Chapter 4 #2
He’ll be blue next, then ashen.
“You... fucking... idiot...” he chokes out.
Leilani gasps, equal parts fear and alarm. My grip tightens. I feel Jax’s tendons straining beneath my fingers, the fragile column of bones begging to be crushed.
“Pack a bag,” I tell her, upping the pressure on Jax’s neck.
He claws at my wrist, tries swinging at my face, but he can’t reach, and I don’t budge. He fights harder, depleting his energy levels faster than the oxygen leaves his lungs. He’s gulping for air, nails biting into my skin.
I barely feel it... I want him dead.
God, I want it.
I could end him. It wouldn’t take much effort to snap his windpipe. I could fucking do it. I’ve done it before. I could close my fist, jerk my hand...
Can’t kill him, remember? the idiotic voice of reason chants in my head. Can’t kill him. Not yet. He’s still useful.
I grit my teeth, every ounce of willpower funneled into restraining myself. Then I shove Jax down so hard he folds, wheezing like he’s been underwater so long he nearly didn’t get another breath.
Come to think of it, that’s pretty accurate.
I step into the room, shutting the door with my foot. “Not so fun against someone bigger, huh?” I grit out, my eyes raking briefly over Leilani. “I said pack a bag.”
She flinches, staring at me like I’m here to finish what Jax started.
Abort, abort. Wrong tone, dipshit.
“What...?” she stammers. “Why?”
I drag in a breath, tempering the adrenaline rushing through me to soften my tone. “You’re coming with me, love. Pack your things.”
That British chick did a number on you. Real Casanova shit.
“No,” Jax rasps, his voice like sandpaper. He hauls himself up and shuffles left to shield her. “No, you can’t—”
“You better shut the fuck up.”
He clenches his teeth, fingers twitching toward the gun at his hip. I’m faster. My Glock is out, the barrel denting his forehead before he draws.
“Nah, ah, ah,” I chirp. “Don’t do anything stupid. I don’t want to kill you,” I scoff, amusement tugging my lips. “Well, that’s a lie, isn’t it? Of course I want to kill you. I can’t, but I will if you force my hand. I should kill you for putting yours on her—”
“I didn’t!” he snarls, both hands rising to signal defeat. “Let’s just calm down alright? You don’t understand—”
“Don’t lie. She didn’t bruise herself. You did that.”
I cut back to Leilani who hasn’t moved from the spot, still shaking, doe eyes flicking between us.
“Hey, you’re fine. You’re safe.” I push the barrel further into Jax’s skin. “He’s not touching you again. Go grab your things.”
A broken whimper leaves her. “But—”
“Oh please!” Jax groans, rolling his eyes. “She’s playing you, man. Don’t fucking fall for it.”
“Shut up!” Leilani yells, making a weak attempt at throwing the wine glass. “Please, I...” she chokes, tears wetting her eyelashes. “I don’t want to be here, I—”
My grip on the gun falters for half a second while my body’s begging to wrap her in my arms.
“Koby!” Jax snaps. “You have no idea what you’re doing. You think you’re saving her? Listen to me. If you take her—”
I’ve had enough of his bullshit.
I slam my gun against his skull and he drops into an unconscious heap. The pressure point on the temple never fails to bring even the biggest men to their knees.
Thank you, Broadway.
He showed me that spot years ago. His mother knew all about pressure points. Not just those that help you relax, but also those that can leave someone comatose, paralyzed, or even dead if pressed with enough force.
Handy knowledge, I admit.
Leilani backs further into the wall. We don’t have long before Jax wakes up. Ideally, we should be on the road, heading for the safe house when it happens.
And I still need to swing by Carter’s.
This little conundrum will take some explaining. Hopefully, once he sees his sister’s best friend sporting a bruise the size of Jax’s palm on her face, he’ll be on my side. He might even use it to his advantage when negotiating with Blaze.
I cross the room, watching Leilani for any signs of fear. Scared people lash out. While I can’t imagine she has a violent bone in her body, she did Jax’s face some damage, so... caution.
“What did he do to you?” I ask.
What scared such a sweet, pliant girl enough to fight a losing battle?
She’s tiny. Two heads shorter than me, petite, dainty.
.. She must’ve taken him by surprise, caught him off guard.
I doubt she got her hands on him. The scratches running across his face are probably the result of a wine glass shattering against his cheekbone.
“He...” She pauses, blinking fresh tears away. “He—”
“It’s okay. He won’t hurt you again. And I sure as fuck won’t, so please, grab your things, okay? I’m taking you somewhere safe.”
She visibly sags. I don’t know if she suddenly trusts me or thinks I’m the lesser evil, but she’s coming willingly. Relief is written all over her pretty face.
I raise my hand slowly, giving her ample time to rear back. She doesn’t, but those big brown eyes stare at me like she’s trying to read my intentions.
My knuckles brush her injured cheek, the warmth of her skin seeping into me. Barbed wire cinches my stomach so hard it’ll take days to unwind.
She exhales, leaning a fraction closer. Not much, but enough to fucking wreck me.
“He’ll pay for this,” I say quietly. “That’s a promise.”
She softens under my touch and for one blissful moment the world tilts on its axis.
“My bag’s packed. I never unpacked it.”
“Good. Let’s go before Jax wakes up.”
Another nod as she peels herself from the wall... and something in my chest finally settles.