Jack And Crush Read online

  Her dad always said she’d take in any stray, and that was still true.

  “Lillian?”

  “In here, Mom!”

  Carol came into the office, frowning as she saw Lillie working. “What are you doing in this dusty office? You’re so young, shouldn’t you be outside enjoying the sunshine and crisp air, or something interesting?” Carol was a first-grade teacher in her mid-forties with soft blonde waves that brushed her shoulders and caramel colored eyes.

  “Mom, I’m going over the invoice for the order that’s due any minute. I don’t have time to be outside.” Though she loved her mom, Lillie thought she was clueless as to how a business ran, hence Lillie taking it over.

  “Oh. Were you planning on meeting the vendor all by yourself?” Carol’s delicate brows were drawn together and she bit her lower lip.

  Ah, yes. Lillie was supposed to be a damsel in distress. “Yeah, Mom, I always do. It’s no big deal.” Lillie was starting to feel frustrated. She knew her mom was smart, but she was also incredibly naïve. She’d grown up in Abbott like most residents, and she’d been coddled by her parents and then her husband. She knew nothing about finances, inventory, or stock.

  “What if the delivery man isn’t a nice guy? What would you do if he tried to touch you inappropriately?” That was the same conversation they’d had over and over since Lillie started running the place. Carol thought Lillie was too fragile to handle the business alone because in her mind Lillie needed a man to be the brains and the brawn. That was how Carol’s parents had raised her.

  “Mom, I can take care of myself. Daddy taught me well. Just ask Brody,” Lillie added with a chuckle. She still got a laugh out of the look on his face as he dropped to the dirt.

  “Now, Lillie, that boy has been nothing but lovely to you. Why do you antagonize him?” There she went with full on mom-mode with the hands on the hips.

  “Well, maybe if he wasn’t manhandling me and calling me a whore, I would agree with you.” Carol loved Brody and thought he could do no wrong. That was because he sucked up to her and acted like the finest gentleman in her presence, so she thought Lillie was exaggerating.

  “Lillie, if you would not flaunt other men in his face—”

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa, stop right there! There is never an acceptable time for a man to call a woman a whore.” The bell at the delivery entrance rang, saving her. “Don’t you have paper stars or turkeys to cut out for your class?”

  Carol narrowed her eyes before kissing Lillie on the forehead. It was a mother’s right to worry about her daughter. “I love you, and I will always look out for you.”

  “I love you, but I wish you’d realize I can look out for myself.” Lillie stood with her invoice and her clipboard, hoping Carol would take the hint and go.

  “There’s a difference between leaning on someone and supporting each other.” With that, Carol left through the employee door and Lillie went to the delivery door to answer the bell as it rang again.

  As the month wore on, it would be safe to say Fletcher was going through the stages of something. Grief, maybe. Shock had come first, standing in that room and not being sure what the hell was going on. Then denial, where he insisted Ava had done nothing wrong when speaking to his parents. Anger with his family when they persistently asked what happened, how it happened, and how he handled it. Fletcher knew they were concerned for him, but he argued with them still.

  Bargaining was shameful in the way that he went about it. He tried to talk to Ava after a few weeks, tried to pretend that they could work past their problems. Fletcher told her he would forgive her if he could be sure she’d never do it again. The saddest part of all was that she didn’t even care. She was tired of hiding her relationship with Jax, she said. It was time to go public, to break off their engagement and let her live her life. She just wanted a chance at happiness.

  Apparently, it didn’t matter what would make Fletcher happy. Serving the country, helping to keep her safe on a daily basis, was secondary to her need to have fun, to go out, and to have sex on that same daily basis.

  There was a crushing guilt over the fact that he wasn’t able to keep her happy. He knew, in some part of him, that it was illogical, considering that she knew what she signed up for a long time ago. She knew he would eventually have to go over to the Middle East, possibly for months at a time. She knew that if she wanted to live in Abbott, he’d have a long commute and they’d see less of each other.

  Then, his anger was finally turned onto the person where it belonged. How dare she date another man behind his back, going out with him in another town each time so nobody would know. Ava knew Fletcher’s family would tell her to her face what they thought of her if she was seen, that they would write him and tell him if they’d caught her. She had no right to treat him like that when he was faithful and respectful of her, even in another country.

  Somewhere in the middle of the anger, he got the idea to get drunk. He didn’t put too much thought into it, just grabbed a bottle of Jack from the local liquor store, and went back out to his car. Getting drunk and passing out in bed seemed like a good way to spend a Saturday night.

  Then, something happened. Or technically, someone.

  Just as Fletcher shut the passenger side door, he was pushed up against the car roughly. Without thinking, he jabbed his elbow back hard, then turned and swung at the guy, his fist connecting with a jaw that was as hard as concrete. Shaking his hand to clear away the pain, he looked at the person who’d shoved him.

  “I know you think you’re tough shit, but that’s my girl you’re messing with!” The other guy spat out the words, rubbing his jaw where Fletcher punched him. He turned and ran off before Fletcher could ask him who the hell he was referring to. Surely Ava didn’t have more than one boyfriend.

  Then again, he didn’t really know her, did he?

  Stunned, he stood there for a few seconds gathering his bearings. Like there was a neodymium magnet pulling him, he walked across the street to the bar instead. The sign was in red-painted wooden letters, spelling out ‘Carter’s’. Holding his breath, he opened the door and went in.

  Lillie was in the back room pulling more stock when Stella appeared in the doorway. Silently, Lillie handed Stella what she’d already collected, then grabbed several more bottles herself.

  “Busy out there,” Stella observed. Lillie raised her eyebrow, basically saying ‘no shit’.

  “It’s Saturday, so yeah.” She knew Stella was working up to something, she just wished she’d fucking say it. Stella cleared her throat, hovering in the doorway, blocking it. Lillie was losing her patience. “What the fuck, Stella. Just spit it out.”

  “Brody came in, okay? I wanted to sic Luke on him, but thought I’d get the go-ahead first.” Her dark brown eyes were worried. Lillie’s were flashing in anger.

  “No, I’ll take care of him.” Heading back up to the front, Lillie dropped off the stuff she’d picked up from the back stock, then grabbed her bat from under the bar. Swinging it above her head first, she brought it down in an arc and thwacked it hard on an empty section of the bar. It was such a satisfying sound.

  Just as predicted, the loud crack stopped the bar patrons in their tracks. The only sound to be heard was the radio blaring, which some smart soul decided to turn off right about then. Keeping the handle of the bat at hip level, Lillie swung it back and forth by her ankles as she stalked her prey.

  "Someone in this bar has been banned.” Lillie’s voice rang out in the silence. "Someone was told to stay away, or there would be consequences.” She stopped swinging, banging the business end of her stick on the wood floor. Out of the corner of her eye, Lillie spotted a familiar person standing in front of the door. Crazy tingles raced up her spine at the sight of him. Returning her full attention to the weasel in front of her, she lifted the bat, resting it on her shoulder and taking a batter’s stance.

  “Do you, or do you not, recall me telling you a few weeks ago to stay the fuck away?"

  With Brody standing at his full six-feet seven-inches, Lillie knew she wasn’t physically any match for him. However, she also knew every single person in that bar would have her back if she and the Slugger were to fail. Brody straightened his spine, but being the coward he was, he didn’t speak.

  “You need to leave. You are officially banned from my businesses, in front of witnesses, in case you forget again.” Rocking her hips a little, Lillie swung the bat in small circles over her shoulder like a batter readying for the pitch.

  “I didn’t forget," he finally spoke. “I just didn’t think you were seriously going to turn away my money.”

  The blood in her veins boiled harder at his words. “Are you implying something, Turner?”

  “Just that I’m a paying customer. Last I checked, you don’t give anything away for free.” He smirked, thinking he had her where it hurt. Brody knew Lillie struggled to meet all of her responsibilities, and that was the second time he’d insinuated that she was a whore. He just knew that he could wear her down if he tried hard enough. He wanted her back.

  She played it up. She let her eyes water a little, and her lip quivered as she dropped the bat to her side, relaxing her stance. Brody leaned closer to her as he fell for her ploy. “B-but . . .” Striking like a snake while his guard was down, she grabbed him by the gonads, twisting her wrist ruthlessly. “I don’t need your fucking money,” she shouted as he went down.

  The crowd that had mostly been silent up until then erupted.

  Some men groaned, most people cheered, and Luke Payne made his very broad presence known behind a crying Brody. Lillie nodded, and Luke grabbed Brody by his neck, shoving his bent over body out the front door.

  When she turned back to the bar, there were a handful of cheers, and she did a curtsey as the music came back up. Replacing the bat under the bartop, she caught the eye of her one night stand before he moved to sit down.

  When he’d entered the bar, Fletcher noticed immediately that it smelled better than most bars, like it was actually clean. It felt familiar to him, almost like a second home. He was drawn to a flash of black hair swinging at the other end of the bar. His gut clenched. She was gorgeous, just as he remembered. She set down a large number of bottles she’d been hugging to her, and he caught the tattoo he’d noticed the other morning. It spanned her chest from shoulder to shoulder, but he still couldn’t make out the design from that angle and distance.

  He was startled to see her pick up a baseball bat, then reflexively hunched his shoulders when the sound of wood contacting wood resounded throughout the bar. He watched, transfixed, as she swaggered her way across the room in dead silence. He could hear his own heartbeat and the sound of her boots on the floor as she approached a guy that Fletcher recognized as his would-be attacker standing arrogantly in the middle of the open area known as the dance floor.

  She was nothing short of magnificent. Fletcher moved closer, standing near a twitchy bouncer. He figured between the two of them, he could take the tall guy if he stepped out of line.

  Apparently, they weren’t needed. Lillie wasn’t afraid of Brody, and she told him in no uncertain terms to never come back. Fletcher winced when she grabbed the guy’s scrotum, then his hands went protectively to his own crotch when she twisted. She was the embodiment of fire; unpredictable, fierce, fluid, and dangerously beautiful. Fletcher wanted to make her his, but he was still uncertain how to go about that.

  The caveman was escorted out unceremoniously by the other big dude, and everything went back to normal. In the chaos, Fletcher lost sight of his bartender. Spotting a petite, tattooed woman from the back, he moved in her direction through the crowd of people at high topped tables. As he got closer, he realized that it wasn’t her. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but he knew he was right, and then she turned to face him and it was proven. She was similar in build and hair color, but her tattoos were all black and white, and she was missing the chest tattoo the other woman had. The one who’s name Fletcher still didn’t know.

  He sat down, flexing his hand again and wincing as the split skin protested. It wasn’t bad; it would bruise, but heal quickly. He was not the fistfight type, but he knew how to protect himself from his military training.

  “Can I get you some ice?” the bartender asked politely as she nodded at his hand.

  “Only if it comes in a glass of Jack.”

  Hannah laughed a bit, then poured him a glass and moved along. When she came back, she had a bar towel wrapped around a baggie of ice. “Here, might as well.”

  Just as she wrapped the ice around his knuckles, he heard, “You comin’ back for more, huh?” Her voice was warm and rich, and he was positive there was innuendo behind her words.

  “I couldn’t seem to help myself,” he replied honestly as he looked up at her.

  Her brows went up. “Oh really?” She leaned against the bar, her elbow resting on the top. He had a tantalizing view down her shirt. “What can I get ya?”

  “Just this glass of Jack. She’s got me a tab started.” He indicated the other bartender with a nod of his head.

  Lillie laughed, though he didn’t know why. “All right, Jack.”

  It was strange, it sounded like she was calling him Jack, instead of talking about his order. “Do you have a name, or should I call you Crusher?”

  “Crusher?” She sounded perplexed, so he explained.

  “Yeah, well, you crushed that guy’s balls pretty good.”

  “He had it comin’,” she said defensively.

  “I never doubted that for a minute.” He watched her as she poured someone’s drink, giving him a napkin with a flourish before returning to where Fletcher sat.

  “I’ll call you Jack, and you can call me—”

  “Crush,” he interrupted. He liked it. It rolled off his tongue.

  “Crush,” she repeated. “What happened to your hand?”

  “Same guy you just crushed shoved me against my car before I came in. I threw a punch before he walked off.”

  “Hmm, see, he deserved it,” she murmured, her brow furrowed as she examined his knuckles. Her fingers were gentle as she probed for broken bones.

  “Lee!” he heard someone call from the other end, and she looked up. Then she looked at him, an impish look on her face. Lee? That was her name?

  She left him there, went to the other woman, and helped her at the register. When she returned, she automatically poured him another glass of whiskey.

  “I’m not even done with this one yet,” he protested.

  “You will be, and I like you as Jack. Drink up.” She winked before sauntering off again.

  Chapter 3

  I know what I’m doing, I know what I’m doing, I know . . . nothing. I know nothing.

  Lillie didn’t know what the fuck she was doing. She knew that if she got him drunk, she could take him back to her house again. She knew that they would fuck and that it would be fantastic. She knew what that cock hidden in his pants looked like, and she knew what he could do with it. She wanted it, wanted him, in a way that made her ache.

  She was also afraid that if he wasn’t drunk, he’d never come near her again. It felt like taking advantage of him, and that felt dirty. She needed to know before he got smashed if she was what he wanted.

  Casually, she made her way around the bar to the tables. Lillie picked up empties, gathering them on the tray she carried. When she returned them to the bar, she walked up to Jack first, setting the tray on the bar in front of him.

  “Hey,” she said near his ear, hoping her voice sounded sexy.

  He looked up at her. A slow, crooked grin graced his face, and her heart beat faster. He smelled so good.

  “What can I do for you?” he said in that deadly smooth voice. His second glass of the night was empty.