Page 34 of Bidding War

Anderson is straddled on Neil’s chest, punching the ever-loving fuck out of him. I don’t know if I’m hallucinating this. Maybe Neil killed me, and this is some kind of fantasy my brain is feeding me to help ease my transition. I read about that kind of thing somewhere.

But then Neil scrabbles out from under him and kicks Anderson in the ribs before he can get up. What the hell kind of comforting hallucination would do that? This is really happening.

I cringe back from the fight, still sitting on the floor but bringing my knees up. The hall isn’t so wide that I couldn’t get dragged into it.

Anderson tries to get to his feet after that kick, but Neil slams his fist into his face, knocking him back against the wall of metal mailboxes. But that only catches Anderson’s back, almost helping him to his feet. He ricochets off it, using the momentum to carry him forward. Anderson pivots around to Neil’s side and dips, jabbing him in the stomach with a low uppercut. They’re too close to each other for Neil to punch him again. But he brings his elbow down on Anderson’s shoulder.

They move so quickly that I’m not even sure if I’m seeing things right. So much is blurry at the edges. Wherever I look is in focus, but the space around it fuzzes. I blink a lot to clear my vision, but that’s not the problem. Whatever Neil did to me is, and my vision hasn’t righted itself just yet.

At some point, their match is back and forth, one shoving the other across the space. Neil lands against the wall next to me, then launches from there to attack Anderson before I can grab his leg to stop him. They’re too fast for me to help. All I can do is watch.

This isn’t the trained elegance of a boxing match or even a sloppy bar fight. Each blow is brutal. Animalistic. They aren’t playing by any rules. They’re trying to kill each other. I shriek at them to stop, but my voice is so hoarse I hardly hear it. And it wouldn’t matter anyway.

They aren’t going to stop until this is over.

Neil jams his knee at Anderson’s groin, and it takes the focus out of him. Neil seizes the chance and knocks him to the floor. He jumps onto Anderson’s chest, straddling him the way Anderson had done to him. But the moment he rears back to punch him, Anderson hooks his hand around Neil’s neck and yanks him down, taking away any advantage he had by being on top. Anderson rolls them over. Neil collides with the wall, but he’s on his feet almost as fast as Anderson.

For a moment, they pant at each other. But neither is ready to stop. Not by a long shot.

Neil lunges first, head low, arms out, ready to embrace Anderson in a violent tackle. But Anderson sees it. He turns to his side, so when Neil tackles him, he thrusts his elbow on the back of Neil’s head. The crack of it echoes as Neil staggers. He blinks rapidly like he’s gotten his bell rung.

Anderson grabs a fistful of his hair to slam Neil’s head into his knee. Neil almost crumbles, but Anderson shoves him upright and punches him so hard that he whacks his head into the wall. Blood gushes from Neil’s nose as he slides down the wall, unconscious.

Instantly, Anderson is at my side. He asks something, but it sounds like he’s underwater. Sweat glistens on his upper lip. His handsome face is bruised up, and I think he’s going to have a black eye. My poor guy. He waves his hand in front of my face. I can’t quite hear him right, but I read his lips, “How many fingers?”

“Three,” I squeak out.

He closes his eyes in relief and wraps me in his arms.

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19

ANDERSON

Holding June is exactly what I need right now. Doesn’t matter that we’re in her apartment building lobby. Doesn’t matter that we’re not together. Holding her is the only thing in the world that matters. That bastard will never touch her again.

My fist throbs along with the rest of my body. Green Sweater got in some great shots, and he’s strong. Whoever he is, he’s either had training or he’s been in a lot of street fights. That was way too close for comfort.

During the whole thing, I was kicking myself for not taking Moss’ offer of a small side piece. He had said, “It does not hurt to carry a little gun. You never know who might need to catch a bullet.” Motherfucker was right about that. I’ll have to ask him for some training, too. I don’t like how close this was, and it’s been way too long since I took any kind of martial arts classes.

June’s shaking, and it breaks my heart. I don’t trust my voice not to waver, but I have to start a conversation to get her to calm down. “You’re sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah,” she hisses out in a strange whisper. It’s all she can do. He ravaged her throat.

I lean back and stare at the bruises blossoming there. The shape of his hand on her throat makes me sick. I cannot believe I let it get that far. That I almost walked away. He would have had her on her back and worse. That sick fuck would have killed her. I’m sure of it. The only question is before or after he did what he wanted to her body.

“Don’t,” she hisses.

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t look at me like that.” Tears spill down her cheeks.

I hold her close. “Baby, I’m so sorry. How did I look at you?”

She sniffles hard. “Disgusted.”

At that, I freeze up. “I am disgusted with him. Not you. You did nothing wrong, June. Nothing. Do you hear me?”

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