OWNED & UNTAMED (Back Down Devil MC #11) - London Casey Page 0,18
spit right in my face. I let him go and stepped back. A second later he pulled himself up to his feet. He raised his fists and nodded to me.
A half smile crept on my face as I nodded back.
The door opened and Belle stood there. “What was that sound?”
Me and Jim ignored Belle.
Jim came right at me, tossing a weak right to my jaw. I barely moved.
I swung back, hitting him in the gut. He jumped back, losing balance, and I grabbed the back of his shirt.
“Come on, asshole!” I growled.
“Stop!” Belle cried out.
Jim lifted his head and thrust his forehead, smashing my nose. My eyes filled with water and then Jim got me with a good left, right combo. It sent me back and I tasted blood in my mouth.
He hobbled at me, swinging a left. I blocked him and got a nice hook to his nose, opening him up. The fucking asshole would have better balance if he had taken the time to learn how to walk with his new leg. I could picture him in my mind being a stubborn prick about it.
Jim punched quick and hit me in the shoulder. My bad shoulder.
I let out a cry and jumped back. He got me good, breaking me open, leaving blood on my shoulder.
“What the fuck?” Jim asked.
“I got shot,” I said. I put my fists back up. “You done yet?”
“You got shot? When?”
“Shut up, Jim,” I said. “Hit me. Come on. Fucking hit me.”
We closed in on each other when I felt a stinging pain on my cheek. I looked to my left and there was Belle. She was damn crazy. She swung again and slapped me square in the nose. Then she showed me that she picked up the broken whiskey bottle.
Jim got one last punch at me before the fight truly ended.
I was goddamn in disbelief.
I slowly showed my hands. “Okay, sweetie. Take it easy.”
“What is wrong with both of you?” she screamed. “You were shot?” She looked at Jim. “And you only have one leg!”
Jim started to laugh. He had his deep, cocky laugh that got on everyone’s nerves. Except mine.
I started to damn laugh.
Belle dropped the bottle, tears in her eyes, and turned to storm away.
“Ah, shit,” I said. “Belle!”
She ran away crying.
Shit, I had seen that scene so many times as a kid with her. Me and Jim one time piled up her dolls and lit them on fire to watch their faces melt. Man, we were fucked up kids.
I looked at Jim.
We nodded. A sign of respect.
“Don’t ever waste my whiskey again,” he said.
I watched as he hobbled to the back steps and climbed them.
And there I was, outside and alone, bleeding, in the last place I ever thought I’d be.
I really shouldn’t have wasted that whiskey.
**
Jim was on the couch, his eyes shut. He crashed freaking hard. I wished there was more I could do for him, but there was nothing. No book, no doctor, none of that could help what was swirling through Jim’s mind. It was the hardest damn thing to explain. The fantasy and dream coming true, being the worst of a nightmare you ever thought possible, and then you’re left teetering in and out of that nightmare.
I turned and Belle was two inches from me.
“Whoa,” I said. “Careful sneaking up on me like that.”
“Why? You going to shoot me?”
I grinned. “You never know, sweetie.”
“You were shot,” Belle pointed out again. “For real.”
“Wasn’t the first time,” I said. “Won’t be the last time either.”
“Let me patch you up, Duke. That looks like a lot of blood.”
I knew what I needed to do. Head to the fucking front door and be gone. Never come back to the house ever again. I didn’t know why I came to begin with.
Fuck that, man, you know why.
Yeah, right.
To see Belle. To see what she looked like. I used to joke with her and tell her that since her name meant beautiful, she had a lot to live up to. This was back in her pre-pubescent days, when her hair was weird and greasy, her face pimply, her body awkwardly changing. Amazing how those few years I had over her felt like a lifetime then but didn’t matter later in life. I was the cool bad boy that smoked, had a motorcycle, and slept through school. And my eyes looked to her…
Fuck.
Belle put her hand into mine. “Come on. Let’s go upstairs.”