Page 9 of The Jester and His Outlaw: Part 2

While I’m bent over, he shoves me from the side with his boot. I stumble but catch myself on the gas pump. The idea of ripping it from its housing and pouring gas on him, then lighting a match flashes in my mind, but I quash that. Pretty sure that’s attempted murder and slightly more illegal than simply putting hands on someone.

I clench my free fist, imagining how good it would feel to smash it into his jawbone and watch him fall to the ground, but then I remember this motherfucker is rich as shit and I need to avoid touching him altogether. He needs no more fuel to his fire with wanting to do damage to me.

“Man up, punk.” After collecting a wad of phlegm, he spits it on my new boot. I grit my teeth to the point of pain to keep my mouth shut from the obscenities that I won’t give light.

“What do you want, Jonas?” I get out and try as I might, I can’t keep the venom from my voice. It’s harsh, ragged from my rapid breathing and the adrenaline raging in my system.

“You’re going to leave my girl alone,” he threatens, taking a power stance a few feet away from me as I right myself. Giant arms crossed over his chest, he widens his feet and tilts his chin up, peering down the length of his nose at me. He’s a formidable guy, but he’s slow. As Jensen always says, there’s a reason he plays football and not hockey. I’m sure I could get one good hit in if I needed to.

“In case you haven’t noticed, Charley and I are done.”

He snorts a laugh, his oversized pecs bouncing, and I try to fight the images of him and Charley together. Did she whimper for him like she did for me? When she came, did she scream his name or shrivel in shame? Did she even come for him, or just fake it? “Don’t think I haven’t noticed you stalking her from the parking lot.”

“I’m not stalking her. Like I said, we are done.” Acid bubbles in my stomach as I say those words. They seem so fucking final, so uncomfortable on my tongue. As much as I know it to be true, I never want to say it again.

“She’s mine,” he growls, and I want to agree with him so he’ll leave, but I just can’t. I know that whatever he tries, Charley will never go back with him. She’s mortified that she was ever with him in the first place.

“I may not be with her, but I won’t let you have her either. She’s too fucking good for you.” The distance between us lessens when I step forward. His eyes jump to my new position, then back to my face. His brow raises marginally, but I don’t miss it. He knows that statement got to me.

The air that surrounds him is hot and sizzles with psychotic desperation mixed with a hint of diesel from his massive truck. One I imagine Charley crawling in and out of. Is that what she’s into? Guys with big trucks? Because that will never be me. Sure, I don’t mind the power, but a bike will always be faster. She never seemed to mind my bike. Enjoyed riding, actually.

His eyes are glassy, strained, his pupils blown. Tiny droplets of sweat dot his forehead and upper lip.

“Don’t get it twisted, no one is too good for me, especially not a little whore like Charley.”

Size difference doesn’t matter. Money doesn’t matter. That he pushes assholes like him around on a field doesn’t matter. I lose my shit when he calls my girl a whore. My Outlaw is no whore.

She’s not my girl.I need to reel in my reactions regarding her. But I can’t.

In a flash, I gap the rest of the distance and before he registers what’s happening, my fist pounds into his jawbone. It doesn’t do much, but he stumbles back a step. I give him no chance to rebound because let’s be honest, I’m tall, but I’m not a match for him and a little malnourished right now. He’ll ruin me if I give him the option.

Pain jolts through my shoulder, ricocheting down my spine from the impact of my body to his gut. Pretty sure he hasn’t missed a day of sit-ups in his life.Fuck, that hurts.

We sail back into the side of his truck, thudding against the thick metal. The air whooshes from his lungs and he wheezes, then lands a blow to my ribs. Not yet recovered from throwing us into his truck and the pain that created, my knees buckle.

The sides of his fists slam into my spine with the weight of a sledgehammer, and once I’m flat, he grabs the back of my shirt and rolls me over. He drops over me, straddling me, and I bring my hands up to protect my face from his punches. He gets in a good two or three, knocking me so hard I see two of him for a moment.

I buck my hips to force him off balance, but the motherfucker is too big. I’m gonna die here. There is no way out of this. Why the fuck did I think it was a good idea to start something with him?

Another fist cracks against my jaw and the edges of my vision blackens.

“Fuck…” I groan, gasping to catch my breath. My limbs are near useless at this point and I can’t fight back.

“Hey! That’s enough, Myers,” someone bellows, and he’s wrenched from his position over me. The beams of light from overhead rain down on me in his absence, and I have to squint against their onslaught. The world spins around me. All I can do is groan. Everything hurts right now and my mind is hazy as fuck. Boots scuff on the pavement and I think someone shoves someone. Jonas is cursing my name, sending threats my way. I’d like to say I’m ignoring him, but really I’m incapacitated. There wouldn’t be anything I could say, even if I wanted to.

All sense of survival is out the window.

“Son, you’ve got about two seconds to get the fuck off my property before I put some buckshot in that tight little ass of yours. Am I clear?” a familiar voice says. I recognize her immediately as the cashier. Who knew she’d save me twice in one day.

The sound of a diesel truck assaults my ears as it starts and peels out of the parking lot.

“Riggs, bud, you alright, man?” Is that Kai? He must be the one who pulled Jonas off me.

“Huh… wha…” Forcing my eyes open to see him doesn’t happen like I planned. One eye opens halfway, peeking around to find him.

“Don’t worry. We’ll get you to a hospital. Just relax. Okay?”

CHAPTER4

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