23
CARTER
Stewing over the bruises on Lauren’s arm probably wasn’t going to be very productive, but it was the only thing I could do. The images of the bruises, purple and red under her milky skin, made me so angry that I kept finding myself gripping my mug so hard I thought I was going to break it. Then the thought of Ashton’s stupid, smug face made me want to punch something until it shattered in my fist.
I was going to need to put my gym equipment in the office.
I had a whole-body punching bag locked away in the garage. I’d bought it right out of the military, thinking I would pursue my old boxing skills, dusting them off and using it for training. But the popularity of full-body, yoga-inspired fitness sidetracked me, and now all my punching equipment was locked away in the garage, gathering dust.
It would be very effective right then. I could just imagine it was Ashton and go to town wreaking havoc on it. A few hours of knocking the stuffing out of the bag would probably let me focus on the work I had ahead of me. It might raise some questions among the guys, though.
That was part of the problem. I needed to be able to blow off steam, including by just talking about the situation. It made me very happy that she was willing to get the restraining order, but that was symbolic mostly. Sure, if the cops came and found him close to her, they could arrest him or at least remove him from being close to her, but that was if they caught him. Otherwise, it meant nothing.
Deacon and Everett were in their office. I could just walk over and talk to them about it. But if I did, it would blow our cover, and then nothing would ever be the same. I’d have to deal with whatever they thought of me dating her and possibly screwing up our situation with her in the office.
As I stared at the wall, feeling the heat rising in the room like someone had turned on a sun lamp on the back of my neck, I knew I had to do something. It was going to kill me to keep all this inside. At least Lauren was out of the office, taking a break to go home and take care of some stuff there that she had neglected since she was spending so much time at my place.
I stood up, opened the door of my office, and saw that their door was already open. Deacon was reclined on a chaise lounge chair that he’d found on clearance somewhere the day before, fiddling on his phone. Everett was at his desk, typing on his laptop. Both men looked up at me as I opened my door and stopped what they were doing.
“Everything alright, bro?” Deacon asked.
“No,” I said.
“Alright,” Everett said, closing his laptop. “Bring it in. What’s going on?”
“Coffee first?” Deacon asked.
“I don’t need any caffeine,” I said.
“Ah shit,” Deacon responded, putting his phone in his pocket. “What happened? Is it Lauren?”
I sighed and nodded. They must have already suspected.
“She went out to lunch with her friend Rebecca yesterday, and her ex was there,” I said.
“He say something to her again?” Deacon asked.
“Do we need to go remind him to keep his mouth shut?” Everett asked.
“He put his hands on her,” I said. “Grabbed her hard enough to leave bruises and threatened her.”
“What?” they both exclaimed in unison.
“That son of a bitch,” Deacon growled.
“What do you want to do?” Everett asked. “We can take the rest of the day off. Let’s go fuck him up.”
“I was thinking the same thing,” I said.
“Hang on,” Deacon said, standing. He went to a closet and opened it up, pulling out a large duffel bag. Sitting it down on the floor, he opened it up and pulled out two baseball bats. I looked at them and then to him. “In case he has backup,” Deacon said.
“Give me one,” Everett said. Deacon handed him one, then pulled a third out and offered it to me. I shook my head.
“I want to put my fists on him,” I said. “Those are in case there’s a problem.”
“Fair enough,” Deacon said. “Let’s ride.”
We hopped into Deacon’s truck and headed into town. I knew where he lived and guided Deacon to his place. The dickhead was standing outside, a beer bottle in his hand and a shit-eating grin on his face. Deacon screeched to a stop outside his house, and we hopped out, Deacon and Everett behind me as I walked up to within a few feet of him and stopped.
“Is this supposed to scare me?” Ashton asked, the grin never leaving his face.
“It should,” I said. “But not because of them. They’re just here in case you had friends, but I should have known a loser like you would be alone.”