Against the Cage (Worth the Fight #1) (15 page)

“I’ll see what I can do with this broken phone. If not, I’ll just use your house phone.”

“Sleep well, babe.” He leaned in, kissed her again on the cheek, and closed her door.

On the drive home she thought about the kiss that still stung her lips.
Honey. Baby. Babe. What the hell?
She didn’t want to start something that she knew was destined to fail. He lived five hours away from where she was planning on building a life for herself, and there was no way in hell she would stay in town just for a guy. Or would she? He represented everything she didn’t want in a man. Right? He was just a typical horny male. And she … well she was attracted to him. That’s all it was. As she saw it, she had two options. One: stop the flirting. No more touching or kissing. She’d be gone in a few days. Start her job, find a good man, get married, have babies. That was the plan. The sensible plan. The right plan. Well, for all of six hours, she had stuck to that plan and it hadn’t worked. It had been an epic failure. Two: perhaps she could accept that there was an attraction between them. She could have some fun for a few days, and then after Slade’s fight—assuming Slade survived the fight—she’d walk away after having some of the best sex of her life. No feelings hurt. Just sex.

Yeah, right
. She wasn’t that kind of girl. She’d read enough romance novels to know that never worked out. She would be crushed. Okay, she was sticking to the earlier plan. This time she would be stronger. Technically, she hadn’t even broken her first resolution. She hadn’t had sex with Jack. They’d just kissed. A lot! Okay, well more than just kissed, but still, they hadn’t had
sex
sex. So she was sticking to the earlier plan but amending it somewhat.

New plan: no more sex, or almost sex, or kissing, or touching, or fondling of any kind with Jack.

“You listening, libido?” she yelled to herself. “Hands off the beautiful man!”

If only her heart could follow instructions too.

Chrissy wasn’t home when Jack arrived early the next morning. Her car was gone, so he knew she wasn’t with Slade either. He tried calling her, but it went straight to voicemail—he chalked that up to her broken phone. After he’d slept a few hours, he’d go buy her a new phone. She shouldn’t be wandering around in that piece-of-shit car phoneless.

He was bone-tired. It had been a hectic night. After he had said goodnight to Chrissy, he’d received a call about a home invasion. Upon arriving at the scene, he’d discovered that one of the homeowners had been severely beaten by the perpetrator. Dealing with that call had taken up most of his shift.

Now Jack took the fastest albeit most refreshing shower of his life, grabbed a pair of boxers, and threw himself on his bed. He was asleep before his head hit the pillow.

A delicious smell woke him. As he opened his eyes, he realized that it was already dark outside. Barefoot, he padded down to the kitchen to see Chrissy cooking and Slade sitting at the table nursing a beer.

“Hey,” he mumbled in a raspy, sleepy voice.

Slade gave him that chin nod that men often did.

Chrissy peeked out from the kitchen. “I hope we didn’t wake you, sleepyhead.”

She was wearing sneakers, a tank top, and the tiniest shorts he’d ever seen. God, did this woman own anything that wasn’t super-short or tiny? Her toned arms glistened from the heat in the kitchen. Her black hair was loose and hung low to her back. Her black-framed glasses were a little crooked on her face, and she had on an apron that he knew belonged to him but which he never used—it was actually longer than her shorts. God, he loved her legs, especially when they were wrapped around him. Drogo sat on the rug a few feet away from her. The image of Chrissy in his home looking so very domestic and comfortable made him feel all sorts of unusual things that he wasn’t ready to delve into just yet.

He shook his head and took a step toward Drogo. Surprisingly, the dog didn’t move and even seemed to welcome Jack’s approach. His tail wagged slightly, and it
appeared as if he was happy. Jack smiled back. They were having a silent conversation. Jack moved his hand toward the pup, but as soon as his hand made contact with Drogo’s skin, the son of a bitch snapped at him!

“Shit!” Jack jumped back and inspected the two little indentations on his index finger.

“Bad dog, Drogo. Not good. Not good at all,” Chrissy reprimanded him before reaching for Jack’s hand to check on the damage.

“It’s fine. I’m fine. Didn’t break the skin. Shouldn’t have let my guard down. He
is
a quarter pit bull, after all.”

Chrissy rolled her eyes, “Yeah. Look at him. Definitely part pit bull.”

“I can’t remember the last time I slept so much. I slept like twelve hours. It smells delicious, by the way.” He yawned and stretched his arms over his head as he spoke. The stretch caused the waistband of his boxers to move a little bit lower, revealing the mouthwatering vee that peeked out from his shorts. He saw Chrissy’s eyes move down and her lips part. The corner of his lips slowly formed a big toothy smile. Whom was she trying to kid? He knew that she was attracted to him. The openmouthed stare was a clear sign of that attraction. His heart and ego swelled.

“You mind getting dressed while my sister’s here, bro?”

Jack’s eyes snapped to Slade, his words rudely rousing him from his thoughts. Slade must have noticed the silent exchange. Chrissy quickly looked away, embarrassed.

“Sorry. Not used to having guests.” He left, slipped on a T-shirt, and came back down.

“I made a roast and potatoes,” Chrissy said. “Hope you’re hungry.”

“Starved. You didn’t have to cook.”

“I know, but I’m not doing anything else, and it’s really the least I can do.”

“Well, I appreciate it. I don’t know how I’m going to go back to sandwiches and pizza when you leave. And look at my traitorous dog—you’re spoiling him. How is he going to go back to canned dog food?” A pang of emptiness hit him all at once. Chrissy would be leaving soon. Damn. Didn’t that just suck? Maybe he
was
ready to delve deeper.

Slade went to the kitchen and set some glasses and plates on the table. As they sat down to eat, the scene reminded him of their childhood. They used to eat at each other’s homes all the time. It was nice. It was nostalgic.

“Thank you so much for letting me crash here, Jack,” Chrissy said, “but I think I’m going home tonight. Next-door home, not Miami home.”

“Oh. Okay.” He was glad he was eating, because if he hadn’t had food in his
mouth, the disappointment on his face would have been obvious. “Be ready tomorrow at three. I’ll pick you up and we’ll head out together.”

“Sounds good.”

“She’s going to your fight?”

“Yes, I’m going. Why?” Chrissy replied, although Slade was speaking to Jack.

Slade slid his plate back. “So, you only give
me
a hard time?”

“No. I gave him a hard time too, but it’s different.”

“How’s it different, Chris?”

“Well, for starters, you’re my brother.”

Jack flinched at the comment. What that sounded like to him was:
You’re my brother, and I couldn’t care less what happens to Jack because he’s no one important
.

“Second, you’ve had a series of concussions and you could die. Fucking die! Do you understand that, Slade? Die, as in dead! If you get hit hard enough. One blow right here”—she poked his temple—“and I lose the only person left of my family. You may be a jerk, but you are my only family. And your fights aren’t regulated. I’ve been doing research while I’ve been stuck here dealing with your life and waiting to get on with mine. What you do for a living and what Jack does for recreation are sanctioned, and even if I don’t like it, I can respect it. It’s very different from this underground crap you’ve gotten yourself into. The sanctioned fights have certain rules, referees, drug testing, and other important things that ensure some sort of safety. I still don’t like it because it’s fighting and you know how I feel about violence, Slade. God, how could you not understand how I feel about fighting? You—you were there.” Her voice cracked, and she cleared her throat. “Anyway, these underground fights you participate in are dangerous.”

“Then don’t come!” Slade pushed his chair back and stood up. His patience had obviously snapped. Without thinking, Jack also stood and took a step toward Chrissy, shielding her with his body. Slade was normally pretty laid back about almost everything. But when his temper flared, he was dangerous—not that Slade would hurt a woman intentionally, but Jack didn’t want to take a chance. Chrissy was his. “Get out of my way, Daniels. I would never hurt her.” He took a step around Jack. “You don’t understand, Chris. You don’t know what’s going on in my life. You’ve been gone for years—I don’t need you telling me what to do now! You’ve always been do-no-wrong-Christine. You’ve never needed money. Everything in your life is perfect. Well, some of us have to work a little harder at perfection!”

Chrissy pushed Jack out of the way. “You don’t know what you’re talking about, Slade. You know my life hasn’t been perfect by any stretch of the imagination. Far from
it!”

“I know you have issues with fighting, Chris. I get it. But I’m not Brian. Stop comparing me to him.” Slade stormed off, slamming the door. Chrissy followed.

“Brian?” Jack whispered to himself. He contemplated whether to follow them, but decided against it. They needed alone time to figure out their issues.

Not such a pleasant dinner
.

Jack finished his meal and cleaned up. The food had been the best he’d had in a long time—well, since the lasagna the other day. When he was done, he realized how quiet the house seemed without Chrissy. She was constantly causing trouble, filling the air with her teasing and laughter, making his house smell either of food or of her delicious soapy scent. A nuisance, really. But he’d never felt lonelier, and she’d only been gone a few minutes.

Gracelessly he threw himself on the couch and turned on the television. Lost in the voices coming from the television and Drogo’s snoring from the other side of the couch, he barely heard the knock on the door.

He looked at the time; it was close to midnight. Drogo immediately woke up, his tail wagging, and he ran so fast to the door, he slipped on the slick hardwood floor and hit the door with his head. Jack laughed. “Sorry, I don’t feel too bad about that, little dude.”

By the dainty knock he knew who it was before he opened the door, though it wasn’t her usually impatient banging.

“Hi.” Chrissy stood in front of him. Tears were in her eyes, her golden skin glistened from the Florida humidity and heat, and the hair from her bangs stuck to her forehead. He’d never seen anything more beautiful in his life.

“Hi.” He smiled and stepped aside so she could come in.

“Can I stay here?” She had her two bags in her hand.

“Of course.” He grabbed her bags and tossed them by the stairs, then led her by the hand to the couch, and they both sat down to watch television. She slowly made her way closer to him … as did Drogo. It was starting to become clear to Jack that he had competition in the shape of a bug-eyed little dog.

“Can you tell me what happened?” he asked.

“We just fought some more. He refuses to cancel. I feel so guilty. I owe it to him to support him. But, I don’t want him to get injured. I guess I’m going to another fight.”

“I can’t talk you out of it, can I?” Jack asked, already knowing the answer. He hated lying to her, but he couldn’t let her go to Slade’s fight.

She shook her head.

“I know I don’t have siblings, so maybe I’m having issues understanding your
guilt.”

“It’s a long story.”

“I have time.”

She shrugged in defeat, and he moved her closer to him. They stared at the television, not really watching, both lost in their own thoughts.

He tilted her chin up so he could see her clearly. “Who’s Brian?”

She took a deep breath and looked down again. “I haven’t spoken about this since Dad died. I don’t think I want to talk about it.”

“Tell me,” he demanded.

She snuggled even closer. He didn’t think she would answer since she didn’t speak for an eternity, but he held on to the silence, hoping she would break it.

“Fine.” She moved to the other side of the couch and curled her legs under her. She looked helpless and tiny, not words he would normally use to describe Chrissy. In relation to other women, she really wasn’t that tiny, but in comparison to his large frame and that of her brother’s, she was physically very small. However, she had a larger-than-life personality, feisty as all hell.

“Brian is the reason for everything. The reason I left for good. The reason my father died. The reason I feel I owe Slade …” She trailed off. Her expression changed dramatically, hurt written all over her face. “Remember Brian Harris? He used to be on the wrestling team in high school.”

“Of course I remember. Until a recent knee injury, he still fought. He was a boxer, not an MMA fighter.”

“Really? I didn’t know he was still boxing. Does he still live in town? God, does everyone in this damn town fight?”

“Not much else to do, I guess. They breed us in high school, I suppose.” He shrugged. “I know Brian’s parents still live in town, but he doesn’t. I think he lives in Tampa. I heard something about a divorce. Why is he so important?”