Chapter Five
JAX
WHILE MASON and Tucker keep an eye on the shit stain who thought it was a good idea to pick a fight today, I ensure the girls are safe with their father and Marley’s brother, Gray, before turning my attention to the dumbass standing next to his car like he’s got nothing to lose.
He doesn’t know what he just fucking stepped into.
When he starts to walk down the small incline from the house, Mason barely turns his head in our direction. “I don’t want him down here close to family and guests.”
“Lead the way.” I say, keeping my eyes trained up the hill.
I’m not sure what incenses me the most, his big fucking balls that told him it was okay to show up uninvited, or the swagger as he walks and scans the area like he doesn’t have a care in the world.
Tucker and I walk with Mason to meet him half-way.
Hostility is wrapped around him like a living, breathing thing that reaches out to taunt me like an old friend.
The rage that I keep locked inside like the monster he is, greets his aggressive malice like a lion approaching his prey. His eyes slide to me.
He feels it. Like recognizes like. I hold his stare for a moment. The tiny twitch as he narrows his eyes at me for just a second confirms it before he looks away.
Everything about him is dark, his clothes, his hair, and his eyes that slide lazily across us walking toward him before looking out over the guests like he is looking for someone.
Trying to remember the details of his relationship with Hallie, I was told she put up with him as long as she did out of fear, but the last time he beat her, it was so severe that she was in the hospital.
The police convinced her he would go to jail for a long while and that she was safe to press charges, so she did. That was almost a year ago. Not such a long fucking while, if you ask me.
Scanning his black leather jacket that’s long enough to cover his waist and pockets, and black slacks, I look for any sign of a sidearm and see the bulge of an ankle strap just over his boot and a holster under his arm.
The black Italian leather of his ankle boots tells me he’s not hurting for money, he easily paid a grand or more for them.
I make a mental note to ask Hallie for more information, his confidence and appearance niggles something in my brain that says more than just the low-level drug dealer I envisioned. In fact, he reminds me of the men I was surrounded by in my cousin’s outfit after I came to America.
My uncles dressed similarly, and I can still hear their voices in my head speaking in our native tongue, ‘there is no such thing as the American dream, Branislav, if you want something you have to take it.’
Then, the flutter of a memory of a small hand lying prone on wet cement tries to push itself into my conscious, and I shut it down quick. But not quick enough to stop the familiar surge of adrenaline that’s honed my focus on the fucker in front of me like he’s a big fucking bullseye.
Knowing he’s so close to Marley and her family spikes my anger and I take a deep breath as my heart slows and I relax my body. No one would miss this man, and I would enjoy watching him bleed.
“This is a private event.” Mason says, his voice calm and even as if he were talking into comms.
Memories of my youth and training flood my mind, the way my uncle’s men held themselves with confidence in every situation. The anger and darkness that attached itself to them like a fucking demon, eager to have everything they could get regardless of who they had to hurt, or kill, to get it.
That same energy is standing in front of me.
The asshole focuses on Mason and looks him up and down, like he’s measuring him, and one side of his mouth ticks up. “Nice party, but I’m here to get something that belongs to me.” He slides his hands in his slacks pockets, and my fingers twitch, ready for anything this dick might pull.
The knives in their scabbards under my arms, on my ankles, and on the inside of each forearm are hot against my skin in excitement to come out and play.
From the time we started walking, my father and uncles were teaching me and my cousins to handle knives and throw them. By the time we came to the U.S. we could hit the bullseye nine times out of ten and we could hit a target dead on with a pistol from forty yards.
My finger twitch gets his attention, and he slowly cuts his eyes to me again, looking at my hands before looking up to meet my eyes, I smile and wink at him. The muscle at the corner of his eye ticks.
“There’s nothing here that belongs to you,” Mason says, his hands hang slack at his sides. His specialty on our team is the sniper rifle, but he has some MMA skills that impress even me.
Mason and I have had each other’s six, on and off the job, for over five years.
Before we joined Callum’s team, his Delta Force team, and my DEVGRU team frequently ran training exercises together.
I know his body language as well as he knows mine, and I know he’s ready, if not a little excited, to take this fucker down.
His eyes cut back to Mason, and except for the twitch at the edge of his lips, his countenance doesn’t change. That fact in itself has me scanning the area between us and the road for any backup he may have waiting. The confidence combined with the hostility is a clear sign he feels in control.
That worries me. This fucker is used to getting what he wants, and based on his relationship with Hallie, he doesn’t care who he hurts to get it.
“If you could send Hallie to me, I’ll leave you to your celebration.”
“What do you want with Hallie?” I ask. His eyes slide I my direction, narrowing a little. When I have his full attention, I hold eye contact. Daring him to step out of line.
“She and I have some things to discuss.” He keeps his voice even.
“I’m pretty sure when she had you arrested and then pressed charges, it was a clear sign she was done talking.” Everything about this guy sends my caution for Marley and her family into the red. He breathes malice like oxygen.
If I hadn’t been hyper focused on any type of response, I would have missed the twitch in his upper lip. “Regardless, we still have things to discuss. I’m here to take her home.”
Tilting my head a little, but keeping eye contact, I say, “Hallie lives here.”
For all of five seconds, there is silence as his eyes move to each of us, only pausing long enough to let us know he’s not happy.
“You need to leave. Hallie isn’t going anywhere with you.” Mason sounds calm. I know he doesn’t want this to turn into anything in front of everyone on Sloane’s day.
On the other side of Mason, Tucker speaks up, his voice a growl like his fathers. “As you can see, we have guests, so it would be best for everyone if you leave, the sooner the better.”
His gaze moves over each of us. When he slides his eyes to me, I smile and waggle my eyebrows at him.
A silent challenge to do his worst and a promise that he will deal with me.
I hold his angry stare for moments, before he says, “I see you are busy. I’ll come back another time.
Just know that I will be back.” His eyes slowly move over Mason and Tucker before he turns around and walks to his car.
At the same time that I’m happy he didn’t start any shit today, I’m just as disappointed I didn’t get to show him what I think of women beaters. But I’m a patient man. We watch him drive away, and I turn to Mason. “He’ll be back.”
Mason looks at me, his eyes the same color of blue as Marley’s. “I know. We’ll need to be vigilant. I don’t know what this fucker is capable of.”
Nodding my head, I say, “I’ll do a background check on him, if I need to, I’ll call Spits.”
Spits is our team IT guy, he can find anything at any time.
When I was a kid, I had an uncanny knowledge of computers and fell into the position of helping my uncle out with anything technology related.
Before I ever enlisted in the Navy, I was learning how to hack into most any database in the U.S.
But if I can’t find what I’m looking for, I know Spits can do it.
We call him Spits because he is constantly eating the dill pickle flavored sunflower seeds of the same name. He always has a red plastic cup within arm’s distance to spit his hulls into, we give him shit about it all the time. Mainly because it’s fucking disgusting.
“Do I need to stay longer?” Tucker asks Mason, he’s turned so we are facing each other in a circle, his fingers rhythmically curling into fists before flexing again.
I look over the crowd of people wondering if Mr. Harlow took the girls inside, but I find them close to the barn with Gray, his daughter tucked safely into one side and his girlfriend who I think might be only five feet tall tucked into his other side.
Marley is standing close to her father with her arms crossed over her stomach, a stance she takes when she is worried or afraid, her eyes on us.
Thank fuck she doesn’t stand like that around me anymore.
“I’m staying.” I say with my eyes still on Marley.
“Why?” Tucker immediately barks the question like a demand, and I give him my attention.
He’s looking at me like Gray looked at me when I stood guard outside of Marley’s room after her stable was set on fire and she lost one of her horses.
The company that tried to buy their land last year got pushy and sent someone to intimidate them, it didn’t work out well for him.
Because of the stress from that night, Marley started having nightmares again, the same nightmares she had after she was raped.
There wasn’t anything that could have kept me from that spot. And there isn’t anything that will keep me from this ranch as long as I think there might be a threat to her safety.
Flashing my smile, I say, “Didn’t you hear my speech? I’d do anything for this family. And I love a good, home cooked meal.”
His eyes narrow as he assesses me, and Mason claps him on the shoulder.
“It’s true. He eats more than I do, especially sweets.
Sloane can’t keep the cookies stocked when he’s here.
But, seriously, we don’t know what this guy is planning, it could be days, weeks, or months. I’d feel better with Jax here.”
Something tells me it will be sooner rather than later.
Tucker finally breaks eye contact with me and looks toward the barn at the rest of his family as he slides his hands in his pockets and nods. “We need to have a conversation with Hallie.”