CHAPTER TWENTY

JAGGER

Jett went to Erik’s room to tell him I wanted to meet with him. Of course, he agreed like the good fucking dog he is. Glancing at my watch, I chuckle to myself. It’s probably right about now that he’s in the car with the guys, and realizing as they drive to the middle of nowhere, that this is not a simple meeting. It’s good to have friends everywhere I go. I hitched a ride with Axl, the keyboard player from Asylum, with the agreement that I’d never breathe a word to his lead singer, because apparently he still hates me. The asshole acts like I got his sister pregnant.

He drives to the location Jett scouted for us, and Axl agreed that it’ll either take him days to get back to civilization, or he’ll die trying. The goal isn’t necessarily to end his life. I’d prefer he live the rest of his days in excruciating pain. His career will be over. Everything he wanted so desperately will evaporate. Yet, if he dies, I won’t lose sleep over it. One thing we all agreed upon is that McKinley never finds out. She wouldn’t understand, because she’s too good to accept this, and I don’t think she completely realizes what he did to her. My girl doesn’t seem to comprehend how wrong it was, or that every word he spoke to her was absolute bullshit and designed to hurt her.

Axl looks at me from the driver’s seat.

“This girl must be something if you’re going to all this trouble.”

I shake my head with a stupid grin on my face. “She isn’t something. She’s fucking everything.”

He arches an eyebrow as he turns onto an isolated road. “Is the bad boy of rock settling down?”

Barking out a laugh, I say, “Consider him settled. She’s it for me.”

“Wow.”

For the past several years, I’ve fucked my way through the country, from one venue to another. It’s what I’m known for. A lot of people also think I have a drug addiction, because of the leaked photos, but I don’t. Sure, I’ll partake if I’m at a party, but it doesn’t mean it’s a problem. Guaranteed, when we go on this trip, the media will speculate over whether I’ve gone to rehab. Those jackasses write whatever people will read. The more salacious the rumor, the better it sells. There are few things people enjoy more than watching someone fall, and the bigger they are, the harder they fall. Two million albums sold, and a couple dozen endorsements, means I’m pretty high up there in the music world. He pulls up to where we are going, deep in the desert. There’s nothing to see for miles, other than a random shed that doesn’t look like it’s been used in over a decade.

“Thanks, man.”

He chuckles. “I’m staying. I wanna watch the show.”

I nod slowly as I reach behind me and grab my bat.

“That’s fine, but anything you see or hear, you take to the grave.”

Erik stands with my bandmates, my best friends since I was in my late teens, surrounding him. He’s talking to them with a nervous expression, but I can’t hear what he’s saying.

Axl smiles. “You have my word. Grave.”

I get out and approach. As soon as the others realize I’m here, they separate. Jett and Jake stand on one side, and Hendrix is on the other. Jett is the most fucked up out of all of us and probably the most violent. He has had a fucked up life, and battles a myriad of demons, which is why I’m a little surprised to see Erik appearing unscathed. Jett glances at me with a smirk.

“I wanted to, but you’re owed this. She’s your girl.”

Erik stares at me with a slight tremble in his jaw.

“You wanted to talk to me?”

I nod slowly, with the bat in my right hand, while I scratch the stubble on my chin with the other.

“We have a problem, dildo.”

His eyes dart between the five of us; Jett, Jake, Hendrix, Axl, and myself.

“You did a lot of damage to my girl.”

He shakes his head. “My girl.”

I chuckle loudly. “I told you I was going to steal her, and I did. And now you have to pay for hurting what’s mine.”

Holding the bat with the top digging into the dirt, I stare at him. “If you tell me why, maybe I’ll go easy on you.”

He shakes his head, like he doesn’t know how the fuck he got here.

“McKinley was fucked up long before I met her. I didn’t do all the damage.”

I sigh audibly. “Maybe not, but you didn’t exactly help, did you?”

He admits, “I didn’t. I treated her like shit, but she could’ve left at any time. I didn’t hold her hostage, man. She chose to stay.”

That’s something I’ll never understand. Why did she stay and take his abuse, instead of getting out?

As if he hears my thoughts, Jett says, “Some people have such a rough upbringing, they are literally conditioned for abuse. They don’t know it’s not normal because it’s all they know. Your experience is your normal .”

He hit the nail on the head with that statement. It’s exactly why she’s more comfortable with being treated like shit. And probably also why she took his abuse, instead of leaving him years ago like she should have.

“I’m still waiting to hear why.”

He shrugs as if he doesn’t even know the damn answer.

“It was easy. The more I gave, the more she took. It was never too much. And if this is about her weight, well, she needs to lose weight. Her ideal weight is a maximum of one hundred forty-three pounds. She’s pushing two hundred.”

His words hurt my heart, for my girl that believes his words. This jackass has made her hate herself. No one should be made to hate the skin they’re in.

“My girl is fucking perfect. Every inch of her.”

I pick up my bat, and his eyes grow wide with pure panic. He should be afraid, very afraid. There’s barbed wire wrapped around the top, and I guarantee it’s going to fucking hurt.

Stepping closer to him, he says, “Come on, man. You got the girl. She’s fine.”

That’s just the thing though, she’s not. It will take years, at best, for her to heal from what he has done to her.

I swing the bat, going for his face, but he draws his hands up to protect it, so the bat strikes his forearms, and the barbed wire sticks in his skin.

I pull it out, and blood trickles down his flesh.

Drawing it back, I swing forward, striking his knees, and he falls to the ground, screaming. He thought he was tough, abusing my future wife, but he’s not so strong now. Just the opposite. Weak and pathetic as fuck.

I stand over him with a grin on my face, as I slam the bat down onto his stomach, covered in a thin Under Armour shirt.

Jett steps forward and kicks him in his face. He immediately falls to his back and, like he can read my mind, Jett pulls his legs free from under his body. I tilt my head and take in his ugly face. Blood pours from his nose and it makes me smile, thinking about the first time I fucked up his face.

I take the bat to his other knee, and he screams and cries out, which only makes me smile more. This is what happens when you hurt my woman. Past or present.

“If you make it out of here alive, you will never contact her again. I saw your vile text message. No more. If you do, you stop breathing.”

“Please stop. I’ll leave her alone. I swear i-i-t,” he stutters pathetically.

I strike his chest several more times before I decide it’s enough. If I keep going, he won’t live in pain. He will definitely be dead. Every time he has an ache, I want him to remember that what he did to her is the cause of it.

“By the way, you’re fucking fired, you talentless piece of shit.”

Through his cries, he says, “If I’m talentless, why did you hire me?”

I shake my head at his stupidity, because I already told him. There was no deceit. I was transparent about why he had the gig.

“I told you before, dildo. I wanted her. That’s why. She is the fucking reason for everything.”

We walk over to the car, and I place my bloody bat in my bag and zip it up, so blood doesn’t get all over the car.

I turn to Axl and shake his hand.

“Thanks again.”

He grins at me.

“Let me know if a spot opens up.”

I chuckle. “You’ll be my first call, man. Tell Saint I said hello.”

Axl shakes his head. “Not a fucking chance.”