Page 30 of My Revenant
Jonah had clearly never been in a real fight before, but he was fucking strong and he was pissed, and those things made him dangerous enough as I blocked his next hit.
“Fight!” someone yelled from further down the property, but I couldn’t spare them a glance and give Jonah another opening.
Moments later there was a crowd of people growing around us, cheering and hollering obnoxiously, and if Jonah wasn’t such a damn handful, I would have punched every single one of them too. As it was, I was mainly trying to block his hits and restrain him rather than actually fight him, but he was having none of it. Jonah wasn’t above fighting dirty. When I had his wrists pinned, he’d try to kick me or bite me instead. It was like wrestling a rabid orangutan.
“Jonah!” came a familiar screech, then a flash of orange hair and white spandex as Becca threw herself into the fray. Then a freakishly large strong hand grabbed the collar of my jacket and yanked me up by the scruff of the neck like a misbehaving kitten.
“Enough,” Henrik scolded, setting me on my feet.
Jonah was up again too, and he launched himself at me a second time, but Henrik was faster, and my rabbit coat-hangered himself on the immovable rod of Henrik’s arm, sending himself back down onto his ass.
“Jonah, stop!” Becca begged.
“We’re leaving,” Henrik informed me, a firm hand on my chest shoving me in a challenge I was sorely tempted to take on. People really had to stop fucking shoving me today. I slapped his arm away, knowing the only reason it shifted at all was because he allowed it.
“Fine.” I fixed my jacket back into place as I sneered at Jonah. “Better luck next time, Rabbit.”
“Just go!” Becca snapped at me, using what must have been all her strength to hold Jonah back from coming at me again.
As we walked back to the bikes, I wondered how long it would be before I got another chance to kiss Jonah’s lips rather than his fist.
fourteen
Jonah - Present
YOU’RE COMING WITH ME.
Despite my warnings to myself, I’d continued to hang out with Harper over the last two days. It wasn’t like I’d gone out of my way to do it, but I’d been at work and he’d come in again, so it would have been rude to ignore him. Then the next day he’d knocked on my door and asked what I was doing because he was bored. We’d gone for a walk and hung out at the dilapidated park that honestly had so many safety hazards I wondered how any decent parents would ever let their children play there. We talked about nothing in particular. Mostly Harper talked and I listened, but it felt comfortable.
It was Monday, which meant Marty would pay me today and I’d be out of here.
I never told anyone when I was leaving town, but it felt wrong to just ghost Harper, especially with the little bit I’d shared about my past. Maybe he’d think something had happened to me. I knew it wasn’t smart to care, but the decision sat in my gut like a burning coal.
Maybe just this once I could tell someone I was leaving. As long as I didn’t tell him where I was going, that should be okay.
With that in mind, I pulled my jacket on, intending to head to the small grocery store. It had a surprisingly decent baked-goods section. I’d get us both some breakfast and tell him I was leaving while weate.
I was so caught up in mentally rehearsing the conversation that I didn’t notice the stranger until my foot hit the concrete at the bottom of the motel stairs.
He wastall, with short dark hair and a dark bomber jacket. His back was to me as his face pressed against the glass on the driver’s window of Harper’s car, hands cupped to reduce the glare as he peered inside.
“You need something?” I called out to him. My heart already thundered rapidly in my chest, but I wouldn’t let it show.
The stranger didn’t seem startled at being caught snooping. Instead, he stood to his full height, which was a lot, like six-five at least. He turned to face me—tanned skin, dark eyes, a square jaw with a short beard, and dazzling white teeth that he flashed me in a wide grin as he chewed on a piece of gum.
Recognition sparked in my mind, and with it a whirlwind of other emotions. Right here in the parking lot of this shitty Hollow Creek motel was MMA superstar Benny “The Bear” Forrester. Well…formersuperstar.
“Nope. You need somethin’?” he asked, that Boston accent deep and confident.
I had to figure out how to play this. I wasn’t sure if Harper was in his room or not, and I absolutely was not letting this guy get so much as a glimpse of him. Taking on a professional MMA fighter, retired or not, was probably not the best course of action here. I guess that left talking. I fucking hated talking.
“You seem real interested in that car.” I raised my voice slightly in a way I hoped was still casual but might carry through to Harper if he was inside and awake. It was the first time I was glad for the paper-thin walls of this dump.
“Why wouldn’t I be? It’s mine,” he answered, still with that picture-perfect grin.
Fuck, Harper. That better not be the truth.
“I don’t think I believe you.”
