His eyes narrow and he opens his mouth, but the look I give him halts him and he looks taken back.
I thought I'd break down over his betrayal. But I'm not, far from it actually. I'm straight up seething. I'm so outraged I want to put my hands around his neck and strangle the shit out of him. I want to eliminate him and wipe his beautiful face off the planet.
They always say there's a thin line between love and hate and right now, I'm standing on it, planting my fucking flag, ready to build a goddamned house on my newfound land made out of pure wrath. “Touch me again and you'll be in a jail cell,” I say deadpan while pointing to my cheek.
Shelby's eyes open wide and she gasps.
Jackson takes a step back and shakes his head. “That was an accident and you know it. I would never, ever hurt you on purpose. You stepped right in the middle of a full-on fight between two grown men, Alyssa. I didn't even see you until it was already too late. You have to know that I would never hurt you! I love you!” he screams, his voice thick with emotion.
He looks completely wrecked right now and part of me wants to take back what I've said, but then Momma and Ricardo walk into the room and announce that Tyrone's out of surgery and the doctor will be updating us on his condition momentarily.
Any altercation brewing between Jackson and I goes on the back burner as we wait for the doctor to enter the room.
When he finally does, we all hold our breath, until he says, “He made it through surgery.”
There's tears, shouts of happiness and smiles.
Until the Doctor's face falls. “He's still not out of the woods quite yet, but we're hopeful about his recovery from the surgery.” He pauses and looks at Momma. “But there was extensive damage inflicted to his spinal cord. Specifically his thoracic vertebrae region, and more specifically, his T11 and T12 thoracic nerves.”
Momma shakes her head, confused. “I don't understand what that means, Doctor.”
Beside me, Jackson closes his eyes. “It means he's paralyzed, Momma.”
Momma gasps and Jackson walks over to her and envelopes her in his arms.
The Doctor nods sadly. “Yes. Although we won't know the full extent of the damage or his injury level until he wakes up, recovers from surgery and we can do further testing. And now that the surgery is over, I'll have to ask that only immediate family remain here to see him. The rest of you can come back tomorrow during scheduled visiting hours.”
The Doctor leaves after that and no one says a word, but there are sniffles and sobs from both Momma and Shelby.
Jackson and Ricardo look like they're about to lose it but are trying to remain strong. Lou-Lou looks down and her lower lip trembles.
My heart just breaks for poor Tyrone. I'm so happy he's alive, but this is devastating in its own right.
A few moments later Momma and Shelby hug everyone goodbye. Jackson didn't want to leave but when he heard that I was going back to my own apartment and not his, he said he'd be back later.
The four of us walk down the hallways in a clusterfuck of awkwardness. Lou-Lou and I walk side by side huddled up together, the tension between her and Ricardo and Jackson and me is so visible that even the nurses stop and give our group strange looks.
“You need a ride back to your apartment, right?” Lou-Lou says after we walk out of the elevator and make our way toward the parking garage. Fortunately, Ricardo and Jackson went out a different way.
“Yeah, if you wouldn't mind. I'd really appreciate it.”
“No problem.”
Far behind us, I hear both Ricardo and Jackson's footsteps.
Lou-Lou and I exchange a glance wondering why they're still following us, but we soon find out when we look over our shoulders and Ricardo tosses his keys in the air before Jackson catches them.
“Don't wreck my baby,” he warns.
“I won't. I appreciate the favor.”
“You owe me,” he says before he begins walking closer to Lou-Lou at the same time Jackson walks closer to me.
“Oh, shit,” Lou-Lou whispers.
“What?”
“Alyssa, I suggest that if you don't want to be manhandled by Jackson—you start running, now.”
She doesn't have to tell me twice. I start running like there's a fire up my ass. I have no idea where I'm running, I just know that I'm toast if Jackson gets his hands on me. Especially knowing what I know now about him.
I'm not in the least bit turned on like I was during our last cat and mouse game at the bar. My brain and my body are fully aware that this is for survival. I'm sprinting so fast I'm surprising myself.
However, I'm still no match against Jackson. In a flash, his arm wraps around my waist and his large hand covers my mouth so I can't scream as he drags me in the direction of some red Mustang.
In the distance, I see Ricardo doing the same thing to Lou-Lou; only he's shouting, “Give me your fucking keys,” in a dark tone that makes me incredibly nervous for her.
Then I have that moment, that moment where I say to myself— 'Fuck this shit.'
I'm not letting him manhandle me. He's not taking me out of this parking garage without a fight.
I start kicking my legs and twisting as hard as I can against him. I even go as far as to bite his hand which causes him to curse.
Then I go limp and will my body to become a ferret. This way, I'll be able to slinky myself right out of his hold.
He seems to sense what I'm doing because he gives me a sinister laugh and says, “Nice try, Damsel.”
The fact that he's using that name with me again makes me so mad I lift my head and spit in his face.
That's when he lifts me up and puts me right over his shoulder. “Why don't we save the exchange of bodily fluids for after we get home, baby?”
I grunt and smack my hand against his back. “I'm not going to your apartment, Jackson,” I scream. “I know who's fight club you work at. I know how you betrayed me.” I kick him. “And most of all, I already know that you're either going to kill me yourself or you're handing me right over to DeLuca himself to do it.”
At this, he stops moving entirely. “Jesus Christ, you're crazy. You know that!” he roars.
“Tell me, Jackson. How much are you getting paid to be his lackey? To do his dirty work for him?” Then I give him a sinister laugh of my own. “You really had me going with that whole Lilly story. How long did it take you to come up with that? Hell, there probably is no Lilly, is there?”
His entire body starts shaking and his hold on me tightens, but I keep going. “Or maybe there was. Who knows? Maybe she was a disgruntled ex-girlfriend of yours? Maybe you were the one who really killed her. Tell me, Jackson. Where did you bury Lilly's body right after you murdered her, huh!”
“Shut the fuck up! You have no idea what you're talking about!” he screams so loud I jump.
He opens the door to the Mustang and throws me in the passenger seat. The vein in his neck is bulging and there's sweat pouring down his face. I've never seen him this upset before, not even in the cage.
I open my mouth again, but he opens the dashboard and pulls out a roll of duct tape. Then he slams it across my mouth. I roll my eyes and proceed to peel it off but then he forces the seat all the way back, crawls on top of me and before I know it, both my wrists are being bound behind my back with the duct tape.