Jagger: A Caldwell Brothers Novel (6 page)

I look down at my phone and read the message out loud:
“You wanna play a game? How about you and I are cats, and we see who gets the mouse.”
I look up at Shaw from behind the curtain. “Message signed with that little worm.” I laugh as I look at the cartoon character that is supposed to represent a cobra. I speak as I type my response,
“I ain’t no pussy. How about you be the cat, keep the fucking mouse, and I keep the title? Who’s the champion? I fucking am!”

“You sure are, son. You sure are.” Shaw pats my back as I toss my phone on the pile of warm-up clothes sitting on the chair.

“Did my brothers call?” I ask Kid.

“Probably out looking for the chick you aren’t in love with,” he says, shaking his head.

“So they did call? I’ll tell you just what I told them. It isn’t love. I just want her safe, just want her alive.”

“Right,” he says. “Well, they didn’t call.” He walks over and peeks out from around the wall at the loud and rowdy spectators.

“Ladies and gentlemen, are you ready?” the announcer yells. “This evening is brought to you by Broke Bail Bonds. This is to defend the Rock City Light-Heavyweight Championship. We will have five three-minute rounds. In the Broke Bail red corner, standing at an even six feet tall, weighing in at a cool two hundred three pounds, the man who has vowed to get his title back, the striker, Cooooobra!”

“Shut ’Em Down” by Public Enemy blasts, and the crowd goes wild. I assume Cobra is bounding out from across the floor.

“In the black corner, sponsored by Caldwell’s Bar, standing six feet one inch, weighing in at a trim one hundred ninety-five pounds, the reigning light-heavyweight champion, Jagger ‘The Hitmaker’ Caldwell!”

“Right About It” by Lil Wayne starts, and Shaw gives me the stink eye once again.

“No change in songs. This one was good luck.” I give Shaw a half-hug, fist bump Kid, and then my mind gets fight-ready.

I hold my hands up in prayer position, look up, and whisper, “Legacy, Momma.”

I bound out and see my brothers made it. Then I look around, hopeful they brought the little one with them, but they didn’t.

“We’ll find her.” Hendrix clasps his hand on my shoulder. “Make it quick and dirty. This fucker rubs me the wrong way.”

I nod and walk out. I am trying to focus, but I’m unable to get my head in the game, thinking of the little one. Quick and dirty replays in my mind, that’s what it needs to be so I can get out there and find her.

“I’ve got something you want,” Cobra sneers.

“I think you’ve got that backward.” I laugh haughtily at him, trying to get in his head.

The bell rings, and I jab him with a left.

The first strike and last, that’s all I care about. Everything in between doesn’t mean shit.

I block a couple jabs and then hit him with a right and a sweep. He’s down.

“Come on, motherfucker. If you want to be the champ, you better fight like one.”

He hops up and spits blood on the ground. “I like to taste the first blood, whether it be from your weak-ass jab or from between a girl’s legs as I pop her little cherry.”

He lands a left, and I shake it off.

“Not many innocents hanging in your part of town.” I chuckle, fake a jab, and sweep him again. He’s down for only a moment before he grabs me, and then we both go down.

“I had one all night long. Fuck, she’s been around for three nights,” he says as he pounds his fist into my ribs.

“She’ll figure it out.” I plant my feet flat on the mat and end up on top.

His left arm is pinned under my knee as he groans and grunts, trying to free it. I hit him three times in the face.

“Her fucking accent kills me. Hot little Russian thing.”

My stomach turns. All I can think about is Tatiana.

“Looks like a little mouse, but you aren’t interested.” He takes the chance to hit me and pushes me off him.

I jump up. “You’re playing a sick fucking game.”

“Little Mouse loves to be devoured by the Cobra.”

I dive on him, knocking him down. “She’s a kid,” I say as I pound his left side and then his right over and over.

“She’s no fucking kid. She’s a little nymph. Can’t get enough of my dick,” he goads.

With one hit to his jaw, he cries out. He crashes to the ground. The announcer starts the count.

“One.”

“Two.”

I bounce around waiting.

“Three.”

Cobra moves and stands slowly. We dance around each other. His gaze is unfocused. The bell rings, and I am the victor of this round.

Rage builds inside me more than ever before. “Where the fuck is she?” I storm toward him.

“Corners!” the official snaps.

“Fuck corners! Where the fuck is the girl?”

“Where she wants to be. With a real man, a true champion, not some fucking piece-of-shit, womanizing, punk-ass—”

The bell rings again, and I dive on him. I am fury and rage, and so is he.

We meet each other blow for blow as we dance around the mat and dive. He doesn’t shut his mouth, but I am gonna make sure he does, permanently.

His arms surround me, and we go to the ground once again. I swing my arm up and connect with the underside of his jaw, wanting to break it, then tear him apart. Then his finger pushes into my eye, and I get my feet planted as his other hand connects with my face. Hard.

“Break it up!” the official screams as Cobra gets pulled off me.

I push myself up, banged up pretty badly.

“Where the fuck is your focus?” Kid screams at me as he squirts water in my face.

When the metallic taste of my own blood fills my mouth, I lean left and spit, then look at my brothers. “Find her! Now!”

“Get back,” I hear Kid growl. “No women.”

“I just want to talk to him,” I hear her voice and stand up, pushing past Kid.

I grab her shoulders and look her over. “He do this to you?” I rub my thumb over her swollen purple lip.

She shakes her head as she takes in a breath.

“He do this?” I rub my knuckles down her cheek, and tears fall from her eyes.

She squeaks out, “No.”

“Did he hurt you in any way, little one?” I push her chin up so she looks at me.

She swallows hard and shakes her head again.

“You fucking him?” I growl out.

“You fucking his girl?” she snaps back. “Did you get married? Why does he call you player?”

“No, fuck no, and he’s a dick,” I answer as the bell rings.

“I don’t know if you’re telling the truth.”

“You wouldn’t be standing here if you meant that.” I look at Hendrix. “She stays. Don’t let her leave.” I look back at her. “No one’s gonna hurt you again, little one.”

Cobra dives on me as soon as I step in. I am done with his ass. Over. Time to be quick and dirty. I have a girl to talk to.

“Lights out, motherfucker,” I say before pushing him off me and hitting him with a right hook that is fueled by need.

I turn and look at Hendrix as they count him out. “Fuck the bell, he’s out.” As my brothers run to me, Hendrix has Tatiana’s elbow, dragging her behind.

I grab her and lift her so we are eye to eye. “You’re gonna be okay.”

“How do I know that?” she asks with a slight tremble.

“ ’Cause I said so. That’s why.”

After the money is exchanged, Tatiana, Kid, Shaw, Hendrix, Morrison, and I exit out the back. Kid pulls up with Shaw. I am high off my win as I get in the back of Shaw’s SUV and wave goodbye to Hendrix and Morrison, Tatiana at my side.

I look straight ahead, avoiding eye contact because I can’t be fucking trusted. However, I do feel the weight of her eyes. Then her hand grips my thigh.

“Good touch,” she whispers with a smile giving off false confidence. I’m a rule breaker, but this is not a rule I’m going to break.

I should move it, push it away, but I don’t. “When will you be eighteen?”

“Three days,” she says, and I nearly break my neck from the speed I turn toward her.

Her eye is swollen, her lips bruised, and she’s a mess, a beautiful mess.

“In three days, you better know what’s coming for you.” She better know what’s coming for her.

Her hand rises higher on my thigh. “Good touch.” She’s fucking killing me here.

“The fucking champion.” A hint of a smile brightens her eyes, and I shake my head. “You should run, little one.”

“I did, and I ended up here.”

When her hand rises again, threatening to brush up against the tent I’m sporting, I place my hand over hers, stopping it.

“You sure you know what you’re asking for?”

She nods. “I’m not a little girl. I know what I’ve had in life and what I want in the future. Good touch.”

“Fuck me,” I groan as I lean back, take her hand, and hold it to my chest.

I shouldn’t want him. I shouldn’t be with him. I can’t stop myself, though. I want his touch. I want his safety. I want anything and everything he can give me. Something in the power exchange of the fight has me on a high. I am not comfortable with the violence, but there is a certain energy in the atmosphere that feeds on everyone in the space, including me.

Cobra brought me to the fight tonight. He told me to stay out of sight. However, when Jagger was fighting him and seemed so angry, I needed to do something. I needed to be a comfort. After he knocked Cobra out, I should have stayed. I should have stayed to make sure my friend was okay. As much as Cobra warned me he is a bad man, he was nice to me. It still scares me that he could hit his girlfriend, a woman he claims to love, but he didn’t hit me. He could have harmed me in all sorts of ways, but instead he gave me a safe haven until I could get to Jagger. There is something between us. Some unknown pull that keeps driving me back to him no matter what.

He thought I was sleeping with Cobra. He says he didn’t sleep with Missy. We definitely need to communicate better. I have never felt jealousy before. Truth be told, I have never felt anything but fear…until Jagger Caldwell. Now I have so many emotions I am dizzy trying to sort them all.

He makes me feel like a woman and not a child. He makes my body burn from the inside out. He makes me want things I have only read about in books. He makes me want to give in to wild abandon when I grew up afraid of my own shadow. How can one person do all of this to me when I barely know him?

Jagger certainly seems to be ready to leap tall buildings and save the damsel in distress. We get to the front of Caldwell’s. Jagger leads me to his car.

“Buckle up,” he says, pointing to the seatbelt, and then opens the glove box and grabs a phone. “It’s all set up. My number is under here.” He hits the green square with a phone on it and hands it to me. “Click favorites. My name is in there. The only one you’ll ever need.”

I nod my head.

“Now hit the thing that looks like a cartoon bubble, and then type me a message and hit send.”

I do as he asks while he pulls away from the curb, and his phone starts playing music.

“Good. Now your number is in my phone and you know how to text. If you ever need anything, anything at all, you call who?”

“The champ,” I say with a smile that always takes over my lips when I think of him.

He smirks and nods. “That’s right, little one.”

“You don’t have to do all of this for me, you know. I’m not helpless. I managed to get by the last few days.”

He growls at me, yes, growls. “You stay away from Cobra.”

“He’s a bad man,” I say smartly. “I know. He told me.”

“He told you?” He raises an eyebrow at me.

“Yes, he found me outside of Caldwell’s when I was looking for you. He kept me safe and we talked. He’s my friend.” I try to defend Cobra. Obviously there is a history between the two and it’s not a good one. Cobra told me, but I didn’t think Jagger would hold such a grudge as well.

“He’s nobody’s friend, little one.”

“He was nice to me, Jagger.”

He looks away from me and I decide not to press it further. For now, I want to be in the moment with the person who has given me the drive to push through the last year of my hell.

Nothing else is said, but I can’t stop looking at him. Once in a while, he looks over, but only for a second. Each time he seems to wiggle in his seat, so I look away, not wanting to make him uncomfortable.

We stop at a hotel where Jagger has me wait in the car while he secures a room. Once inside, I can’t help gawking at the suite. I have never in my life stayed some place so nice.

I trail my finger along the crisp, clean soft-gray wall as I make my way inside a bathroom that is larger than my father’s bedroom. A tub large enough to drown in sits to the right, and a shower that has a bench is off to the left. Directly in front is a countertop with side-by-side sinks along with every toiletry I could imagine.

I listen as Jagger moves around in the room behind me, and I wonder if he can afford such a luxurious place. After all, he did live in the apartment next door to me for over a year, and the people who live in our building rarely pay on time or in full. Looking around, I can’t help wondering if one night here costs more than one month’s rent to my father.

Nervously, I make my way to the bedroom, which is just beyond a nice sitting area with a couch, chair, and flat-screen television. The king-sized bed is huge compared to the twin I normally sleep on. The bedding is fluffy and done in blues and yellows, making everything feel brighter. I want to flop down on the bed and wiggle around, but because Jagger is watching me intently I stop myself to avoid coming off as childish.

When I meet his gaze, he turns his lips up in a half-smile that has my girlie parts clinching. This man is powerful, sexy, and everything I could ever dream about.

“This all you got?” he asks, holding up my backpack.

“Yes. I didn’t think too far ahead,” I admit, seeing it as a failure.

Jagger’s smile grows bigger. “Little one, you brought the essentials.”

I laugh at him. The essentials, sure, if that’s what he wants to call them. I brought my treasures. I brought the gifts he has been leaving me for months now. I left behind my father’s belongings and took only what I could claim as my own.

I sit on the plush bed and watch as Jagger finishes unpacking the few things I managed to grab when I left, and embarrassment fills me as he touches each item. They probably mean nothing to him, but they are
everything
to me.

When Jagger’s phone rings, stopping any further conversation between us, his brows draw together as he looks at the screen.

“Johnny Fuckin’ Law, what a surprise,” Jagger answers, and I strain to hear the man through the phone.

I can only hear mumbling before Jagger replies, making a smirk.

“Oh, now, now, coppa,” Jagger goads him, “I’m not playing any games.” There is a pause as the person responds.

“Who exactly is she? If you’re looking for your momma, well, she’s choking on cock right now and can’t come to the phone.”

I stifle a giggle at the brash Jagger who clearly doesn’t like this Johnny person. Something is said that has Jagger tense up.

“Is that a threat, Lawman?”

I hear the man on the other end say my name and my apartment being the scene of a crime. Instantly this is no longer funny.

Jagger’s face pales, and my heart beats wildly in my chest.

“Homicide,” I hear Johnny say and my heart skips a beat. Who was killed at my apartment?

“No, I wouldn’t,” Jagger states calmly.

There is mumbling again.

“Why me?”

“Rand had no enemies…except you.” I vaguely make out as Jagger looks to the ceiling.

“I’ll meet you there. I am innocent, Johnny. I’m telling you that right now. We’ve been friends. You know me. You’re walking a fine line. Just like a field sobriety test, Johnny, you step off the line, you fail. Then you and I will be on opposite sides of that line. In this instance, our past won’t mean shit.”

Jagger slides his finger across the phone screen, ending the call.

“Fuck!” he roars in frustration as he rakes his hand through his dark-brown hair. Then he looks at me, and I fight back tears.

My apartment is the scene of a homicide…what if it’s my father? What if it’s a reaction to all the pills? For all these months, did I do something long term to him? What if I killed him? I just needed relief. I needed safety. I didn’t mean to kill him. Questions scream inside my head, yet no words come out.

“Sit tight, little one. Don’t let anyone in or out of the room other than room service. I’ve gotta go take care of something.”

I reach out to stop him as he passes the bed. “Jagger, it was me,” I whisper.

“What?” he asks with confusion on his face.

“I did it. I’m the reason my father is dead.” Sure, it’s an assumption it was him, but who else could be dead at the building? When I left, he was snoring, but he sure wasn’t moving.

“Little one, you shouldn’t listen in on people’s conversations. I sincerely doubt you killed your father. Johnny is just dicking with me. I’ll go down, answer some questions, and find out the truth behind all of this homicide nonsense. I assure you, Tatiana, you have nothing to do with this.” He kisses my forehead softly. “Order something to eat and charge it to the room. I’ll be back later.” Then he leaves without another word or even looking back.

Emotions run rampant through me. Fear clinches my gut as I think I really killed him somehow, and then unease courses through my veins as I wonder what the future holds for me. Will I be sent back to Russia? Will I go to prison? Will anyone believe me about him beating on me? What happens next? Where will I go?

Absently, I order some food and sit on the bed while grief and anguish consume me. My one and only lifeline is dead. No, things weren’t good for me, but he was all I had. He did the best he could. At least, that’s what he always said.

Guilt fills me. I gave him too much antihistamine. He was an old man. Well, I don’t consider fifty old, but maybe he had a heart condition. The box did say not to take with certain medical conditions.

I look around the room, then stand and go to the dresser, where Jagger has unpacked my bag as if I am staying here for a while. I don’t belong here, though.

The knock at the door makes me jump. Looking through the peephole, I see it’s room service, so I pull the door back and wait as the man drops the tray on the sitting area coffee table. I scribble on the paper he gives me, making sure my name is a bunch of lines and not legible. Then he leaves, and I go back to the open drawers of the dresser.

Half of me wants to shove everything back in my bag and go home, not that I have a home anymore. I’m not of age, my only parent is dead—most likely from me—and if I go back, I have to tell them I drugged him.

Jagger said he would be back. The stronger half of me, the part of me that can’t stop thinking of the tattooed hero, wants to sit tight and wait to find out what Jagger knows.

What if this Johnny person was just messing with him and my father is alive? If I come home now after being gone for so many days, he will certainly kill me.

Closing the drawers, I go back over to my food. I open the lid and move the items around on the plate, my appetite gone. Too many questions plague me, and anxiety has my stomach doing somersaults inside.

I curl into myself on the couch and decide my only option for the time being is to wait. Fear of the unknown is still challenging me, but for now, I have had four days without someone hitting me. I shouldn’t trust so easily. Something in Jagger screams to me he’s good. Something pulls me to him in a way I thought could only be found in books.

Jagger Caldwell will come back, and I will wait for him. I have to believe there will be good for me. Jagger is that good.