Page 109 of Burn

Nixon’s eyes barely move, but I know Caleb has his attention this time.

“What makes you think I care?” Nixon asks, staring at Caleb, waiting for his reaction.

“Because you should care,” Caleb warns.

Nixon shrugs carelessly. “For being a man in the public services, you’d think you’d be nicer to the people paying into your Benevolent Fund. Your fire marshal grandfather might have something to say if I stop donating.”

Caleb smiles, baiting him. “Like I give a shit if you stop giving the department your dirty money, and I can fuckin’ guarantee you my grandfather would tell you to shove your money up your ass.”

“Well, shit, kid, don’t hold back.” Nixon throws his head back, laughing. “But then again, is he really your grandfather?”

And that’s when Caleb loses all control. It’s like a switch is flicked.

“Is that a question?” Caleb takes a menacing step forward, backing Nixon up against the bar, much like the night I met him and the dude he beat the shit out of. “Or are you just trying to piss me off?”

“I don’t think I’m trying,” Nixon taunts. “I think I’ve already got you pissed off.”

I’m sure Nixon could hold his own, but Caleb’s got him on height, size, and ability. He carries forty pounds of gear, hauls two-hundred-pound men over his shoulders down ten-story buildings. Nixon doesn’t stand a chance, and I think he knows that. This isn’t about some kind of tough-guy thing. He’s only here to get inside Caleb’s head.

But why?

“Got nothing to say now, huh?” Nixon taunts again, egging him on.

That does it. Caleb punches him. It happens fast. He pushes me back into Owen’s chest and then delivers a precise punch to Nixon’s jaw.

It takes him a second to gain his bearings, but once he does, Nixon attempts to fight back. Which doesn’t work in his favor, and only seems to set Caleb off further.

What am I doing?

Crying. Bar fights are scary shit.

“Just admit it, I can bring you to your fucking knees and you know it,” Nixon yells, backing up and wiping blood from his mouth with the back of his hand. Spitting to the side, he repeats the motion and stares at Caleb. “You may not be afraid of me, but you’re afraid of something.”

Caleb’s expression flares at his words but he laughs, mocking almost.

The bouncer has arrived and starts pushing the two of them apart. I get a glimpse at Caleb when he’s up against the bar, held back by Kellan and Owen.

Caleb’s expression is livid. His chest heaves with deep breaths. “You better be ready to finish this, asshole!”

“All right, boys, break it up.” The bouncer’s large hands settle on their chests, pushing, and then he steps between them. The crowd around us breaks apart slightly, watching and waiting to see where this is going.

I’m one of them. What the hell just happened? One minute I’m giving lap dances and now this? What’s happened to my life?

“I’ve got your attention now, don’t I?”

Caleb’s stance becomes protective, reaching for me and taking my hand in his, his grip a little more covetous than before. He stands tall. “You’re stupid if you think that’s going to scare me.”

I’m convinced it did get to him a little, but he’s not going to give Nixon the satisfaction.

“I’m serious,” Nixon says, his posture showing he’s ready for anything. And get this? He runs his hands over his slicked back hair like some kind of Fonzie move.

And here’s where the advantage Nixon thinks he has. Nixon’s anticipating Caleb being irrational. Nixon, though, he has patience. Something I’m being to understand Caleb lacks.

“I’m serious, too.” Caleb never lets up. “Get the fuck out of here.”

“I’m not finished with my beer.” He lifts his glass, which was still on the bar, and takes a slow drink. “I think I’ll stay.”

“Listen, you stupid fuck.” Caleb gets right in his face, towering over him by at least three inches, his hands fist in Nixon’s suit jacket just about the time the bouncer tries to get in between them. “You’re not going to win this fight. Know why? Because I have something you want.Her. She’s never going to fuckin’ suck your dick, man. Get over it and move on.”

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