Page 53 of The Jester and His Outlaw: Part 2

The threat rolls right off because I know damn well I’ll be there. I’m a whore for hockey and I’ve already proven to myself that the team could be dog shit, and I’d still play. I’m not a quitter and I won’t let Layla’s pathetic attempts get to me.

Yeah, I’ll be there, but I’ll let him sweat it some.

“We’ll see,” I mutter, but I know he hears me because his clipboard goes flying into the office window, clinking and echoing off the surface of the ice.

Rage makes my hands shake as I pull my phone from my pocket and slam through the outer rink doors. The heat of the day hasn’t settled, much to my dismay, and sweat is already beading on my forehead.

I don’t notice the footsteps behind me before I’m shoved and thrown off balance. My foot folds over the edge of the sidewalk and my ankle bends, sending agony shooting up my leg. I cry out as my body crumbles, my head smacking off the edge of the concrete. It’s obvious I split the skin because warmth spreads down my forehead. I groan and try to right myself.

My phone flew from my hand, landing somewhere in the plush grass, but I can’t see where because I’m blinded by pain when a foot crashes into my ribs. I choke on the anguish, wheezing as I try to climb to my knees.

A fist grabs my hair, yanking my head back, and I blink up at Layla through the blood dripping in my eyes. A crazed hatred fills her sinister smile, her white teeth gleaming in the glow of the walkway lights. Another arm wraps around my midsection, the sharp scent of a spicy cologne assaulting me as I’m hauled to my feet. My ankle screams at me to get off it, but it isn’t me who stops it.

Whoever has me lifts me off the ground and over his shoulder. After two steps around the side of the rink, he drops me down into the grass and nudges my ass with his boot. I fall flat on my stomach when Layla wrenches my arm back to roll me over.

“You stupid slut,” she sneers, bending over me. The jarring movement and blow to my head makes the world spin around me. I blink to clear my vision, my eyes burning from the crimson liquid. I try to wipe it away, but a boot clamps down on my wrist, intending to snap it.

I’m strong, but I stand no chance of fighting these two off in my state. Fear jolts through me. If they want to, they could kill me and there is nothing I can do to stop it. Is that what they want? To kill me?

Riggs’ face flashes through my mind. Foxy and Jesen and Kai. My parents. Is this it? It could be. Why did I have to pull out my phone—let my guard down? What a stupid fucking move that was. I let everyone down.

I try to muster all the courage I can, but when I inhale, my breath is shaky and my ribs ache. Nothing I can’t handle, yet far from comfortable. “What do you want, Layla?”

“Leave Riggs alone. He’s mine, you home wrecking bitch.” I fight the urge to laugh at her. That will get me nowhere. Aaron, Jonas’ best friend, stands guard, letting the bitch take the reins on the operation.

“I can’t wreck a home that doesn’t exist.” Layla paces around me, muttering under her breath. I raise up on my elbows and slowly move back when neither of them are looking at me.

“It may not exist yet, but I was well on my way. Then here you come getting in the fucking way, you dumb bitch.” Layla seethes, clenching and unclenching her fists.

I take the time to try and make my rattled brain focus. That proves to be an impossible task. I stand no chance with two of them here. If it were just her, even in my state, I’d have no problem taking her down, but as soon as I get a hold of her, Aaron will be on me. Coach is in the locker room, but how do I know he didn’t help orchestrate this?

I’m not sure if anyone else is on campus to hear me if I scream, either.

Aaron fishes his phone out of his pocket to answer a call. He turns away and a surge of adrenaline makes me take action. I roll on my side and sweep my arm out. The motion makes my head throb and my stomach threatens to let loose, but I keep it buttoned up. It’s time for my training to kick in. I wrap my fingers around Layla’s ankle and yank. She crashes to the ground, cursing. The girl has no instincts. She lands face first into the grass, her forehead narrowly missing the concrete.

I jump to my feet. There is shuffling all around, some yelling, but I’m not sure from who. The mush my brain has become cannot comprehend anything aside from getting out of here. Maybe me, probably a little of Layla. I’m sure Aaron lets out a couple ‘fucks’ when he realizes I’m getting away. At least I hope that’s what I’m doing. I could have stopped and jumped on Layla, but I’m not the bashing kind of person. I’d rather just get the fuck out of here.

The world spins around me, my vision going blurry. My eyes blink on their own accord, my instincts kicking in. I waste no time moving, but my ankle disagrees with the movement and I almost go down. A giant as fuck body wraps an arm around me and curses.

“I’ve got you, sweetheart,” Jensen rumbles. Aaron leaps toward him. Jensen lets go of me as easily as he can. I stumble back and fall straight to my ass as the guys go at it. Layla yells something that grabs Aaron’s attention, and like the dumbass he is, he turns from the fight. Jensen cracks him square in the jaw and it’s lights out.

There is a sickening crunch when he falls back, unable to help himself, and his head bounces off the sidewalk. I turn away from the scene and hold back another wave of nausea, having just gone through that myself.

“Charley, call 9-1-1, now,” Jensen orders.

“Yeah, okay.” Jensen drops beside Aaron and places two fingers at the pulse point of his neck, then hollers to no one in particular about needing help here. Then he rushes over to Layla, who is squirming and trying to regain her footing. Maybe she went down harder than I thought.

Don’t know, don’t care.

“What the hell is going on out here?” Coach rushes through the double doors as the operator answers on the phone. I explain what happened, indirectly to Coach, but he hears everything. His eyes grow wide as he takes in the scene before him. He stops at Aaron, who is rousing, his feet moving first.

Layla yells at Jensen, who is keeping her captive, backed into a corner without touching her. No way is he letting her out of his sight. He’s seething and, while seemingly in control, his chest is heaving from the adrenaline, just like mine.

A bruise is already shadowing the bone under his left eye and his lip is bleeding, but he is otherwise unscathed. Well, his blonde curls are disheveled, but that’s not unusual for him.

He uses the bottom of his shirt to wipe at the blood trickling down his chin, exposing a delicious set of abs.Go Foxy.Because that’s entirely appropriate after everything that has happened. He’s my hero. What can I say? Every girl loves a hero, right?

“Keep him right the fuck there, Coach. Do not make me put him down again.”

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