This isn’t like the fight night or all those mornings in the gym. This is Jagger Harden with no restraint, and, I repeat, holy shit.
Grabbing hold of Ethan’s collar, Jagger pins him against the opposite wall with his forearm digging into Ethan’s esophagus. A mottled red spreads across Ethan’s face, but Jagger’s hold stays firm. He’s not out of control. Actually, it’s the opposite. His attention is so pointed, so laser-focused, there could be a hurricane outside, and it still wouldn’t break his concentration.
Double shit. If I don’t do something, he might honestly kill him.
“Jagger,” I beg. The tendons in his neck jump, but he doesn’t release his hold. “Pretty sure murder would put a damper on your internship,” I add, determined to get through to him.
“Worth it.” He presses harder into Ethan’s throat. “Get out.”
Ethan shakes his head, his fingers clawing against Jagger’s forearm.
Jagger slams his free hand into Ethan’s gut. “Get. Out.”
Ethan’s glare wavers, the lack of oxygen making things a little difficult for him to stand his ground until he finally caves and drops his hands, surrendering.
The pressure on Ethan’s throat disappears instantly as Jagger steps back, though I don’t miss the way he steps closer to me, shielding me with his body as he continues his face-off witha beat-up Ethan. “If you show your face in here again, I’ll kill you.”
“This is public?—”
“You’re in Harden territory,” Jagger growls. “The air you’re breathing belongs to me.” He flexes his hands at his sides. “Now, get the hell out of here before I throw you out myself.”
Wiping the blood with the back of his hand, Ethan sets a key onto the counter, his eyes holding mine. “In case you change your mind.” Then, he stumbles away.
The bell on the door rings out his departure, and my arms circle Jagger in an instant. I press myself against him, burrowing into his chest as fear and relief battle for the spotlight.
Holy shit. Okay, I’ve been in a shady situation or two, but this? This is definitely in the top three most terrifying moments of my life. If Jagger hadn’t shown up, I don’t know what I would’ve done. I don’t know what Ethan would’ve done, either. And that’s the scariest part of all.
My thoughts feel like a chaotic mess as I stumble through my words, searching for an explanation. “Jagger, what are you—? How are you?—?”
“Are you okay?” he demands. His hands find my waist, squeezing me like a boa constrictor until he pulls away so he can assess me. His hands roam my face, neck, and shoulders, checking every inch of me as he demands, “Did he touch you?”
I shake my head. “No.”
“You sure? Because when I walked in?—”
“He was being an ass, but you intervened before he could do anything crazy.” It isn’t a lie. Sure, Ethan hadn’t crossed an actual line and gotten physical, but would he have? Could he have, considering the counter between us? Honestly, I’m not sure, and I don’t want to know, either. Better men have been known to take advantage of a situation similar to this, and Ethan is no saint. The thought alone makes me sick.
“You’re shaking,” Jagger murmurs against the top of my head. “Come here. Take a seat.” Guiding me toward an empty table, I sit down, and he kneels in front of me, cupping both sides of my head.
“I’m fine.” I lean into his palms, soaking up his warmth. He’s here. I’m not alone. I’m okay, and he’s okay. Everything’s okay. “Just a little caught off guard,” I decide, analyzing my feelings. “Not exactly how I imagined my morning would turn out.” The adrenaline seeps out of me, and I let out a long breath. “How are you? Are you okay?” Reaching up, I lower his hands so I can inspect the damage from the bare-knuckled brawl. His hands are bruised and bloodied, though I’m not sure if the crimson belongs to him or Lexie’s older brother. “I’m pretty sure we have a first aid kit in the back?—”
“Don’t bother,” he says. “This is nothing.”
My gaze flicks to his. “Jagger.”
“Violet.” The corner of his mouth curves up as he mimics my tone. When I back down, he adds, “I’m fine. Seriously. Just glad I was here.”
“Me, too.” I take another deep breath, refusing to imagine the alternative while Jagger’s calloused fingertips play with my own. “How did you know?”
“A few of my buddies have been keeping an eye on him. When they called, saying he pulled up to The Bean Scene, I figured it would be a good idea to stop by.”
A good idea? Yeah, I’d say so. It’s like a whirlwind. The entire thing. The conversation, his stupid comment about wanting something sweet, then the fight and the blood and…
I form a small ‘o’ with my lips, pushing out the oxygen from my lungs. I’m okay. Jagger’s okay. Everything’s okay.
It’s. Okay.
“Thank you.” I force a smile, then let Jagger’s fingers go so I can get my hands on my apron. “That was…I mean, he’s hit onme a little here and there, but nothing crazy.” I nibble the edge of my bottom lip. “I think he was hoping it would piss you off. Him coming around here.”
