No Saint (Wild Men 6) - Page 95
“Cunt,” another one supplies.
Oh how clever.
They’re all big guys, strong, shaped by our line of work and stupid fist fights, though I know for a fact they also lift weights to impress chicks.
But I’m just as big as they are. I may not have huge bulging muscles like the Hulk, but I’m damn strong. I had to be, growing up and surviving to today.
“Just give in, Ross,” Alan sneers. “Give up. You can’t take us all on.”
“Give in. Let go. Why don’t you die already?”
But the voices in my head hold less sway today. Maybe it’s the night I spent with my girl, maybe it was defying death yesterday, but I grin savagely at them and lift my chin in invitation.
“Bring it on, asswipe.” I shake my fist at him, still grinning like a skull. “We’ll see what happens.”
And I do take them on. They fall on me like vultures, but hey, look at that, I’m fighting back. They sure didn’t expect that, and I’m felling them like trees.
They forgot I know how to hold my own in the fight. It hasn’t been all that long since I gave up, fuckers. And now I’m back and they have no clue what to do with me. Yeah, I don’t roll over and let them kick me senseless anymore.
I dish out punches and kicks until the chorus of moans and curses fills my ears, louder than the pounding of my heart. I dodge and spin and hit right and left until my vision is edged with black, the still aching slashes under my ribs burning, my wrenched right arm heavy and painful. But adrenaline is a great thing, and it muffles the pain, filling me with energy.
Alan is taking this very personally, judging from the amount of profanity spewing from him.
“Kiss your momma with that mouth?” I kick him, taking his feet from under him and have the satisfaction of seeing him landing on his face. “Better go wash it before you head home to have your diaper changed.”
It’s not an easy victory. It’s five of them, and just one of me. There’s always been just one of me, a one-man front, nobody behind me, nobody ever having my back. Same old, and I’m moving faster now, getting my second wind, using my whole body behind my punches, hitting them hard...
And it’s over. This round goes to Ross Jones, Asshole Champion of Himself and Doomed to be Alone Forever.
... or maybe not anymore? This sure feels like hope, and it looks like I’m still due to crash and burn before this is all over.
***
I should head to the garage, finish working on that piece of junk I promised to fix. Fuck knows I need the extra cash and though the garage is officially locked down, I take the occasional job fixing cars on the side.
The bus drops me off not far and I wander down the main street. In my pocket, I have the antibiotics Luna gave me and I fish them out, decide to continue taking them. To cure myself, get rid of that low-level fever, get better.
I stop when I catch sight of the rusty building, a shiver running down my spine. I remember the roof, the feeling of falling into the void.
Wincing, I turn away and take out a smoke, light up. Yeah, I will take the pills, show her that I will be here when she comes back to see me, conscious and not hovering anywhere near death, not this time. I’m no fucking coward. I can take what life dishes out. Convince her that I really slipped yesterday and wasn’t gonna off myself.
Luna has to be working, and I wanna go see her right away—then remember Jenner and my fists itch to get some more workout even as new bruises are making themselves known as muscles cool down and the adrenaline ebbs.
The diner isn’t far, and my steps turn automatically. I stop outside the window and look inside. No Jenner today. I don’t see Luna either, and I rub the back of my neck, wondering if I should go in or go home.
Taking out my phone, I shoot her off a text. ‘Wanna hang out tonight?’
Her answer comes quickly. ‘Your place?’
My place.
I guess it is, at that. ‘Yeah.’
The reply doesn’t come right away and I find myself sweating. Fuck, this girl. I’m
pussy-whipped, it’s official.
Then, ‘Be there in two hours,’ and the hammering in my chest goes down a notch.
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