Page 35 of Steel

Jameson’s fist connects with the side of the man’s face, and bone cracks. Light leaves his eyes as his body crumples to the ground like dead weight.

One hit and Jameson knocked him out cold.

He rubs the back of his knuckles with his other hand, turning back to me.

“You okay?” He tips my chin up so I’m forced to meet his gaze.

“I—” I’m still processing what just happened. “I’m fine.”

He releases my face, and I look down to see his knuckles are bleeding. He hit that man so hard, it broke his skin open.

“Are you okay?” Before I think about it, I reach out and grab Jameson’s hand to examine the cut. “You need antiseptic and a bandage.”

Jameson chuckles, and when I look up into his eyes, there’s amusement in them. I’ve seen a few sides to this man in the past day, butfriendlyisn’t one of them, so it’s disarming.

“I’ve been hurt worse.” He pulls his hand from my grasp.

“Doesn’t mean you should ignore it.” I narrow my eyes, circling around him to the first aid kit hanging on the back wall. “Just because it isn’t a bullet wound doesn’t mean it can’t get infected.”

I pull out an antiseptic wipe and a Band-Aid.

“Hearts?” he asks, spotting the cartoon hearts on the Band-Aid.

I shrug. “Marley thought it was funny. Nothing lightens the mood from a bar fight like a Band-Aid with hearts on it.”

Jameson watches me wipe the cut on the back of his hand with the antiseptic wipe. “You clean up lots of guys after bar fights?”

“No.” I glance up at him. “You’re an exception.”

“Is that so?” He smirks.

I nod. “That’s so. Can’t trust you to do it yourself, tough guy. Besides, it’s the least I can do to thank you.”

My gaze moves to the body on the ground, and Jameson’s fingers wrap around my hand. The other one rests over where I’m still wiping the back of his knuckles.

“Are you okay, Tempe? Really?”

“I’m fine. Just a little out of breath.” I force a smile, and he luckily accepts it.

Stepping back, I’m still a little hazy, but I distract myself with the Band-Aid, picking at the corner to unwrap it.

Jameson chuckles. “No thanks on the Band-Aid, wildfire.”

“But hearts…” I tease, and he shakes his head.

I don’t argue because there’s no point. I tried, and at least he let me clean his cut.

Jameson reaches into his pocket, pulling out his phone, while I make my way over to the trash to throw away the antiseptic wipe.

“Havoc, I need you to bring the van to Dirty Drakes and pick up a package… No, the other kind of package… Yeah… Sonny’s gonna keep an eye on it. I’m heading back now.”

He hangs up as the back door swings open, and Sonny and Reyes walk in.

“Where were you?” Jameson snaps at them.

“Sorry, Pres—”

“Stay here until Havoc arrives.” He cuts them off, and his tone is pure ice.

---