Page 36 of Jaxon

"Bridget, stop being so fucking unreasonable. This marriage will be good for both of us even if we never sleep in the same bed again." He stood in the way of the steps, effectively blocking me from getting down to the deck and off the boat. "And we've been talking. We need to get married fast. Possibly this weekend. We can have your big, expensive wedding later in the year, but we should get this wrapped up legally soon."

I stared at him in disbelief. "Oh 'we've' been talking, have 'we'? I wasn't any part of that crazy conversation. Who is 'we'?"

Alex pulled his gaze away rather coyly. "Your dad and mine … and me. Look, there's some things going on that you don't know about and—well—all you need to know is that we need to get married this weekend. It'll be better for all of us."

"Except me. It'll be a lot worse for me because I'm not marrying you … ever. I don't care if after the ceremony we both drive off to different sides of the country, never to see each other again, I'm still not tying myself to you in any capacity whatsoever."

"You stupid spoiled brat." His face reddened. "You don't understand." He grabbed for my hand and I tried to squeeze past him. He snatched hold of my arm and held it tightly in his grip. I stared down at the red marks his fingers were making on my skin.

"Let go. You're hurting me."

He pushed his face close to mine. "We will get married this weekend, and if this has anything to do with that tatted up asshole, then know this—he's going down. His whole fucking family is going down."

I swung my hand to slap him, but he blocked it. He gripped my arm even harder then let go with a push. My sandal slipped off the landing. I flailed my arms toward Alex, but he made no attempt to stop my fall. My cheek hit the hand railing, knocking me momentarily senseless as my right leg collapsed. My body fell forward down the metal steps. I threw my hands out and managed to flip myself up and over, landing on my feet on the bottom step. Aside from a deep cut on my right knee and the throbbing ache on my cheek, I managed to avoid any real injuries.

Alex's shadow fell over me. "Still the great gymnast," he said snidely. "I'll get you ice for that cheek."

"Don't fucking bother!"

I straightened myself up and got off the boat as fast as I could. I felt shaky and unsteady as I hurried along the uneven planks of the dock. Boats became a shiny, lacquered blur as I raced along, my eyes filled with tears as salty as the ocean breeze. I reached up and winced when my fingers landed on the tender bump forming on my cheek.

Warm blood dripped down my shin in thin rivers. The fall on solid metal steps could have been so much worse if I hadn't thrown out my hands to stop my body from hitting each step. Things had taken a turn for the worse, which stunned and sickened me because shit was already bad. I had no idea what the new push was for an immediate marriage. I'd been avoiding picking a date because I knew I wanted out of the whole engagement. Alex hadn't pushed too much until recently, but moving the marriage up to this weekend meant something was up, something that had to do with business and money—their only motive.

I considered returning home to the security of my bedroom for all of a second. I was sure if I told Dad that I fell down the steps on the boat and that Alex had a chance to grab me but didn't, he'd only tell me that I was being dramatic or exaggerating. He'd never consider siding with his daughter and sending Alex on his way. That would never even cross his mind. All I was to him was a constant source of irritation and trouble. For the longest time, I'd believed that I was just that—a constant source of irritation and trouble, but I'd finally come to realize that my dad was a monster, and my rebellious behavior was a natural response to his terrible parenting. I wanted nothing more than to be free of him and his ill-gotten gains forever.

It was at least four miles to Trayton, and I had no money for a bus. I reached for my phone, but when I pulled it out, I saw that the battery was dead. Useless. I stuck it back into my pocket. I had no choice but to walk.

The cut on my knee tried to clot, but each step broke it wide open. It kept bleeding because of the walk but I kept moving. I needed only one type of first aid. I needed Jaxon's strong arms around me.

What had started as a pink, dusky sky turned into a churning gray one about two miles into the walk. The breeze that had cooled my skin earlier morphed into a roaring, icy gale. It was exactly what I didn't need as I struggled along in my thin tank top and shorts.

The wind was bad. I doubled over and crossed my arms around myself to try and stay warm. I was still at least a mile from Trayton and the Shack when the first cold drop fell. Weather along the coast was always unpredictable, but this storm came out of nowhere and it was bad. Lightning lit up the dark gray sky. The sea churned as if it might billow up and swallow the entire coast, and rain fell from the clouds in icy sheets.

I was soaked by the time I reached the mostly dirt drive that led up to the Shack. The house looked spooky and gothic under an ominous, rainy sky. There were a few lights on inside. Jaxon's car was in the driveway. I was soaked to the bone and shivering wildly by the time I reached the door. I could hear music and loud voices coming from somewhere in the house. I knocked hard.

The door finally flew open and the face I really needed to see was on the other side. "Bridget, fuck, what the hell?" Jaxon reached out and pulled me inside.

A few familiar faces popped up from the basement stairs. "Whoa, what happened to your leg?" Crusoe asked.

The blood had mixed with rainwater making it look much worse than it was. "It's mostly rain. My leg is fine." I couldn't stop my chin from vibrating with cold. My teeth clacked together.

"Shit, Jax, get her upstairs and dry before she freezes to death," Theo said.

"That's where we're heading." Jaxon held my hand and led me up the rickety stairs. After the incident on the boat, I held onto him and onto the railing. It was a little loose and splintery, assuring me the boys never held onto that same railing.

Jaxon got me into his room and turned on the light. "I'll be right back with towels. Take off those wet clothes." He left the room and returned with two towels.

I dropped my wet shirt, shorts and underwear on the floor and allowed him to wrap me in one of the towels. He began patting me dry and, for the first time, really looked at my face. His expression turned hard and rage flamed up in his dark blue eyes.

"Who did it?" he asked in a low voice.

The cold rain had numbed my face enough that I'd nearly forgotten about my cheek. "It's not what you think. Well, I mean, not technically." I walked over to the bed and sat down with the towel wrapped around me. The cut on my knee was once again trying to clot. "He didn't hit me. I was on the boat, and we argued. Alex was holding tightly to my arm, and I wasn't expecting him to suddenly release me. I slipped off the landing on the helm. I reached out for him to grab my hand." I dropped my face. "He didn't take hold. I fell down the steps and smacked my cheek on the railing." I tried to force a smile. "The good news is I'm still a pretty fucking good gymnast." I smiled and even chuckled, but my lighter tone was not helping.

"Where is he?" Jaxon asked in a tone that sent a chill through me.

"It's all right. He's not worth it."

"Bridget—where is he? Is he on his boat?"

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