Heads poked out of office doors in curiosity as Rachael ran toward the stairs. They dismissed her and the yelling, choosing their own safety. She flew down the steps, Jake’s voice becoming clearer and louder as she neared the bottom. She stopped on a landing that overlooked the plant.
Fuck. Jake and Hank were squared-off in the center of the floor, circling each other. Hank’s face looked contorted from rage and was redder than the slabs of beef laid out on a nearby table. Butchers stood beside their tables and watched, their work forgotten. Some shouted Hank’s name, but Rachael noted more than a few cheered Jake on.
“We’re gonna finish what you started, asshole!” Hank roared.
Jake’s expression looked no more put-out than if he’d been walking through a park and a squirrel stopped in his path. He held his hands up, palms out. “You really think this is the place for that, friend?”
“I ain’t your fucking friend,friend,” Hank spit out. “I am your foreman. I am your boss. I am your fucking god, asshole.”
“Actually, I answer to Mr. Deal, and I can only wonder what he’d think of the things you said about both him and his daughter the other night at Muddy’s.” Jake’s casual smile turned darker as they continued to circle. “Especially about Rachael. I know I’d be ready to kick the shit out of you, were I him.” The corner of his mouth quirked up. “Just like I did right there and then.”
Rachael covered her mouth. Jake had defended her to Hank? She looked closer at Hank’s face. Under the red and the rage face, she saw the swelling and slightly darker bruised areas.
“No,” she said, too quietly for anyone to hear. Even as her heart leaped at the idea of a protector, she didn’t want Jake in any deeper, she didn’t want to see him hurt on her behalf. Or worse, to see him change back into the person he’d said he was in California, one who went to jail when his temper got out of control.
Wait. Jake looked calm, exceedingly so. This was a guy with anger issues?
“Motherfucker!” Hank charged Jake like one of the penned steers outside. Jake reached out, grabbed Hank by the shoulder and waist, and used his momentum to send him into the head table. Men scattered as severed cow’s heads crashed down on him, covering Hank with blood and gore. He picked one up and threw it at Jake, who caught it like hell’s own medicine ball and slammed it back into Hank’s gut.
Rachael’s head swam with what she just saw. Hardly faint-of-heart after years of working in the plant, this was still beyond the pale. She looked away—only to see her father watching the spectacle from the stair landing directly across from hers on the other side of the factory floor. His pompous stance and the look of bloodlust on his face, made Rachael think of some ancient Caesar presiding over the Colosseum, ready to condemn a man to death with a gesture.
As if he felt her eyes on him, Daddy looked up and captured Rachael’s gaze. His expression went blank, then his lips curved into a mysterious smile. Her stomach plummeted and she gripped the banister to keep from sinking with it.
“I’ve made my point and I’m done.” Jake said. His voice carried over the floor, louder and more commanding than Rachael had ever heard. “I don’t want to cause any more damage to Mr. Deal’s property.” He wiped his bloody hands on his white uniform and offered a hand to help Hank up.
What the hell are you doing? Rachael wanted to scream. Too late, Hank grabbed Jake’s hand and tried to pull him down. Instead, Jake’s other fist connected with Hank’s jaw, knocking him unconscious. Jake looked around and shouted, “Someone got a first aid kit for this loser?”
“That’s not necessary.” Daddy Deal’s voice boomed down from on-high. “We don’t treat ex-employees here.” Daddy Deal clapped his hands together. “The rest of you, back to work. We need to be processing fifteen hundred an hour and that doesn’t get done by gawking. Terrance, you take out the trash.” Daddy pointed to Hank, and Rachael watched Terrance, one of Daddy’s bigger lackeys, sprint across the floor. He pulled Hank up under his pits, which helped rouse him somewhat, then dragged him toward the front entrance.
“Jake Spiro, to my office. Please.”
Jake nodded at Daddy, who turned and started up the steps. Jake unzipped and stepped out of his bloodstained coveralls—no one dirtied up Daddy Deal’s personal space—and jogged toward the back steps like an athlete coming off the field after a winning game. Halfway up the first flight, he saw Rachael on the front staircase and slowed. His look of satisfaction intensified as he lifted his chin in acknowledgement.
Rachael’s insides swarmed with mixed emotions. Here was this good man risking his job, his fresh start, by defending her honor after barely knowing her, now going up to talk to her father, knowing that he’d probably just secured himself a position as Daddy’s new enforcer. And, he was proud about it—happy even—to be looking at that vicious prospect. Which Jake Spiro was he—a good man, or a thug?
It didn’t matter, Rachael decided. Either way, he wasn’t for her anymore. She shook her head and mouthed the word, “No.”
Then she watched the man she’d dared to dream could be hers, deflate. His face fell and he shook his head.
Was there a chance? As much as she wanted him, the answer was still no. She couldn’t allow him any further into her heart. If he was as bad as Hank, she didn’t need him. And if he was a good man, willing to give this opportunity up for her, then that was worse. She’d only tie him down here. And eventually, good or bad, he’d belong to Daddy as much as everyone else did.
Maybe even as much as she did.
Rachael stepped back from the landing railing. Without another look at Jake, she climbed the stairs to barricade herself into her office.
Fifteen
Jake should have been happier as he climbed the steps to Daddy Deal’s office.
Everything had gone to plan—he’d usurped Hank’s position and gotten him fired, making Rachael’s workday a hell of a lot safer, both because Hank was gone and because Jake had redirected the asshole’s hostility toward himself and away from her. He’d gained (he hoped) Daddy Deal’s respect, and was about to record a very interesting and incriminating conversation about Jake’s upcoming promotion (more hope there).
Even Rachael’s reaction to the fight was a positive. Seeing her upset and suspecting the reason for it ticked more boxes in the ‘Innocent’ column in his head. He couldn’t pretend anymore, not even to himself, that he wasn’t falling head-over-heels for this woman, and that he would do everything he could to free his angel from hell.
He should have been overjoyed—but it killed him that he’d hurt Rachael. She didn’t deserve that after a life full of being put down and disappointed, abandoned by people who should have loved her. Jake hated that he’d led her to believe he truly was an asshole with anger-issues. Even though he’d convince her otherwise and make it up to her a thousand-fold, starting tonight, regret burned in the pit of his stomach. Fear joined it; what if he couldn’t win her back, convince her he was the good man she wanted—needed—in her life, now and forever?
Jake imagined his dad’s wise voice:Son, don’t buy future worries and what-ifs. Time to focus.
He put on a humble tone as he knocked on Ernest Deal’s open office door. “You wanted to see me, sir?”
