Part 5 (1/2)

And they do it. Only a few feet past them, one of them calls out, ”Hey s.e.xy, why don't you come back and hang out with us?”

I grin evilly before turning around, my face now expressing innocence and a hint of fear, bait for the predators. Who's afraid of the big bad hoodlum? ”No thank you,” I answer shakily then continue walking. One, two, three. Someone grabs me from behind.

The grabber whispers in my ear, ”I think you should change your mind.”

Pretending to struggle, my voice conveys suitable panic, ”And I think you should let me go.” The thrill of giving jacka.s.ses what they deserve never gets old.

”Fine, we'll do this the hard way,” he says and drags me into an alley, with the rest of the guys following, my fear exciting them.

I'm still pretending to struggle pathetically when Jackson arrives at the entrance of the alley. Making a tsking sound, he warns them, ”Unless you all want to get your a.s.ses kicked, I suggest you let the girl go.”

”f.u.c.k off before we beat the s.h.i.+t out of you!” one of them yells at Jackson.

”You asked for it.” Jackson shrugs negligently, playing his part.

”I agree,” I say, causing the guy holding me to squeeze tighter.

Jackson brings both of his hands up in the air and lifts on leg, doing the famous The Karate Kid pose to make me laugh. His favorite movie when he was little. The thugs start laughing too and the one holding me yells, ”p.i.s.s off, punk!”

”Quit playing around Jackson, this guy smells bad,” I joke. This is so much fun.

”Ready when you are,” he says.

”Okay, but play fair this time. No cheating,” I warn him. ”Now!”

The thugs look confused until I do a back head b.u.t.t on the guy holding me. He stumbles back, screaming, ”You b.i.t.c.h!” Uh-huh, I've heard that before, in many languages.

I spin around and hit him on the nose with the heel of my hand. Then I kick him hard enough in the gut for him to fall back against the wall of the building. I walk over to where he's slouched over in a daze and grab him by his greasy hair. Kneeing him in the face, he's down for the count.

”I've got one down!” I shout out to Jackson, wiping my hand on the material of my jeans. So gross!

”No fair! The other four are all coming at me!” Jackson shouts back. Then he says in a mock-distressed voice, ”I'm scared!” The bad guys always see Jackson as more of a threat than me. Big mistake.

I take a few moments to watch my brother work. Focused, he kicks one, while backhanding another. It makes a little sister proud. Every time he gets one on the ground, another one is coming at him.

”I want to be just like you when I grow up!” I yell at Jackson, laughter in my voice.

He laughs in a short burst, starting to get tired. ”How about being like me right now?”

Sighing loudly, I act put out. ”Oh, all right, if you really need me to save you.”

”Watch this!” I shout and grab a big guy around the neck from behind, in a chokehold. I'm using my other arm to twist one of his arms behind his back. Unfortunately, that leaves his other hand free to claw at the one I'm using to choke him out. I twist his arm more, almost to the point of breaking it. When he finally pa.s.ses out from lack of oxygen less than a minute later, I let his body drop to the ground. What a weakling. Simon taught Jackson and me to hold our breath for up to two minutes. Of course, I didn't give the guy enough warning to take a deep breath. Something to try in the future . . . .

I look to where Jackson is and see another body lying on the ground. ”That's two for me and one for you.”

”Not for long.” He punches one of the guys on the side of his head. The guy lands on the ground with a loud thud. Panting, he gets out, ”Now we're tied!”

Jackson and I are both breathing hard, after the workout. We look at the last guy, who just stares back at us, looking like he's about to p.i.s.s his pants. ”Boo!” Jackson yells, pretending to lunge for him, causing the guy to turn quickly into the side of the building. The idiot runs face first into a protruding pipe and knocks himself out. Dumba.s.s.

”That's three for me! I win!” Jackson shouts, holding his arms up in the air.

”No way Jacks! That doesn't count! You didn't even touch him!” I yell, stomping my foot, clenching my fists instinctively. Hey, if that's three for Jackson and two for me, I'm more than willing to knock Jackson's a.s.s out to even the score.

Jackson saunters over and chucks me under the chin. ”Don't be a poor sport, Annie.” I notice that his white t-s.h.i.+rt is torn at the neck.

”No matter what you say it's a tie.” I stalk out of the alley, feeling him close behind. That so doesn't count. ”The guy knocked himself out! It only counts if you do it yourself!”

Jackson's walking beside me now as we head back to where we parked a few blocks away. ”Yeah, but I made him knock himself out. Good enough for me.”

”It's a tie!”

”Fine, we'll call it a tie,” Jackson says carefully.

”Okay,” I say, mollified.

Then he has to go and ruin it with, ”But, we both know that I really won.”

”Jackson!” I yell at my laughing brother, noticing that the shoelaces on his boots are untied. Who goes into a fight without tying his d.a.m.n shoes? Probably saw it as a challenge.

We walk the final block back to the car in silence, pa.s.sing by another group of thugs, but they don't mess with us. I sort of wish they would. I could use a way to let out some of the anger and annoyance that I'm feeling right now because of my cheating brother.

When we get back into the Lamborghini, miraculously still intact, I put the radio on a heavy metal station and turn it up loud. On the drive back to the hotel, whenever I glance at Jackson, he has a smug smile on his face. Knock him out, Annabelle, and that's three for you too.

When we get off the elevator onto the floor our suite is on, I'm b.i.t.c.hing Jackson out again. ”You're such a cheater! I'm never going out with you again!” Jackson rolls his eyes, knowing full well that I can never resist a little exercise.

We round the corner of the hotel hallway and a male voice says angrily, ”You shouldn't be going out with anyone else anyways.”

Leaning against the door to my hotel room is Gabriel. Oh s.h.i.+t! I quickly turn to Jackson and tell him in Russian, ”Just play along and pretend that you don't speak English.”

Jackson mutters the Russian equivalent of 'busted' under his breath.

”Who, the f.u.c.k, is he? And what are you doing with him?” Gabriel looks p.i.s.sed, green eyes flas.h.i.+ng, ready to spring forward and wring Jackson's neck. Or mine.

”Oh, he's just my friend. You remember. You saw us together at the club?” I remind him. This is a really weird situation.

”What's this about him cheating on you? It looks more like you're the one cheating on me, Anna,” Gabriel says heatedly. Jeez, even his scowl makes him look handsome, with his face all tense like that.

Stop letting your mind wander, Annabelle. ”What are you talking about?” I take on a casual stance, as if totally unconcerned by the confrontation, not guilty of any wrong-doing. Besides the vigilante justice I just dished out with my brother.

Gabriel says through clenched teeth, ”I just heard you tell him that he cheated and that you don't want to go out with him again.”

Laughing, I shake my head. ”That's what I said, but you misinterpreted it.”