Survivor (First to Fight #2)(56)
I don’t have time to consider the implications of his statement because he straightens and points, taking the first few steps toward me, knife raised. I may be hell in the cage, but I’m no f*cking match for a psychopath armed with a blade the size of a goddamn machete.
He waves it around. “We’ve got somewhere to be, so tell her good-bye, Jack.”
Sofie’s foot jerks free of the restraint and she swings wildly, nabbing his elbow and causing the knife to skitter wide and slide out of view.
Turning back to Damian, I watch as alarm filters through his eyes. Violent, unfettered rage shoots into me and I charge for him, even as he dives in the direction of the knife. Aiming for his middle, I spear into his midsection, forcing him against the ropes only a few short feet away from Sofie, who’s now struggling to free her remaining hand.
Damian glances around with wild eyes and dodges my fist aimed for his head. He flips over the top rope and lands awkwardly on his shoulder with a grunt. I follow soon after, though he’s already starting to make his way for the knife.
I’m close, but not close enough, and his hands close around the handle before I can beat him. He swings wildly and the knife slices through the material of my jeans and splits my thigh, spawning a fierce fiery pain in its wake. I go down on one knee and try to get up, but I collapse onto my side, clutching at the deep gash in my leg.
Blood streaks the ground behind me as I drag myself across the gym floor, trying, and failing, to make it to the ring in time before Damian makes it to the ropes where Sofie’s torso is still tied. My useless leg feels like dead weight and encroaching death, but I belly crawl, grunting loudly with each foot gained, until I’m pulling myself up the ropes of the ring by sheer will.
Damian has finished untying Sofie and instead of killing her like I pictured a million times in the eternity it took to reach the ring, he’s pulling her along, aiming to escape through the door. I manage to leverage my body up into the ring and attach myself to his legs, bringing him down. Sofie stumbles back out of my line of sight and I focus on severely maiming him before he can do her any more harm.
He tackles me and and I land on my injured leg with a shout, his weight on top of me. My vision wavers and I shake my head to clear it. Damian rises up and lands a blow to my cheek that doesn’t help the vision situation.
The glint of the knife arcs up from a corner of my blurred vision and I use the last remaining vestiges of my strength to overpower him with a right hook to his temple. One or both of us knock the knife across the ring, where it lands by Sofie’s feet.
Sofie picks it up, surprisingly calm, her face a mask of rage and determination. “Last chance, pencil dick. Get the f*ck out of here and don’t come back.”
“No!” I manage to wheeze out. “Fucking run!”
She just lifts her chin and says, “He doesn’t scare me.”
If I could move, I’d f*cking beat her ass. The second I can walk, she better be able to out run me.
With one last howl, Damian lunges for her and in a fatal mistake, doesn’t take heed of my injured leg stretched out in front of him. He trips and goes down, Sofie either doesn’t have time or makes the conscious decision not to move. Either way, he lands, stomach first, on the blade, gravity driving it deep into his stomach with a sickening spray of blood.
Sofie releases her hold on the knife as momentum takes Damian down. He does one twisted spin in the air, then lands, probably already halfway dead, in the center of the ring. She’s by my side before he even hits the ground.
She lifts my head, gingerly, and places it in her lap. Smoothing away my hair, she digs in my pants pockets to find my cell phone. As she speaks with the operator, she strips off her shirt and holds it against the blood still seeping from my wound.
“Just f*cking get here,” she snaps, before tossing the phone on the ground.
“Got something…tell you,” I say.
“Shhh,” she says. “Just rest. They’re on their way.”
“Gonna sell…gym. Too dan-rous. Joinin’ ‘Rines.”
Her brows furrow. “You think reenlisting in the Marines is safer than owning a gym?”
“Never got stabbed in…’Rines.”
She shakes her head. “Shut up. We’ll talk about this when you aren’t bleeding all over me.”
“Love you,” I say.
“Stupid man,” she says, then kisses my forehead. “I love you, too.”
Six Weeks Later
I DIDN’T NEED the extra work, the promotion I’d gotten after a mere month at my new job more than covered our expenses, plus the benefits were generous, but I took it anyway to keep my hands and mind busy. Anything to quiet my mind and ease my fears.
Besides, I like the work, but most of all, I like that it allows me to work at home. I still go in to the office from time to time to talk to Anita and turn in reports, but aside from that I spend the time while Donnie and Rafe are in school in the spare room I converted to a home office.
It’s funny that I never considered myself the mothering type, but one of my favorite parts of the day now is being home when they get home from school or practice. We’ve gotten into the habit of sitting at the kitchen island with a snack and a soda, talking about their day.
I soak up each minute, listening to their stories and doling out advice. Even more surprising than my interest, is their willingness to listen. Each day isn’t perfect, but I enjoy the bad ones just as much as the good. They won’t always be here to have these moments—it’s only a few short years before they graduate and move out to go to college after all. I try to make the most out of our time together when I can, to make up for all I’ve missed.