Fight, Jamiee - Ellie R. Hunter Page 0,65
the phone tightly in my hand, wishing we could go back to last night when we were both euphorically happy, and planning our future.
“Babe? What is it?”
A tear rolls down my cheek. “I have something to tell you, and you’re not going to like what you hear.”
He snorts. “It can’t be any worse than when you announced you were dating Lockheart.”
He stills when I don’t say anything. “Talk to me, now.”
I flinch at his tone. “Deacon sent me a message this morning.”
“And? Delete it and block him.”
If only it were that simple.
“He sent me a video of us… together. He said if I didn’t meet him, he’d make it go viral.”
There, the bomb’s been detonated. The grenade has had its pin pulled. The war has been reignited.
“Excuse me? A video? You’re talking about a fucking sex tape?” he spits, his anger building.
“Yes, but I don’t remember him ever filming me. I was so drunk, I don’t remember—”
“Show me.”
Holding the phone even tighter, I gasp, “No!”
He’s never seeing this. The thought of me with Deacon intimately was bad enough for him, but to actually see us together? He’d never get over it. He would forever see the images burned into his mind.
“Give me the phone, Jamiee.”
“No. You don’t need to see it.”
Storming into the bathroom, he slams the door shut. I’m unable to move, and can barely breathe as I wait for him to come back out. I tell myself this is still the best route to take. He’s in shock, and I don’t blame him. When he’s had the chance to calm down, he’ll help me figure out what to do next.
Only, when he storms back out, he’s fully dressed, and searching the room for his boots.
Spotting them behind me, he keeps his distance as he moves around me and snatches them up off the floor. Taking a seat at the end of the bed, he puts them on silently.
“Where are you going?”
“Where do you think? He’s hoping you show up, but I’ll be there instead. Text him. Ask him where he wants to meet you.”
This isn’t good. Not at all.
“What are you going to do to him?”
He finally looks me in the eye, and what I see is the Freddie from the video on the night he attacked Deacon.
“I’m going to kill him.”
Before he’s finished tying his lace, I open the door and yell for Damon. His room is only across the hall, but I scream his name until his door swings open.
“What the fuck?”
“You need to stop Freddie. He’s going after Deacon again.”
Confusion mars my brother’s face, but I don’t have time to explain. Freddie’s hands curl around my upper arms and moves me out of his way.
Damon steps out of his doorway and blocks Freddie’s attempt to leave.
“What’s going on, Fred?”
“Ask your sister.”
Freddie shoves at Damon, but thankfully, he saw it coming and holds his stance. “Get out of my way.”
His voice is cold and detached, and Damon knows straight off that something really bad has happened.
“You’re not leaving until I know what the fuck is happening here,” Damon asserts.
“Fine. That piece of shit filmed him and your sister together, and now he’s threatening to make it go viral if she doesn’t meet him.”
Damon’s eyes widen in shock. I’m so ashamed, I can’t bear to look at him either.
I can’t stop the tears as I begin to sob.
“Please, don’t go.” I place my hand on his shoulder, but the second I make contact, he shrugs it off and walks away. Alice appears in the doorway as I watch Freddie head down the stairs, but he doesn’t leave.
I squeeze my eyes closed. I can’t bear to see the disappointment on my brother’s face. Only, his arms wrap around me, holding me close.
“We’ll fix this. I swear to you, we will,” he whispers.
“Jamiee?” Damon lets me go and stands at my side. Alice steps closer, and by god, she’s smiling.
“You didn’t delete his message or the video, did you?”
“No. Why?”
She doesn’t want to watch it too, does she?
“Because this is illegal, and you have hard evidence now. He won’t get away with it.”
Damon plants a big kiss on her cheek. “She’s right. I’ll call Freddie’s lawyer. He kept him out of prison, so he’ll be able to do magic with this.”
Running into his room, he darts back out with his phone. Alice and I follow him downstairs, where Freddie’s pouring himself a shot of tequila. He looks at Damon, he glances at Alice, and proceeds to ignore me.
“What’s Archer’s