Page 44 of Fight
“I’m afraid we can’t do that,” Jasper murmurs, making my breath catch. “Arthur and his guys did a number on you, and I can see you weaving on your feet?—”
“No! I know that I sound like a brat, but my track record in Chicago isn’t great. I’m still in Chicago, right?” I ask, lips pursed. I know this is where they live, but there’s trees for miles, and I can’t see any other neighbors out the window.
I’m having a hard time believing anything right now, and I grip the handle of the frying pan harder as paranoia and anxiety makes me spiral a little.
“Yes, Bluebell, you are,” Tommy says calmly, taking a step forward. My eyes narrow because that’s the tone you use with a freaking crazy person. I may be acting like one right now, but I have good reasons for it.
“Easy there.”
“Don't tell me to take it easy,” I growl. “I’ve been hit by a truck, kidnapped, traumatized, thrown into a dumpster with fucking rats in it, and left for dead. And now I’ve been kidnapped again!”
I’m screaming now, however my eyes still track Jasper as he starts to move toward my left side. He thinks I don’t see him, but I didn’t survive this long by being an idiot. I’m missing a lot of information, and I fucking hate it.
People die when they don’t have all the facts, or they make mistakes. Tommy is a great example of what happens when you don’t ask enough questions, and I don’t want to follow that path.
I am just missing so much of the bigger picture that it’s hard to grasp what the important questions are.
“Why are you keeping me here? I’m a Goddamn prisoner in a cage, Tommy. Jasper, I swear to God, if you take another step, I will beat the tar out of you,” I grunt.
Jasper stops immediately, smirking as he realizes that I’ve been tracking him.
“Sounds like fun,” he murmurs, licking his gorgeous lips. Wait, what? Absolutely not. Down girl.
Fuck, I blame my upcoming heat for this. Do not slick, do not!
“Go away, Casanova. I’m not biting over here,” I tell him, resisting the urge to roll my eyes.
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone shoot Jasper down. This is entertaining,” Tommy says with a chuckle. “Look?—”
I know that’s not what he meant, but I force myself to look closer at them, realizing there’s flecks of blood on their faces and arms. Taking a step back, I swallow hard. I may beat the fuck out of someone with a frying pan, but I think this is a little out of my wheelhouse.
Swallowing hard, I pick up another pan, so I have one in each hand and stretch my neck.
“Why do you look like you’re getting ready for war, Tiny?” Jasper asks, brow raising at my stance.
“I just noticed that you’re both covered in blood. Care to explain that?” I ask, not expecting an answer.
“Arthur needed to be taken care of,” Tommy says with a shrug.
“What exactly does that mean?” I ask. My heart is pounding, not because the bastard didn’t deserve it, but because someone cared enough to do anything about it.
“You were half dead when I pulled you out of the dumpster,” Jasper says. “Your little bestie also came by the gym explaining how you had issues with Arthur a little after it happened.”
“Auggie,” I whisper. “He’s here. I want to see him.”
“You’re awfully tangled up in knots about this guy,” Jasper teases me. Glancing at my weapons, I wonder if his head is as hard as it looks. I do not want to be thinking about anyone’s knots right now.
Tommy’s nostrils flare, and I wonder if he can smell how wet this argument is making me. Fuck. What I wouldn’t give for heavy duty, scent dampening, granny panties right now.
“Focus,” I snarl, more for me than them. They both snap to attention though, so I call that a win. “What I hear is jealousy, and you don’t fucking know me. I’m the omega you fished out of the dumpster, as you oh so helpfully reminded me. So why am I here?”
“Because you’re mine!” Jasper yells at me, making Tommy close his eyes in defeat and my jaw drop. “What I want to know is why you can’t tell you’re my fucking scent match? We are biologically meant to be together, and you’re just thumbing your nose at this.”
We’re what?! Fuck.
My legs fold underneath me and I fall to the ground, my frying pans coming down with me.
“Bluebell,” Tommy says gently. “It can’t be that bad.”