Mancave (Wild Men 3)

“I wanna see you try.” From the corner of my eye, I catch his two goons pushing off the pickup and moving toward us. This won’t be a fair fight. Evan is injured. He has to protect Melissa. So it’s just me against three.

But I have my anger. It’s burning through me, making my heart hammer and my vision narrow, after simmering low for so long.

Never thought I’d see this fucking bastard again, but now he’s right here, in front of me, threatening my friend, and the injustice of it all—him abandoning his kids, never even telling them the truth, never helping them out—has been eating at me for years.

“You put a hand on me, boy,” Jasper says, and I wanna laugh at being called a boy, but grit my teeth instead, “and I’ll have these two break your bones one by one.”

His goons are flanking him now, and I eye them, taking stock of the threat they pose. They’re heavy-set, mean-looking, rat-faced little fuckers.

This could be a problem, a small voice in the back of my head says. But my fury isn’t listening.

“Matt, don’t,” Evan says, but his voice is drowned out by the blood rushing in my ears, a dull roar. “He’s not worth it, man. He can’t stop me from leaving town.”

I’m already heading toward the gate, and I swear if fucking Jasper speaks another word, I’ll just vault over the goddamn fence and beat him bloody right then and there.

But a small touch on my back stops me. “Matt… Stop.”

Fuck.

I spin around on my heel. Octavia is standing there, wrapped in her cardigan, her hair tumbling around her face, her eyes frightened. When did she come out of the house? I hadn’t noticed—hadn’t noticed anything but Jasper’s threat.

“Tay…”

“He’s my father. Don’t….” She swallows hard. “Don’t get into a fight with him, please.”

“He never acted like your goddamn father.”

“He hasn’t,” she agrees.

“So you’re protecting him anyway? Like you wanna do with Ross?”

“No.” She lifts her chin. “He’s not worth getting hurt over. And he will hurt you, like he did with us. He doesn’t give a damn either way. But I do.” She lifts a hand, places it over my pounding heart, her gaze clear and true. “I won’t see you hurt. Ignore the jackass.”

Christ. My blood is humming with the rush of adrenaline. The urge to put my fist through his hated face has my muscles tight and trembling. “Fine. Okay.”

“How touching,” Jasper mocks, and it takes all of my willpower not to turn around and do exactly what I’d been about to do when Octavia stopped me. “She has you by the leash, huh? By the balls. Pussy-whipped, like your friend here, both of you stuck with kids you didn’t want—”

The world turns red.

“What did you say, asshole?” I’m shrugging off Octavia’s hand, marching at him, vaulting the fence, grabbing him by the front of his dirty sweater. “My kids are everything to me. I lost their mother, I didn’t leave her for no good fucking reason, like you did.”

Someone is dragging me off him, blunt fingertips digging into my arms and shoulders, yanking me away.

I turn and shove them away, pulling back my fist to deliver a punch to the ugly mug of the first of Jasper’s thugs, but Octavia calls my name, distracting me for a precious second.

The swipe of a foot under mine drops me, and I land on my back, gasping at the fire racing up my spine to my head. A fist descends on my face, snapping my head to the side, and a punch to my plexus leaves me without air, trying to curl around the pain.

Fuck.

Before the guy can land another punch, I roll and get to my feet, warily, keeping my hands loose, ready to let my fist fly into the face of anyone approaching me. I lick blood off my lips. My jaw is already swelling.

The thugs fall back. Jasper shoots me a hard look.

“I think it’s high time you took your dickhead thugs and left,” I inform him. “And let me tell you, if you even think about approaching this house, if you ever come near Octavia or Evan again, I’ll not only smash your face in, but cal

l the police on your ass so fast you won’t know what hit you.”

“That so?” Jasper mutters. “Get him, guys.”