I dodged quickly and countered with a few of my own. One, two, three. All in the time it took him to throw one.
They landed, and he was on his way down by the second one, but the third was for good measure. Nothing broke. Nothing budged.
It was all over in seconds.
He fell to the floor, his jaw slack and his eyes glazed over.
Motherfucker would be waking up in a minute or two.
So I slammed some cash down on the table and left. Had to leave a tip.
It wasn't the bloody brawl I was looking for, but a quick fight. Enough to keep me satiated.
For now. I looked at my watch. I was just going to make my flight.
***
Zach
I was supposed to be at work. My job was to get my buddy, Glitch, up and running today. But as soon as I showed him the warehouse and the tech I'd picked up (all of which he ordered), he took over and told me to get the hell out of there. He liked to work alone. Man was fucking weird but he got the job done.
So I made a nice little hour flight to visit an asshole in North Carolina.
Elijah Cartwright wasn't a difficult man to find. Being a public figure, it was easy to locate his home address, his bank account, his IRS forms for the last three years, and his criminal record.
I was pretty sure it took Glitch less than three minutes to hand me everything but the key to that very swanky sky-rise in Raleigh, including the flight and rental car invoices. There was a reason I brought him on. He was good at what he did, and he could be trusted. He'd never tell anyone what I was about to do.
Hell, he'd never speak of it again. I knew him well enough to know that about him.
I watched Elijah come out of the building and walk briskly down the street. That asshole looked smug in every single picture on the web, and even now he couldn't exist without that piece of shit smile on his face. I wanted to knock it right off. Plow him into next Tuesday and let him know exactly what I thought of him. When we were far enough away from his place, I approached him.
"Elijah Cartwright, I need to speak to you," I said as I grabbed him and pulled him into an open alleyway. I'd scouted it out, and I knew it was the perfect place. He just stared at me, his eyes small. "You've been fucking around with Willow Ford for too damn long."
There it was, that shit-eating grin, the one I wanted to shove my fist through. I clenched that fist and waited for him to speak. Just give me a fucking reason, I thought.
"What are you, a fucking hitman or something, come to collect on me?" he joked as he looked at me. It didn't matter that I had him pinned up against a brick wall, he wasn't scared.
"I'm no fucking hitman, but I'll get the job done if you don't fucking back off her." I slammed him against the wall then put the fist right where I wanted it, at the cusp of his jaw.
His head slammed against the brick and bounced back as he realized what was happening. He wasn't a pussy, though. He grabbed me and pushed me away from him, countering my hold and shoving me back
"You can go to fucking hell, you asshole. Look, I don't know who you are, but I'm not going to do anything you tell me. Do you know who I am?"
Oh, I did. And I wanted to end him for it. But I knew a real fight would only draw attention. Still, the anger coursing through me made me want to take him on, show him exactly what I could do.
But that would only bring questions when it came to Willow. Questions I wasn't ready to answer. I just wanted to warn the asshole, give him a fair shot. The sucker punch was my own treat.
"Look, asshole. This warning was for you. You leave her alone or you'll be seeing more of me, and it won't end so well." I turned and headed away from him, ducking out of the alley and down another so that he wouldn't be able to follow me.
Every man deserved to know where they stood. Even a piece of shit like that.
Willow
Shock. That was the only way to describe it.
"The blood test came back. You are absolutely pregnant," the doctor said as she smiled at me. Maybe it was my age-mid-twenties, but she thought it was a good thing. It was my first appointment with her and I was acting like a silly fool. I just stood there, my mouth agape.
"Are you sure?" I asked. Maybe the results were wrong. There was a way that three pee-sticks and a blood test could be wrong, wasn't there?
I'd even waited a week before going in to her to be sure I had health insurance. I couldn't handle a big bill on top everything that was happening. Of course, it was a week of trying to avoid Zach, of not telling him the truth, and that wasn't easy. Not at all.
"I couldn't be more sure." She did a quick exam next, feeling my stomach, my pelvic region. "When was your last period?" she asked.
I gave her all the details. I couldn't believe this was actually happening.
"Well, it seems like you are somewhere between four and six weeks. Normally we don't see you for eight, so we'll set up an appointment with ultrasound for then. But congratulations. You are going to be a mom."
"Thank you," I said as I got up and left the office. I felt absolutely numb. A mom. I couldn't be a mother. I wasn't ready to be one. Not yet.
I needed room to breathe. To think. I swore everything went in a blur after that. The check out, the next appointment date, the walk from the waiting room to my car. I just forgot it all, lost in some kind of stupor as I thought about the possibilities.
What was I going to do? How could I raise a child? This child. Four to six weeks meant it had to be Zach's, right? I tried to remember how long we'd been seeing each other. How long it had been since the first night. At least four weeks. Maybe five. It hadn't been that long, surely. But the numbers ticked back to match. I was definitely pregnant and there was no way it was anyone else's.
Except maybe Elijah's.
"This can't be happening," I said as I turned down my street.
But I put that out of my head. A man like him couldn't be a father. He couldn't be the father of my baby. I was so careful when we were together. I made sure that I'd always taken the pill; I made sure that nothing ever happened. Six weeks. I'd been away from him for six, right? Maybe seven. So there was a chance it was his. But I wasn't sure.
Because a part of me knew that no matter what, I didn't want to bring a child into that nightmare. Panic rose in my throat as I turned on the car and steered myself towards home. How was I going to tell them-either of them-about the possibility that the child I was carrying was theirs?
I knew exactly how Elijah would handle it. He would sweep me back into his web, make me move home, make me continue the life that I was living there with him. One where I never knew if what I doing was the right thing, or if it was going to lead to a smack in the face, or worse.
I wondered if he would show that same kind of discipline to a child or if the child would go on unharmed. He wasn't always a bad man, but he was harsh, and when he lost his temper, there was no use in arguing with him or trying to protect against him. He could be a torrent of hell to deal with. No, I wouldn't tell him. Never. If it was his, I would raise it on my own. If I raised it at all.
My hand slid down to my stomach, and I knew the instant I thought that last sentence it was a lie. I couldn't get rid of this baby. No matter whose it was, no matter what it was, that little speck of me that was happy when I found out was already growing. I wanted this baby. I was a pregnant woman, and I wasn't going to give it up.
A masculine silhouette greeted me as I pulled into my drive, his tall body leaning against the side of the brick house, one leg up, and instantly my day got a little brighter. Zach never knew when I was going to be home, but lately he always seemed to leave me some kind of memento. Chocolates, a flower, something to make my day better. It didn't hurt that I hadn't heard from Elijah in a while. I could tell Zach. I could tell him now. Hell, I needed to.
I got out of my car and hurried over to him to give him a hug but when I realized who I was walking to, I recoiled back.
Elijah.
"I told you that you would see me soon," he said as he reached for me and pulled me into his arms. I struggled back and looked at him.
"What are you doing here?" I asked.
"I was in town at a conference and I thought I would swing by. I got the distinct impression when your friend came to visit that you would want to see me," he said as he laid on the charm. "I missed you, baby girl."
I shuttered. He loved to call me that, and each time that he did it left me feeling a little more broken. It was a trigger that got me again and again. Baby girl.
I didn't want to be his baby girl. I didn't want to be his anything. Fuck.
"You need to leave," I told him, my voice as firm as possible. "You need to leave right now." My voice was firm and my body felt strong. Like I could force him to leave if I needed to. I was in charge of my future. Not him. I made the choices, not him.