Page 74 of Indigo

Angry, drunken men are dangerous. It’s as simple as that. They don’t give a shit about the consequences of their actions. They only see what they want to see and once they’re focused on their target, they aim and fire, and rarely go down without a fight.

I jump forward as Michael dodges Jagger, his hand reaching for Indie, because I know exactly what’s about to happen. Michael grabs Indie’s arm, hard enough for her to wince and yelp from the pain, the sound echoing in my ears as I try to reach her. Jagger grabs him again, recovering quickly from his deflection, and then Michael turns, narrows his eyes and pushes Jagger back with so much force that he goes flying, crashing right into an empty table, taking it, and its freshly broken pieces with him as he falls to the floor.

I wince as if feeling his pain myself, and before I get the chance, Matt is charging at Michael, fists flying, the sound of his knuckles connecting with his jaw, making everyone in the room cringe.

Michael, being drunk, clearly doesn’t feel the hit the way he would if he was sober and tries to lunge at Jagger as he pulls himself from the floor.

Just as I reach Indie’s side, she flies forward, trying to stop Michael from getting to him, and without even looking back at her, Michael swings his arm and his hand connects with the side of her face.

Holy shit.

The sight of her head jerking back from the force of his hit makes the room move as if in slow motion. Sounds are muffled. My movements feel slow as I reach for her, taking her face between my hands, careful not to touch the now reddening mark on her cheekbone.

“I’m okay,” she says, placing her shaking hands over mine, her glassy eyes darting back and forth between mine as if trying to reason with me. “Pax, I’m okay.”

Her voice sounds as though it’s miles away, but I focus on her lips as they move and nod as she speaks. From the corner of my eye, I see Drew and Callum grab Michael and restrain him. Jagger reaches Indie’s other side, and Josh appears next to me, his eyes never leaving the man being held down, as he hands me the bat he keeps behind the bar.

“Go to Jagger,” I say, pressing a kiss to Indie’s forehead, my body trembling with rage. “Don’t get in the middle of this, Blue.”

Her eyes go wide, but before she can protest, Jagger grabs her waist and pulls her to his chest, nodding at me as if to say, “I’ve got your girl.”

The sick satisfaction I get from turning to face Michael, being met with his unfocused, crazed eyes, as he’s forced to his knees in front of me, is unnerving.

Oh, you’re mine now, motherfucker.

“Let him go,” I say, grinning at Drew and Callum.

They give each other confused looks but back off as soon as I ask them to.

Instead of using the bat, which would end this whole thing a hell of a lot quicker, I toss it to the floor, and roll up the sleeves of my dark grey knit jumper. I’m going to feel every fucking moment of this.

Michael immediately stands, swaying a little. “She’s coming home with me,” he spits, darting his eyes back to Indie.

I shake my head and spread my arms wide. “Gotta get through me first, mate. I’m standing right here. Let’s do it.”

I see the exact moment something inside his head snaps. His eyes change. It’s the same tick my dad had, so when he comes at me, I’m more than prepared.

I meet him head on, letting his first hit make contact with my jaw, and then I swing at him. I don’t even feel his punch, or the moment my knuckles connect with his face, but I smile the entire fucking time.

I’ll give it to him, he doesn’t fall back down from the first hit, just sways a little and tries to punch me again. Given how intoxicated he is, his movements are a lot slower than he seems to think they are, and dodging them is as simple as just stepping out of the way.

I click my tongue as he tries and fails once again. “I’ve been fucking aching to do this since the moment I laid eyes on you. You have no fucking idea how good it feels to watch the blood drip from your face.”

Suddenly, he speeds, and actually lands a solid punch, his knuckles colliding with my brow bone. I know it splits instantly. I feel the blood seeping down the side of my face, but I simply wipe it away so it doesn’t affect my vision.

He’s silent for a moment before he chuckles and looks at me with the evilest glare I’ve ever seen, which is fucking saying something. “You know I’ll get her one way or another, right? I have unlimited resources and you’re a fucking mechanic. I’m going to leave here, file a police report, and have you locked up. Then I’ll be back for her.”

I’m stunned by his words momentarily, and as he lands another blow to my jaw, memories I wish I could forget invade my mind, and instead of Michael standing in front of me, it’s my father.

I lose it.

I punch him so hard that the pain from my knuckles radiates all the way up my fucking arm, but it doesn’t take me long to recover, pure hatred controlling my every move. Swing after swing, hit after hit, feels fucking euphoric. Every groan, every yelp of pain and gurgled insult is sickening, yet so damn satisfying. Flashes of Jagger’s face as a child, crying in the corner as my father hit me, run through my mind. My mother’s face as he’d corner her in the kitchen, Indie’s expression when Michael had her up against the car in that parking lot all meld together into one long, drawn out nightmare, one I don’t come out of until I hearher.

Indie’s voice breaks through the fog. It sounds far away at first, and I shake my head, trying to clear my brain so that I can focus.

Is she actually here, or if I’m imagining that as well?

Michael’s face becomes clearer, and I realise we’re on the ground now. I’m on top of him, holding the collar of his shirt. His face is fucked up. Blood is pouring from his nose and the cut on his lip. For a moment, I think he’s dead. He’s limp, his left eye is swollen shut, and the only thing holding him up at this point is me, but when I release him, and his body hits the floor with a thud, he groans, rolls onto his side and starts coughing.

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