29. Jake
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
jake
T his night has gone from bad to worse. I had every intention of following Amber on her date, not a care in the world to how either of them would feel about it.
I was going to sit near them and make sure they were aware of my presence, but then my mom called, and I missed Amber leaving.
Her car never left, but Natasha’s did, so I knew she had to be within walking distance.
The two bars were the first places I checked.
I had no luck at Loggers, but I saw her beautiful figure the moment I stepped into The Burnt Barrel.
Even from the back, sitting in a corner, I would know her anywhere.
Anger poured off me seeing them together, with his hand on her wrist. I was making my way over to them when she stood and walked straight for the door.
My feet were following her before I could register what was happening.
Kyle was hot on her heels, and for a moment, I thought they might be leaving together, until I stepped outside and heard the words come out of his mouth.
My hands clenched at my sides, trying to hold back, but when Amber’s voice shook as she asked him to let go, I lost it.
“She said let go.” My hand easily wraps around his throat, and I squeeze past the point of pain, not letting up until his grip loosens and Amber steps back. It isn’t enough, so I pick him up by his throat until his toes barely graze the cement.
“Nice guys don’t talk to women like that, and they certainly don’t lay hands on them when one says no.” My voice comes out low and deadly. I may not have saved my friend in college, but I will die before anyone puts their hands on Amber again. “Apologize.”
His feet are kicking, trying to gain purchase, and his hands are scratching at my arm to make me break my hold. Pathetic. When he makes no move to say anything, I slam him into the concrete wall of the bar. “I said apologize.”
Soft hands wrap around my bicep. “Jake, don’t. It’s okay. He’s not worth it.” Her eyes are red and her lip quivers like she’s holding back tears, and my rage hits an all-time high.
“He’s not. But you are.”
Amber’s eyes pierce mine, and she steps back, so I let my fist fly.
Blood sprays from his nose, the crimson color bringing a smile to my face.
It’s my new favorite, after all. We struggle when he lunges for me, but I invite the fight.
He gets in one decent punch before I hit him again, splitting his lip and my knuckles as I rain down blow after blow.
With a punch to his kidneys, he slumps to the ground, but I follow him down. He deserves to suffer.
I will feel this in my hand tomorrow, but I won’t regret it. With a satisfying crunch, I hit him again. There’s a voice in the back of my head telling me to cool it, but I can’t. He had his hands on Amber. No one hurts my girl.
I feel hands pulling at me, and when I realize Kyle is a limp form beneath me, I let them drag me off.
The random bystanders look from me to Kyle, but I pay them no mind.
Turning, I immediately seek out Amber. She’s only a few feet away, hand to her mouth and glassy eyes barely holding back tears.
“Leave him,” I say to the guys leaning over the knocked-out douche, then take my girl’s hand and lead her over to my bike.
They don’t try to stop me. The cops know where to find me if he comes to and tattles.
Small town and all, and it’s not like I’m new to fighting.
As soon as we get to my bike, I pull her into my chest. She’s shaking, and her tears soak my shirt. I wrap one hand around her back and spear the other through her soft blonde hair, holding her tight to me. “Are you okay?” Her head nods against my chest, but it feels wooden.
I’m not okay. My heart is racing, and anger is flowing hot through my veins.
He landed a decent punch, and I can feel the cut inside my cheek where he clocked me.
It’s the least I’ve been hurt from a fight in a long time, and I would laugh at the wimp he ended up being if I wasn’t so furious.
He put his hands on my girl, and that won’t stand.
No matter the outcome from here, I’m finding him again.
Pushing her from my embrace, I use my thumbs to wipe her tears, but it only smears some of the blood from my hands on her.
Fuck. I grab the bottom of my shirt and clean her up while she stares at me in a daze, then slip my helmet over her head.
It’s a short ride, but I’m taking her home.
I slide my leg over my bike, then grab her hand to help her get on behind me.
A flash of pink panties has my gut clenching when her legs wrap around mine, and she giggles. It’s such a bittersweet sound after hearing her scared and dejected voice a moment ago. If I think about what he said to her anymore, I’ll go back and finish the job.
“What are you laughing about?” I ask, grazing my hands down her thighs to her knees and drawing her flush against my back.
“This is exactly what Natasha wanted. She said my outfit was perfect for the back of your bike, and now here I am.” There’s mirth in her tone, but it turns quiet again. “Did I cause that?”
I don’t like the wavering in her voice or the insecurity he put there. She didn’t do a damn thing wrong except give the wrong guy a chance. I want her laughter again or the anger she should be feeling.
After sliding my phone from my pocket, I open the camera while hooking two fingers under her helmet and angling her head to snap a selfie of us. “She deserves photo proof for picking that outfit for me. You look stunning in it.”
She snatches my phone from my hand to get a better look at the picture. “There’s blood on your face. You know what, leave it. She’ll love it. Now take me home, big guy, before you get arrested.”
That, I will happily do. Her hands squeeze tight around my stomach when I start the bike.
She giggles again, snuggling impossibly closer as the bike rumbles to life beneath us, and I can’t hold back my cheesy grin.
I’m careful navigating us out of the parking lot but speed up a little, and we fly down Main Street back to her place.
Thank God it’s such a short ride. My knuckles are swelling by the time I park behind her apartment.
She hops off easily, pulling my helmet from her head to reveal a dazzling smile. “That was fun. Can you take me on a real ride some time?”
Hell, if all it took was a two-minute ride on a Harley to have her forget about her night, I can’t imagine the joy an afternoon ride through the mountains will bring her. “Anytime, Whiskey.”
My leg swings over the bike, and I pluck the helmet from her and follow her up the stairs. “Where do you think you’re going?” Amber asks without turning around.
“If you think I’m leaving you alone tonight after that, you’re dead wrong. And you owe me frozen broccoli or something for my knuckles. Anything but nut peas, really. ”
She huffs another small laugh as we ascend the stairs, and I feel like I’m on cloud nine.
If I can bring a smile to her face this many times after her night, there’s nothing I can’t do.
When we get into her place, she dumps her purse and shoes and heads for the freezer while I kick off my boots and go in search of my buddy.
His tinkling collar gives him away when he tries to attack my feet from under the couch.
Cute little fucker. I let the fingers of my left hand trail along the bottom edge so he can bat at them.
“Let me see,” Amber says, grabbing my right hand and sitting next to me. “Shit, Jake. This might be broken.”
I look down at my swollen knuckles, flexing them slowly. The tears in my skin stretch and bleed further when I close my fist, but nothing feels broken. It will, however, be a bitch to work with the next few days. “Nah, just a little tattered.”
Her delicate hands wipe the blood clear with a damp paper towel, then she places a bag of peas over top. When I give her an accusing look, she rolls her eyes and smacks my chest. “These have not been placed on any nuts. I bought them last week to make stir fry.”
My mind can’t fully focus on what she’s saying because all I can do is check over every inch of her to ensure she’s okay.
I’m cataloging every little thing about her.
The way her curly hair looks freshly fucked from my helmet, her makeup lightly smudged where I tried to wipe her tears, the little freckles dotted over her nose, and the tiny gold ring she has there instead of her usual stud. She’s so beautiful it hurts.
“I’m sorry,” she whispers, avoiding looking at me.
“For what?”
“Agreeing to go out with him. Not seeing earlier there was nothing between him and me. Hurting you. Getting you hurt”—she runs her fingers over my wrist—“all of it.”
There’s a lot I could say. A lot I want to say, but she keeps going. “I was scared. ”
“What were you scared of, baby?”
She smiles, her fingers tickling up my arm now. “You. My feelings toward you. The way I come alive when you’re around. I wanted to know if those feelings were exclusive to you.”
“And what’s the verdict?”
Finally, those beautiful golden eyes meet mine, and a small smirk lifts the corner of her mouth. “They are.”