Another hour passed, and I sat on the stool slowly swinging my legs, watching the two of them. I’d fully bailed out of the good-natured contention three games before, saying I’d been humiliated enough for one night. Christopher won another game while Jared won two. They drank a few more beers, their laugher and jests increasing, their banter so much like it used to be. A hum of satisfaction pulsed into every crevice of my being.
Jared had stayed and I thought maybe he was happy.
Christopher was obviously having a really good time. Probably a little too much of a good time, as his jests started verging on the edge of obnoxious. It only made me laugh. With his bottle lifted high, he polished off what had to have been his seventh beer of the night. He slammed the bottle down on the small table before he leaned in to attempt a ridiculous jump shot. He fumbled and knocked the cue ball into the side pocket.
“Ah, shit,” he yelled through his raucous laughter as he stumbled back. He knocked into a guy trying to take a shot at the table behind him. Christopher jerked around, stretched out a hand to steady the guy he’d run into. A casual apology rolled naturally from his mouth. “Hey, sorry, man.” Christopher’s grin was wide.
But the other guy was furious. His hand fisted on his cue stick, aggressive as he sneered. “What the fuck, you little prick?”
He was shorter than Christopher, but wider, older, rougher. His head was shaved or bald, I couldn’t tell. I could almost read his thoughts in his too dark eyes, the flame of aggression as he made the decision to mess with my brother. The guy liked it. Hostility dripped from his body, and he took one antagonistic step forward.
My heart pounded and my hands clenched around the seat of the stool. I hated fighting, hated when nights meant to spend unwinding turned into bad memories because sick people would rather hurt someone than let them be.
Lifting both palms, Christopher took a step back. Realization had sobered his face. This time his smile was obviously forced as he aimed to temper the situation. “Hey, man, I said I was sorry. No harm intended.”
Christopher usually got along with everyone. He was one of those people everybody wanted to hang out with. He had this charm about him that drew in the masses. He knew it, too, used it to his advantage to lure in his prey or to calm a charged situation. I’d only seen him fight a couple of times, always out of necessity, when there was no other choice. And Christopher could hold his own, no question about it. But against this guy? I wasn’t so sure.
I eased off the stool and found my footing. I slipped up behind Christopher, intent on pulling him away. None of us needed to deal with this tonight, and I just wanted to go home. Where it was safe.
“Christopher,” I said quietly as I slowly approached him, hoping to get his attention so we could get out of there.
Jared’s mouth was suddenly hot at my cheek, his large hand splayed against the opposite side of my face as he firmly held my head, demanding my attention. He uttered a low warning in my ear. “Get back, Aly. I don’t want you anywhere near this asshole.”
Then he nudged me behind him, his arm extended back to keep me at bay. He crept forward to take up Christopher’s side. A clear declaration of alliance. Jared rolled his shoulders, this checked energy vibrating through his being. His hands clenched and curled, aggression coiling through the muscles of his arms that rippled and bunched under the colors marking his skin.
Fear turned my stomach. Fear of the guy staring down my brother, staring down Jared, fear at the violence skimming along the surface of Jared’s skin, itching to be released. I could feel it, this fierce rage that emanated from Jared’s spirit, like something dark had been unleashed and set free.
I turned my concentration from Christopher to Jared, sensing where the real danger lay. I placed an urgent hand on his upper back. “Jared, please, let’s just go,” I begged, so quietly I wasn’t sure either of them could hear, their focus entirely on the guy who cracked a menacing grin.
Jared twitched and shrugged me off, fisting his hands as he cocked his head in clear provocation.
We’d collected attention. A frantic murmur of voices and eyes descended upon the scene, a rustle of morbid interest as people began to draw near.
Panic prodded at my chest and twisted my stomach. We had to get out of here.
I edged in between Christopher and Jared, remaining just behind, determined to assuage the malice that had filled the air. This time I spoke a little louder and pulled at the back of Christopher’s shirt. “Jared… Christopher… come on, let’s just go. Please.”
The guy’s face contorted into a mocking sneer, taunting them. He looked directly at Jared. “Why don’t you tell your whore to shut her fucking mouth?”
Hearing those words, Jared snapped. He moved faster than I’d ever seen anyone move, rushing the guy with his arm cocked back. I watched in horror as Jared’s fist brutally slammed into the guy’s face. The punch connected with a sickening thud that reverberated in my ears. Blood spurted, gushing from the man’s nose as it ran profusely down his face and dripped from his chin.
At the sight of blood, Jared seemed to lose it completely. He roared, descended on the guy in a fury of pent-up madness. Fists flew in a constant barrage as Jared’s attack drew more blood. Each hit landed more savagely than the last. The guy tried to fight back, but Jared was too agile and dodged every returned blow.
Finally finding his feet, the guy swung his cue stick with a thundering cry. It whipped through the air as he angled it for Jared’s head.
Jared ducked. In the same motion, he ripped the stick from the other man. Grabbing it in both his hands, he held the weapon horizontal as he charged. Jared’s teeth were bared, clenched, and he rammed into the guy’s chest. He bent him backward over the pool table, the stick holding him down by the chest. The guy thrashed, pinned to the green felt with his legs flailing as he fought to find leverage on the ground.
Jared leaned in close and growled in his face, the words hoarse as they ripped from his throat. “What the fuck did you say? Say it again, fucker. I dare you, say it again.” Pulling back a fraction, Jared slammed him down again. “Say it again.”
The crowd swarmed, vying to get a better view.
“Fuck you,” the guy all but moaned. Jared had stripped him of any other form of defense, so the guy spat in his face.
Incensed, Jared roared and raised the cue above his head.
I realized I was screaming, screaming Jared’s name. “Jared, stop! Oh my God, please stop!”
Seemingly prompted by the fear in my voice, Christopher reacted. From behind, he yanked the stick from Jared’s hands. Jared whirled around, flinging his fist, his blue eyes wild as he readied for another attacker.
Christopher was quick enough to jump back, and the aimless punch connected with air. “Jared, come on, man, look at me.” Christopher came in close to Jared’s face, his hands on his shoulders. Jared struggled to break free. “Come on, Jared, snap the fuck out of it. This asshole isn’t worth it, and I guarantee the cops are on their way. We have to get Aly out of here.”