Page 11 of If You Leave


  attitude than brains. I know that for a fact. I stomped him into the ground when he went after Mila, but he wouldn’t stay down. I think it’s his pride, to be honest. If someone attacks his pride, he gets crazy. And in his eyes, your sister attacked his pride by breaking up with him. And then you embarrassed him at the Hill.”

  I nod. I’m sure he’s right.

  Pax continues. “So in all honesty, you might want to watch your back. He’s an unbalanced dumbass. But he’s a predictable unbalanced dumbass. He goes to the Bear’s Den downtown every day for lunch—and then he hangs out there pretty much every night. I don’t suppose you’re in the mood for a hamburger, are you?”

  I stare at him in surprise at the abrupt change of topic. “Uh, I guess. I could always eat a burger.”

  Pax grins. “Good. Because the Bear’s Den makes the best burgers in town.”

  I grin back, handing the bar to him.

  “Oh. In that case, I’m starving.”

  We hit the showers and as we’re getting dressed, I say, “So I heard you broke Jared’s hand that night.”

  Pax grins. “I should’ve broken both of them,” he says, yanking a gray T-shirt down over his heavily muscled torso. “That prick seriously needs to learn a lesson.”

  “Agreed,” I tell him as I grab my bag. I follow him out to his car, a mint-condition 1968 black Dodge Charger.

  “Sweet car,” I tell him in appreciation. “I have a new Camaro, but I tell ya, I’ve always loved these classics.”

  Pax looks up and grins proudly. “Thanks. I’ve had it for years. It takes a lot of maintenance and breaks down more often than it runs, but I fucking love these pipes. Get in. I’ll drive.”

  The Bear’s Den is almost close enough to walk to, but it’s a hell of a lot more fun in the Charger. Pax revs the engine as we drive downtown, turning the heads of people on the sidewalk. He doesn’t even look at them as he pulls into a parking spot and we head into the darkened bar. I glance around, but don’t spot anyone vaguely familiar.

  “He’s not here yet,” Pax confirms. “But let’s order our food and wait. Trust me, he’ll be here. That fucking loser practically lives here.”

  We each order a burger and a beer, sitting down in a back booth. I watch the door as we talk. Pax asks me questions about being a Ranger and I answer them as best I can.

  “It was something I always knew I wanted to do,” I tell him. “From the time I was a kid.”

  “Then why did you retire so young?” Pax asks curiously.

  It’s a question that I ought to be used to because everyone asks it. I ought to have a canned answer ready, but I don’t. So each time someone asks, it hits me in the gut and I flounder for a second, trying to decide what to say.

  “People don’t realize what it’s really like over there,” I tell him. “It’s fucking brutal. I can handle brutal, but one night, shit got really fucking real and a good friend died in the process. Brand and I came out of it alive, but it totally messed us up.”

  “Dude.” Pax looks at me seriously and somewhat uncomfortably. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know. I respect the hell out of what you did as a Ranger. I know you probably don’t want to talk about it and God knows I hate to talk about shit, but I’m always up for a beer if you want one.”

  I smile and gulp my beer. “Thanks. I hate to talk about shit too. I mean, what the hell’s the point? People can’t understand when they haven’t lived through something like that.”

  Pax stares at me again, then looks down at his hand. He’s got a jagged scar on his thumb in the shape of an X and I stare at it too, wondering about its significance.

  “You’d be surprised at what people understand.”

  He takes another swig of his beer, then looks at the door in satisfaction.

  “Look who just walked in.”

  I glance up to find Jared swaggering into the bar. His clothes are sweaty and dirty and it’s obvious that he’s on his lunch break.

  He orders, then makes his way to the bathroom, presumably to wash up. Pax jerks his head in that direction as he gets up.

  “I’ll watch the door,” he says quietly. “Unless you need me?”

  I chuckle. “No, I’ve got it.”

  I follow Pax to the bathroom. When we get there, he stands to the side and lets me pass. The bartender meets my gaze for just a moment, but then looks away. He’s not going to interfere.

  An almost euphoric feeling comes over me as I enter the bathroom and look around. The rush of adrenaline pulsing through me right now is an old welcome friend. I haven’t felt like this since I left the Rangers.

  I wait patiently behind him while the dumbass uses the urinal and then washes his hands. When he turns around at the sink, I bury my fingers in his neck and slam him hard against the bathroom stall.

  “What the fuck?” he manages to say, his face registering surprise. And fear. Good, because he should fear me.

  At his words I clench my hand tighter into his trachea, hard enough that he can no longer speak, hard enough that I can feel the cartilage rings in his windpipe. He struggles to swallow against the pads of my fingers and I smile.

  “Quit talking,” I tell him. “And listen. I thought I told you to leave my sister alone. If you keep harassing her, I will fuck you up. If I see you lurking around her house, parked on our street or anywhere within a mile radius of her, I will rip your spine out and feed it to you, bone by bone. You must be too stupid to understand English, because I already told you once. This is twice. I won’t tell you a third time. I don’t like dumbasses. I especially don’t like dumbasses who fuck with my sister.”

  I jerk my knee up into his gut and he grunts, his eyes shooting daggers at me.

  “I’m not fucking around. Leave her alone. Got it?”

  He nods and I release him. He immediately rubs at his neck and glares at me again.

  “Your sister is a lying whore,” he snarls. “I haven’t seen her since the other night.”

  Without missing a beat, I slam his face into the lip of the sink. As I yank him back up by the hair, his mouth gushes stringy red saliva.

  “You’re a fucking prick,” he rasps, spitting out a bloody tooth.

  I nod. “I know. But I warned you what would happen if you called my sister a whore again. Leave her the fuck alone. This is the last time I tell you.”

  I turn to leave, and Jared lunges at me from behind. I easily grab his arm and throw him over my head and into the wall. He slides to the ground, heaving as he glares up at me.

  “Don’t fuck with me again,” I tell him. “And don’t fuck with Jacey.”

  “Fuck you,” he mutters, but I ignore it.

  I walk out and leave him on the bathroom floor.

  Pax looks at me. “Taken care of?”

  I nod. “For now. If he tries anything else, I’ll fuck him up for real. He might be a slow learner, but he’s gotta learn sometime.”

  Pax shakes his head. “What a dumbass. Did he come at you? I heard the crash.”

  “Yep. From behind.”

  Pax shakes his head again.

  “Fucking pussy,” he mutters. “He’s a waste of oxygen.”

  He focuses on his phone, then looks at me. “Mila just texted me. Her art shop is just down the street. She locked her keys in her car. Do you mind if we stop there on the way back to your car?”

  “Of course not,” I tell him. We toss some bills down to cover our lunches and walk back out into the sunshine. Mila’s shop is literally fifty paces from the Bear’s Den and her face lights up when we walk in and she sees her husband.

  She’s standing on a stepladder wearing a paint smock, hanging a painting on a thin steel cord. Pax immediately grumbles and heads for her, holding her legs to steady her.

  “Mila, for fuck’s sake. Get the hell off the ladder. You’re going to break your neck.”

  She just smiles and shakes her head as she climbs down, ignoring his extended hand.

  “Pax. Seriously. I’m pregnant, not sick or crip
pled. It’s OK.” She turns to me, rolling her eyes good-naturedly. “Well, well. Gabriel. It’s so nice to see you again.” She looks from Pax to me curiously. “This is strange. Why are you two together?”

  Pax grins. “What? Am I so unlikable that I can’t make friends?”

  Mila laughs. “You’re not unlikable. You’re overprotective. And of course you can make friends. You’re charming. You just don’t realize it.”

  He waggles his eyebrows. “Oh, I realize it, baby.”

  Mila giggles and turns to me. “Thank you, guys, for coming to unlock my car. I have pregnancy brain. I’m so forgetful. No one told me that it would affect my memory too.”

  It’s Pax’s turn to roll his eyes.

  “Babe, let’s just face it. Your memory was never good. You can blame heartburn on the baby, gas on the baby, weight gain on the baby… but you really can’t blame your bad memory on the poor thing.”

  Mila blushes and slaps at his arm. “Pax, seriously. I don’t have gas. I’m a delicate flower.”

  He rolls his eyes again. “Whatever you say, sweet. You fart with the best of ’em in your sleep. Just sayin’.”

  “Oh my God.” Mila blushes darker. “I’m going to pretend you didn’t just say that in front of someone.” She turns to me again. “Just keep in mind that I’m pregnant, Gabe. It does horrible things to the body.” She grins charmingly. “What brings you back to Angel Bay? I thought you lived in Chicago. ”

  I decide that small-town people have no compunction whatsoever about asking nosy questions and that I shouldn’t be annoyed. It would be impossible to be annoyed with Mila Tate anyway. She’s as genuine a person as I’ve ever met.

  “No, I’m here to stay for a while. Jacey’s having a problem with an ex-boyfriend and I’m here as her security detail.”

  “Yeah, babe. Jared Markson is still fucking with them, even after that scene at the Hill the other night. I told Gabriel how you aren’t a fan of the guy either,” Pax says as he wraps an arm around his wife. “And I told him why.”

  Mila raises an eyebrow. “So you told him that you broke Jared’s hand?”

  Pax grins smugly. “Yep. And how I wish I’d broken them both.”

  “That might have made things easier,” I answer wryly. “But whatever. I’ll take care of it. He’ll wish he hadn’t messed with Jacey, I can promise you that.”

  “Well, just be careful,” Mila cautions me, her face concerned. “He used to be a pretty decent guy, back in high school. But he’s got a problem with alcohol and it makes him mean. He’s not worth you getting hurt or into trouble. Trust me on that.”

  I smile at her. “Don’t worry. I won’t get hurt. And I won’t get caught.”

  Pax grins at me. “That’s what I’m talking about. If you need help, let me know. I’m still holding a grudge.”

  While Mila asks us to not personally get involved with Jared, to call the police instead, the bells over the shop door jingle and we all turn to find Madison walking in.

  She looks drop-dead gorgeous in a slim skirt that hugs her swaying hips, and knee-high tan boots.

  She’s smoking hot. And surprised as hell to find me here. She’s got that deer-caught-in-the-headlights look and I have to chuckle at it.

  “Hey, Madison,” I can’t help but say. “It’s so nice to see you.”

  I’m taunting her and she knows it. I can see her face freeze up, then relax as she consciously makes the effort to hide her surprise. It’s an effort that amuses me.

  “It’s so nice to see you too,” she tells me as she strolls through the shop toward us. “Are you an art collector? Or an artist? My sister sells art and art supplies, so either way, you’re in the right place.”

  “Oh, I’m just out for lunch with Pax,” I tell her. “And Mila locked her keys in her car, so Pax came to save the day.”

  Madison glances at Mila. “Pregnancy brain?”

  Pax rolls his eyes at me. “It’s a conspiracy. There’s no such thing.”

  I chuckle as Mila protests, but she abruptly stops and sniffs at the air.

  “Something smells good.” She continues to sniff toward Madison.

  Madison shakes her head and hands Mila a bag. “You’ve seriously got the nose of a bloodhound now. It’s soup. Tony said to eat it all or he will come over here and spoon-feed it to you. He said it doesn’t matter if your morning sickness is back or not, you’ve still got to eat. And he’s right.”

  Mila takes it and glances at me. “Tony is the bartender at the Hill. He’s been with us forever and he’s a little protective of my sister and me.”

  “You could say that,” Pax says under his breath. To me he says, “He threatened to break my kneecaps if I ever mistreated Mila.”

  I smile because Tony seems like my kind of guy.

  “I’m sorry,” I tell Mila. “I’ve gotta respect that, though.”

  Mila rolls her eyes. “Men.” But she obediently pulls out the Styrofoam container of soup and sniffs at it. “Eating this will be such a hardship.” She grins and spoons some into her mouth. “Very hard.”

  Mila continues eating while Pax goes outside to unlock her SUV. While he does, I can’t help but stare at Madison discreetly.

  I’ve never seen such a beautiful woman in person before. She seems like she stepped right out of the pages of a magazine. I can’t tell if she knows how gorgeous she is. Most women know and use it to their every advantage. But Madison doesn’t seem to play that card. She seems to rely on her prickly personality instead.

  Unfortunately she notices my covert gaze and the corner of her mouth turns up.

  “See something you like?” she asks quietly. I grin back.

  “I was just noticing the difference between you and your sister. You don’t look a lot alike. Mila’s small and dark, and you’re tall and pale.”

  When Madison’s cheeks flush, I realize that I could’ve used more tact. She might be self-conscious about the fact that she’s bigger than her sister. Women are weird about that shit. But honestly, she’s taller. She’s willowy, like a model.

  “No offense,” I tell her. “It was just an observation.”

  “None taken,” she lies. I know it’s a lie by the way her cheeks are still stained pink. In fact, the flush has spread down to her chest.

  I’m saved by the bells on the door, though, as Pax returns, tossing Mila’s keys to her.

  “All fixed,” he tells her. “Good thing I have an extra key. You’re good to go, pregnant brain.”

  She shakes her head, but thanks him. “There is one more thing before you go,” she mentions. “Could you move some boxes for me in the back? Supplies came this morning.”

  Pax stares at her in surprise. “Good lord. Have all of my lectures finally paid off? Thank you for not trying to move them yourself, for once.”

  Mila smiles gently, but as they walk away she turns and mouths Overprotective as she points to Pax’s back. Madison grins.

  “He is overprotective,” she tells me as the other two disappear into a back room. “But it’s sweet. I never thought Pax had it in him when I first met him. He’s like a different person. He had sort of a shitty childhood, but he’s going to be a great dad. Speaking of him, though, I didn’t realize that you were friends.”

  “We ran into each other at the gym this morning. And then we had a little run-in with Jared over lunch. Pax had my back again, which I appreciate. He’s a stand-up guy,” I answer. “I should’ve asked him if he served. He seems like that kind of guy.”

  Madison practically chokes. “Served? As in the military? Um, no. Pax used to be kind of messed up. The military wasn’t something that would have appealed to him.”

  I eye her. “Messed up?”

  Madison stares at me, her blue eyes very dark and instantly troubled.

  “Yeah. When he was seven, his mom was killed in front of him. It messed him up pretty bad. For years he couldn’t even remember exactly what happened. That’s how bad it was. I thought he was beyond saving, but Mila did
n’t give up. She sees the good in people better than I do. And she was right. Pax came through it just fine. Eventually.”

  I stare at her in horror. His own mother was killed in front of him? I thought I’d seen some shit.

  “Damn,” I answer. “That’s terrible. That scar on his hand… was that part of it?”

  Madison nods. “Yeah.” She suddenly looks uncomfortable. “I’m sorry. This is his story to tell. I don’t feel like I should talk about it.”

  I nod slowly. “That’s fine. He might share it himself sometime over a beer.”

  Madison actually looks guilty as she curls into a red chair. “He might, and if he does, good for him. He got counseling last year when all of his memories came to light. But I’m a big believer that you can’t talk things out too much. The more the better.”

  I cringe at that as I take the chair next to her, because I strongly disagree. I don’t see the point in talking about shit. People can’t fix what happened to you.

  “Let’s change the subject,” I suggest. “How’s your boyfriend? Did he get his candy-ass pants cleaned?”

  She stares at me solemnly, but the corner of her lip is twitching again, making me wonder why. Is she glad I asked about that guy? Is this a game of cat and mouse?