job, Chris, but shit happens. Either way, I guess it doesn’t matter—apparently I’m just stupid. Thanks for putting down the one thing I enjoy doing apart from work. I suppose some things really haven’t changed. You’re still a self-righteous bi—” He saw her flinch just as the word was about to come out of his mouth, and he stopped himself, but it was too late.

“Bitch? Just say it. Don’t worry, I’ve heard far worse. I’m a big girl, I can handle it.” Drogo jumped up and down, barking, to join in the melee. Chrissy threw her bag over her shoulder, stepped over the yapping dog, and pushed Jack aside. Right before she reached the door she yelled, “By the way, you’re still an ass, Jack Daniels!” She stomped out of the house, slamming the door behind her.

When she reached her house she noticed he was right on her heels, sans Drogo. “What are you doing? Go back home. Tend to your Chihuahua. Pit bull? Pfft! You’re delusional!” She was on a tear. “I hope you don’t think that we’re still going to, you know …”

She shoved the door open, but he remained right behind her.

“What? Fuck? You can say the word—you’re a big girl, right? Yeah, we’re still going to fuck. But not tonight. Tonight I just wanted to make sure you were in the house safely.”

“We?” Indignant, she whipped around to face him. “You and I are never going to
happen. There is no
we
. I don’t date or screw bad boys. I don’t do one-night stands. And I hate violent men. Forget it happened. It was a colossal mistake. You were a jerk while we were growing up, and I will never forget that. What just happened was a momentary lapse of judgment. Last I recall, you hated me. I was just Slade’s annoying little sister.”

All of a sudden he was unsure whether he wanted to shake her or throw her down and have his way with her right there on the floor just to shut her up. He decided neither was such a good option at the moment. “When you’ve calmed down, I’m going to bend you over that couch right there.” He forcefully turned her around so she could see the couch and whispered into her ear. “I’m going to rip off those tiny little things you call panties with my teeth, lick your pussy from behind, and then when you’re good and ready, I’m going to fuck you so hard you won’t remember the Hippocratic oath.” Her chest rose and fell. Still standing right behind her, he nipped her neck and kissed right behind her ear. He knew she was turned on, but he also knew that if they slept together tonight it would be out of anger and it would happen only once. And once with this firecracker of a woman would never be enough. He turned and left, slamming the door behind him.

After a sleepless night of tossing and turning, Chrissy put on a conservative black pantsuit, slicked her hair back and tied it into a tight bun, applied very little makeup, and headed to court. The previous evening she had called Mr. Robertson, the only bail bondsman in town, and hired him. He was already there waiting for her.

“Little Chrissy Martin! It’s been a helluva long time since you’ve been back. Sorry your brother’s troubles are the reason for your return. We’ve missed ya ’round here. You always were a ray of sunshine.”

Chrissy smiled. Before she’d left for college, before all the crap that had made her a cynical mess, she really had had a sunny disposition. She’d volunteered at the neighborhood animal shelter, babysat some of the local kids, and was always friendly with the townsfolk.

“Ya know, I was surprised when you called. There was a time when your brother used to keep me mighty busy. Disorderly conduct, public intoxication, bar fights … ya know, the usual.”

Chrissy sighed. “How long has it been since his last arrest?”

“I reckon it’s been about a year or so.”

Well, at least that was something. During the last year he had either matured and stopped his shenanigans or just hadn’t been caught. She hoped it was the former but expected that it was the latter.

Mr. Robertson explained the process, and then they sat and waited for Slade’s case to be called. She noticed Jack walk in, wearing civilian clothes, and sit a few seats back. He didn’t make eye contact with her. When Slade’s case was called, the judge said a few things, then the court-appointed attorney said a few things, and in a few minutes, before Chrissy even thought it had begun, it was all over.

“Okay, honey. Did you understand all that?” Mr. Robertson asked her. She shook her head. From the corner of her eyes, she noticed Jack was now standing right behind her.

“Since this was not his first or even second offense, and because the alleged victim is the mayor’s nephew, bail is thirty thousand dollars. I provide a bond for that amount, and you pay me a ten percent fee—three thousand dollars.”

“Wait, what? Isn’t thirty thousand dollars for bail excessive?” asked Chrissy.

Chrissy felt Jack’s hand resting on the small of her back. She knew he was supporting her, physically and emotionally. He bent down and whispered, “The guy deserved to be punched in the face, Chris, but he’s still the mayor’s nephew and this is a small town. Don’t worry. I’ll do everything I can to get the charges dropped.” She looked up at him, pushing her glasses up her nose, and he smiled reassuringly. “Don’t worry. It’s going to be fine.”

“Come on, honey. This way.” The bondsman led them through a set of doors and down a corridor to a counter where Chrissy would have to write a check and fill out paperwork.

“Well, look who’s back in town! The big fancy doctor!” Melinda, a thin woman in her early forties, came around the counter and gave Chrissy a big hug.

“Hey, Mels. It’s been a long time. How have you been?”

“Not as good as you, honey. Look at you with your swanky clothes and shiny hair. You look good.”

“Oh, thanks.” Chrissy blushed. She wasn’t in the mood for small talk, but Melinda had always been very chatty. Actually, now that she thought about it, the entire town was very chatty.

“You know, my brother Miles just got divorced. Remember Miles? He’s a doctor too. A chiropractor. You should come over and meet him. How about tomo—”

“Hey, Mels,” Jack interjected, “Chrissy hasn’t had such a great morning. Ya think she can take a rain check on the matchmaking? I’m sure she’ll call you soon enough to
discuss it further.” Chrissy had the impulse to reach over and hug him, but she didn’t want to be rude. She remembered Miles, even though he was about ten years older; everyone knew about his reputation for hitting on all things female. He wasn’t a bad guy, just a little too old and a little too creepy for her taste.