35. Jax
jax
What a shithole. I glance around the abandoned hotel building, at least, it looked abandoned, and cover my nose for a minute, trying to save myself from the rotten stench.
We are on the edge of Denver, in an area I never want to return to in my life, looking for the address that Mitch’s contact gave us. I still have no clue who Mitch talked with, but I don’t care. I am ready to find our piece of shit father, lay it out for him, and be done with all of this.
“What are you going to say?” Mitch asks, talking for the first time since we left the ranch. Neither one of us looks like we fit in this area. Our cowboy hats, canvas coats, jeans, and boots don’t exactly scream city boys.
“To get the hell out of my life,” I reply, still not completely sure what I am going to say. All I know is that I have two people who are counting on me to be there for them, and bringing unwanted people into their lives isn’t what they need.
“I highly doubt that he’s gonna listen to that, Jax,” Mitch says as we reach the elevator. I stare at the out-of-order sign and sigh, looking toward the start of the staircase. “Floor six,” Mitch says as we start on the stairs.
They creak underfoot, and when we get to the first one, there are sounds coming from behind the hotel doors. I’m grateful no one is lingering in the halls, asking questions. I want to get in, say my piece, and get out.
“I have to try,” is all I can say in return, focusing on one step at a time. The smell is still horrible and gradually changes from one horrific smell to another as we land on each floor.
Finally, at the sixth, there is a long hallway that stretches about a hundred feet, and I look for the right hotel number. I am shocked a place like this has anything on file at all.
Finding it, I take a breath and refuse to look at my brother, who is acting as my bodyguard, having my back as I reach up and knock on the door.
A coughing sound comes from the other side, along with several voices, and I brace myself for meeting his familiar face.
Instead, I come face-to-face with the guy who took the lead on beating the shit out of me a few months ago. He gives me a nod, looking at Mitch with obvious concern.
I can’t really say I blame him. Mitch is the biggest out of us four boys and can knock you out with one punch.
Suddenly, I am actually grateful for my brother’s backup. Not that I will tell him that.
“Keith, you have visitors,” the guy announces, opening the door, making it clear we are welcome into the apartment.
I don’t step inside.
I did that once. I allowed myself to get comfortable around my biological father. I let myself think that we were turning over a new leaf. Instead, I got hooked on shit I wish I’d never touched and nearly got caught under the wheels of my father’s machine.
Keith comes to the door, looking worse for wear. He’s aged since I last saw him months ago, and I have a feeling it has something to do with the drugs he let himself sample.
His eyes widen as he takes in Mitch, not surprised to see me then before he puts on a fake smile for the both of us. “Well, if it isn’t my boys.” He holds an arm up in gesture, and I keep my hands down at my sides, refusing to fall into any trap.
Felicity and our son are my future. Not this piece of shit. Never him.
“I didn’t expect to see you.” He leans against the doorjamb, maybe sensing that we aren’t here for a friendly visit. His eyes are on Mitch, looking him up and down. “You sure are a big fucker. Get that from your mom’s dad. He was a scary son of a bitch, that’s for sure.”
I’m sure Mitch is thrilled to know that he’s being compared to our mother’s side of the family and not the man in front of us.
Keith’s eyes move toward me, and he gives me a smile. “Jax, my boy! Finally back for some work?”
He lifts a cigarette to his mouth, digging into his pocket for a lighter before lifting it and lighting the cigarette, blowing out a breath of smoke. I can tell he’s trying to get a reaction from me, but I hold firm.
“No. I’m here to tell you that you need to stay away from me.” I level him with a look, trying to convey how serious I am. “You have your money, more than what I owed you.”
“Ah.” Keith nods his head, and I watch him take another drag of the cigarette. Over his shoulder, I spot a woman on the couch, her clothes leaving nothing to the imagination, and her age…Well, I’d be surprised if she is older than I am.
My father is a good-looking guy — when he isn’t completely fucking strung out.
Not only that, but he has a way about him that drags you down with him, whether you want to go or not.
It was a miracle that my mom got out when she could, that she finally knew when enough was enough and wouldn’t let him around us anymore.
She would be ashamed if she knew that I’d let him get to me, which was why I don’t want her to know.
“See, the thing about that is, once you know all my little secrets,” Keith looks at me, a glint in his eye showing a danger that I don’t like. “There is no getting out.”
“Jax is done, Keith. So say goodbye, because this is the last you’ll ever see of him.” Mitch’s voice shatters the tension our father builds, and I hate myself for it, but I’m grateful he’s here to help.
Keith laughs, the sound grating. “You think so, boy?” He pulls in another drag. “’Cause from what I figure, he owes me six grand.”
I frown at him, scoffing. “Six grand? You’re delusional. I’ve never taken anything that is worth six grand.”
His eyes widen, and he stands up straight, pretending that he’s thinking through it.
“Well, see, there’s labor costs, delivery, interest on payments not made.
The list goes on.” He tilts his head, his hawk eyes watching me carefully.
“It’s not cheap to send my boys out to find you, you know. That’s another expense.”
My eyebrows drop over my eyes, and I lean forward, my anger pulsing under my skin. “I paid. Every penny.”
Suddenly, he moves. Moving faster than any man who takes as many drugs as he does should and pins me against the wall.
He is a strong guy, but not as strong as I am.
I shove him back, and before I can get in the swing that I planned, Mitch is there, throwing his fist into Keith’s face and breaking his nose.
His guy who answered the door comes rushing out, going after Mitch, but with a few planned moves, Mitch has the guy pinned to the floor, unable to move. “Don’t move, fucker.”
Blood drips from Keith’s face, and I turn to look at him, shaking my head. “Don’t fucking talk to me ever again.”
He glares at me, anger pulsing through him, making his face bright red. I turn to walk away, Mitch on my heels, when he yells, “I know who you’re with, you son of a bitch! I know what she’s worth. I’ll get mine.”
I start to turn around, ready to go back and get in the punch that he deserves, when Mitch spins me around, pushing me to leave. “He’s not worth it. We’ll protect her.”
I let him move me out of the building, my adrenaline coursing through me at a rate that feels alarming. I’ve had this feeling before. Being a bullfighter and professional rodeo clown is fairly adrenaline-inducing.
But I’ve never felt it with anger attached, and I didn’t know what to do with it.
“Your phone is ringing,” Mitch says, nodding to the phone I left in my cup holder.
I grab it, read the texts from Thea, and curse. “We need to get to the hospital.”
I crank my engine, pulling out of the shitty hotel’s parking lot, and head to the one place I need to be.