Page 14 of Breaking Storm

She gives me a sardonic smile. “Oh, then you better find it.”

My hand caresses her throat, fingers hugging the sides, and I place my face right up to hers. “If you don’t tell me where it’s at, I’ll fuck you in the ass so hard, your asshole will be as wide as the fucking Grand Canyon. Now. Where. Is. The. Picture?”

Her throat dips under my hand and perspiration glistens her skin.

Teagan points to the dresser and says, “Top drawer.”

With one last glimpse, I relinquish her neck, find the picture, and rub my thumb over it. The side of my mouth turns upward at the picture of my anchor over the years. The only good thing that exists in this dark world. She’s the reason I do horrible things. It’s how I keep her safe.

Teagan whispers, “Who is she?”

Over my shoulder, I examine her to see if the question is sarcastic or simple curiosity. It doesn’t matter though.She’smy secret to keep. I slip the picture back into the notebook and grab Teagan’s hand as I pass by, leading us downstairs.

Sean is waiting by the door. We head to the car and Teagan and I slide into the back seat. I stare out the window, mentally preparing for this fight. Uncertain which way it will go or what will happen afterwards, my muscles and nerves are coiled into knots. I turn to Teagan and she’s also lost in thought, gazing out the window. My eyes zoom in on the driver’s seat where Sean’s checking on me through the rearview mirror. With a heavy sigh, I let my head fall back and close my eyes.

When we arrive, there’s a swarm of beasts and suited men sizing each other up and placing bets. James must have been keeping an eye out for us because he motions us over. His deadpan eyes keep roaming over Tea, licking his lips, so I stand in front of her. I’ve always had a hunch James had a thing for Teagan, and he has confirmed it a couple of times. Once I’m in front of her, it breaks his trance.

He says to me, “You’re favored to win. Bets are mounting close to $250,000.”

“My opponent?”

“Sid “Savage” Malloy. He’s crazy and out of control.” James knocks a cigarette pack against his hand and takes the cigarette that pops out. He lights it, blows out smoke, and says, “It’s the first fight. Same rules. The fight ends when someone loses consciousness or calls quits.” He steps to the side to peek at Teagan. I take her arm, moving her a distance from the group of men. From the corner of my eye, James is monitoring us, so I lift Tea’s chin and kiss her on the mouth. Our first full-on, closed mouth kiss, to show James she’s mine. Her eyes widen, but she doesn’t jerk away. When I bend my head to the side, Sean is giving me a“what are you doing”look.

“Keep Tea away from James. As soon as the fight is over, get to the car and lock the doors. If there’s trouble—”

“I got it, Joey.” Sean hands over a bottled water. “You ready?”

I shrug. “Pumped to get it over with.”

Tea is watching me. Our eyes catch, and we stand there, stewing in our thoughts. I’d love to know what is going through her mind; if she’s hoping I lose or worried I might get hurt. I doubt the latter. Tea’s probably praying my body gets battered so badly, she can revel in the damage and gain some freedom. Sean takes the water from me, which has me shifting my eyes away from hers.

From behind, I hear, “First fight is Storm Cooper and Savage Malloy.”

I grab my shirt from the back, pull it over my head, and toss it to Sean. I walk toward the middle of the circle. There are blistering voices, filed down by nicotine and alcohol, grumbling opinions, last-minute bets, and taunts. Malloy stands a couple feet away from me. Spectators punch their fists into the air, flex their biceps, and take wide stances. Street fights are similar to car wrecks—fast, unpredictable, and furious.

Malloy cracks his knuckles, lifts his fists in front of his face, and says, “One punch and you’ll beg me to stop.”

My hands splay against my stomach, and my face splits with laughter. Malloy is stunned by my response and lowers his guard, which is the exact moment I punch him in the nose. I’ve observed Malloy fighting, and the only savage thing about him is when he smacks his head like the Three Stooges, acting psycho to distract his opponent. He’s an easy victory.

Blood splatters from his nose, but he shakes his head and comes at me. I deflect his jab and cross, except he gets a hit to my eye before I land a right uppercut, followed by a left hook. Malloy favors his left ribs, bouncing backwards on the balls of his feet to regain his senses. I’m not about to let him do that, so to live up to my name, I invade his space, and release a storm of fists. Jab-cross-left uppercut. Cross-jab-jab-cross-right hook. He stumbles back, holding his head, and scurries to the side to avoid any more of my wrath. But he has no idea how much I want this over. How I loathe street fighting. In order to end it quickly, I become a battle storm, leaving him little chance to recover. More fists. A kick to his knee. His head snaps sideways, and his chest strikes the ground. Malloy rolls to his back, grasping his knee. The son-of-a-bitch didn’t have a chance. Arrogance clouded his judgment.

A succession of shots that sound like fireworks, rattle the street. People take cover. I crouch down, scan the area, and run toward Sean and Teagan who are heading to the car, but she slips and falls. Sean moves to get her, except I wave him away, pointing to the car. I hoist Tea up, take her arm, and we flee down the street. Gunshots continue, Tea ducking her head and covering it with the other arm. Terror strips her face of color. We make it to lower Stetson. Shouts and more shots ring out behind us. When we approach a small, receded entranceway from the street, I place Teagan against the door, with me blocking her from view.

I whisper, “Nothing’s going to happen to you, Tea. Just stay quiet.”

Facing the street, I put my back to her. Her hands slide to the sides of my bare waist for more security. Her ragged breaths warm my back when she crushes her forehead to it. The shouts are closer. Two guys come into view, surveying the area, and no visible guns. One guy jogs over to the sidewalk, and he finds me when he passes the entranceway. I push Tea down to the ground and take a swing. The guy avoids the punch and hollers to his friend. This time, I get him in the face and gut as he buckles over. His friend approaches on my right side, so I do a roundhouse kick to the chest which sends him flying backwards. The first guy recovers, punching me in the jaw, but I’m able to block his other attempts.

From my periphery, I notice the second guy reaching for a gun. As he takes it out of his jeans, Teagan comes out of the shadows and slams a crowbar down on his arm, knocking the gun from his hand. I reach it first, and by the time I turn around, the two flee. Tucking the gun in the back of my waistband, I snatch Teagan’s hand, and we make our way to Michigan where Sean is waiting for us. Blood seeps from my eyebrow and Sean tosses me a towel.

Teagan’s rubbing her arms up and down. Her head is whipping in different directions, looking out the windows. Worry lines crease her face.

While I’m pressing the towel against my eye, I say to Teagan, “Don’t you ever do that again.”

Her mouth drops open and then closes. Grinding her teeth, she responds, “You’re welcome.”

A burning fear spreads over my chest. “He could have shot you!”

“And he definitely would have shotyouif I didn’t knock the gun away.” She sits back with a huff. “Do you think I want any of this? I hate the violence…” She catches tears on the back of her hand. “Hate it, yet here I am, part of it…” Teagan’s eyes narrow on mine. “Saving you and getting yelled at!”

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