Focus!
I sighed and stood. The best way to stop two dogs from fighting over a bone is to take away the bone.
"All right, boys, I'm out. You two have a good fight."
"Wait, you're leaving?" Jonesy asked.
"If you two are going to go at each other like idiots in some white-collar fight club, then yeah, I'm out. I've had a long week. I'm going to go home and order in some Chinese, and the two of you can fuck off, or get a room, or whatever. If there's going to be oil, though, call me."
I snagged my bag and sidestepped Jonesy. I didn't spare a glance for Lincoln.
I could feel the tension dissipating, like air leaking from a balloon. There would be no fight.
I let the door swing closed behind me and hailed a cab. I didn't hear anything shattering, so I was relatively sure the mayhem was abated. The taxi pulled to the curb as Jonesy stumbled out with Lincoln on his heels.
"I'll see you home." Jonesy was almost incoherent and gave a random salute.
"What the hell did you drink at the office? Lighter fluid mixed with rubbing alcohol? Never mind. I don't care." I slid into the backseat and closed the door before either one could get in with me. "You two kiss and make up. Pics or it didn't happen. Then get back to me."
Lincoln said nothing. He was still tense, his hands clenching and unclenching. I remembered what those hands felt like on my body, at my throat. I almost regretted stopping the fight.
The cab moved forward. I leaned back into the dark interior, cutting off my line of sight with both of them.
Chapter Five
LINCOLN
I'd wanted to pound Jonesy's face in for even touching her. I'd always had a hot temper, though I'd reined it in quite a bit as I got older. The scar along my brow was a reminder of what could happen if I let my control slip. So I didn't. But his hand on her thigh tested me more than anything since I'd put my fighting days behind me.
The lights of Evan's cab disappeared around the corner. Jonesy stood ahead of me, watching the same now-empty road.
"I wouldn't touch her like that again, if I were you."
He whirled, almost losing his footing. "Who the fuck do you think you are? Evan and I-"
"Are friends, nothing more." I took a step toward him. I knew it was wrong, intimidating him with my size, but I needed to get my point across. I was spoiling for a fight, my ugly past trying to rear its head. But that wasn't what this was about, or at least that's what I told myself.
He didn't move. A breeze rustled by, pushing the smell of cheap vodka to my nose. Jonesy was too far gone, but he still felt like talking. "I'm not afraid of some backwoods hick. You need to stay away from her."
His backbone was a point in his favor, not much more.
"You may not be afraid, but if you ever touch her like that again, I'll fuck you up. That's a promise." I bored into him with my gaze, putting steel behind my words.
He blinked. "Maybe you should ask Evan what she wants instead of playing the big bad protector. She doesn't need any help from some hillbilly like you."
"I'm aware of that. This isn't me protecting her. This is me letting you know that, until she says otherwise, she's mine as far as you're concerned." I dropped my voice. I needed him to know I wasn't fucking around, for his own sake.
Jonesy laughed. It was too loud for authenticity. "You're an even dumber redneck than I first thought. You can't claim her. Evan does whatever the fuck she wants. Emphasis on the 'fuck.' Hell, she probably picked someone up on the way home."
I wanted to punch him, to grab a fistful of his shirt and tie and head-butt him into unconsciousness. I could have done it. Easily. I didn't.
"Even so. If I catch your hand on her thigh again, you and I will have a problem."
He held his hands up in mock fear. "Oh, no, the hick is going to knock my lights out. Somebody help." He bent over, hands on his knees, laughing until his whole body shook. Still leaning over, he tilted his head up at me. "You know, you shouldn't be worried so much about my hand on her thigh. You should be more worried about my dick in her snatch."
My knee to Jonesy's face shut him up. He fell backward onto the sidewalk, his arms landing out to his sides as his eyes rolled back. Fuck.
Regret was a motherfucker, especially when it came on this strong and sudden. Jonesy, though misguided, was harmless. I wasn't. And now here we were.
I hailed the nearest cab. It shot to the curb. That was one good thing about this concrete jungle, easy transportation. I hefted Jonesy up and onto my shoulder before dumping him onto the musty backseat. I climbed in next to him. "Jonesy, where do you live?"