Jax (Cocky Cage Fighter Series) (22 page)

BOOK: Jax (Cocky Cage Fighter Series)
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Chapter Sixteen

Page

"Hey, sis, time to wake up."

I hear Jude's voice, and even though I hope yesterday had all been a dream, well most of it, I knew by his nickname that it hadn't. "I don't want to," I tell him, pulling the sheets back over my head. "Wake me up in six months."

"Now that's not the right attitude. I thought you'd be trying to get my brother out sooner than that."

"How Jude? How the hell am I supposed to do that?" I ask through the cotton layers.

"We hire a private investigator, or several," my real brother answers, causing me to jerk the covers off.

"Logan? W-what are you doing here?" I ask, finding him sitting on the couch across from the bed, eating a muffin in a ruffled dress shirt and pinstripe suit.

"Trying to help. I put a call in to an attorney I know in the area to give me a few PI referrals."

"What's a PI going to do?" I ask.

"Well, it'd be good if we could get the bitch to admit she made it all up, but what we really need right now is to find evidence to force Judge Bray to declare a mistrial."

"A mistrial?"

He nods "We're going to investigate all twelve jurors and hope one fucked up and talked about the case on Facebook or to a friend while it was going on."

"Oh. But why are you helping me?"

"Because you're my sister and you need it. Dad never should've given you this case-"

"I know."

"You did great, Page, don't get me wrong. But this case required a seasoned veteran in criminal defense."

"It's my fault he's in prison, isn't it?" I ask as the tears start again.

"I didn't say that, and I don't think that. All I'm saying is this was too much pressure for a newbie to handle. What's done is done. Maybe another attorney would've had a different outcome…probably not, though, because of those pictures. We've got to find out who put the marks on her. With a good PI, we might luck up and get what we need with that or the jurors."

I launch myself at my brother to hug him. "Thanks, Logie," I tell him, using the name I called him when I first started talking until I was probably thirteen. And then whenever I want to embarrass him.

"You know I hate that name, right?"

"That's why I use it," I joke finally, pulling away.

Glancing down at myself, well, I look like shit. I'm wearing one of Jax's
Havoc
tees that's all wrinkled and a pair of cotton shorts. My hair is such a mess I can actually feel the tangles, and yesterday's makeup is probably streaking down my face. I guess that's to be expected after losing my career and my husband in one night.

My husband
.

It's still funny to say that word. But even in the light of day I don't regret our decision. There was another decision we made last night, and my logical self says even if the chances are slim since my period's due in a few days, it isn't too late for
Plan B
prevention. But my heart, well, it says it'll be okay either way, because I'm married to a man I love.

That reminds me of a call I need to make. "Can I borrow your phone?" I ask Logan, sitting down next to him on the sofa. I have no clue where my phone, purse or briefcase are.

"Yeah, sure," he says, handing it over. I pull up the number from his contacts.

"Logan, what's going on?" My dad answers, since I'm on his phone.

"Hi, Dad."

"Page? What the hell did you do?"

"For the first time in my life I did what I wanted to - I married a man that I love. I don't care if you approve or not, it's done."

I hear his exhale through the phone. "I hope you know what you're doing."

"I do. I'm happy with Jax, and he's more important to me than my law license."

"At least he's wealthy, so he can take care of you."

Oh. My. God. "I didn't marry him for his money! You just don't get it do you? Well I'm tired of trying to explain it." I disconnect the phone before handing the phone back to my brother.

"I give up," I tell him.

"He'll come around," he says.     

Yeah well, even if he doesn't I don't care. There's nothing he or anyone else can do about me and Jax now. I feel lighter because of it, and everything would be perfect if he was here with me now and not stuck in a tiny cell. He's probably freaking out, but trying to act all tough like he's fine. It's not fair that he's going through this hell for something he didn't do.

"Page?"

"Huh?" I ask when Logan calls my name.

"Are you hungry?"

My stomach growls, responding for me. "I'm starving…oh no! I bet the food is terrible…and…and they don't give him any dessert," I say, imagining what Jax is going through. 

"And here we go again," Jude says when I fell back in bed boohooing.

In bed is where I stay for the next several hours, until Jude's phone rings.

"Hello?" he answers from the sofa on the other side of the room.

"Hey bro! How's life on the inside?" he asks. I make a run for his phone, snatching it from his ear.

"Jax? Is it really you?"

"Hey, my wifie! How are you holding up?" he asks.

"Me? You're the one…that's...locked up."

"You're not still crying are you?"

"No," I say, even though my voice shakes with that one word.

"I'm fine, princess. It's…it’s not as bad as before. I called your phone but it went to voicemail so I figured you'd be there with Jude. They're getting ready to transport me to the processing facility in Trenton, and then I'll receive a prison designation. So you may not hear from me for a few days. When I get to the assigned prison I won't be able to call and tell you where I am because the account has to be set up like the one here. God, it's so fucking frustrating. But listen, don't worry. This is going to fly by like you wouldn't believe, and then we're going to make up for lost time, okay?"

After several sniffles I agree. "I love you and can't help worrying about you. You don't get any dessert do you?"

Jax laughs on the other end of the phone. "Actually there was some type of pie today at lunch."

"Liar."

"I think it was homemade apple with ice cream on top."

"Really?"

"Sure."

"Liar."

He laughs again. "Sorry, princess, but my time's up so I've got to go. Take care of yourself, okay?"

"Okay." I think about telling him our idea for a private investigator but I know all inmate conversations are recorded. "I love you."

"Love you, too, wifey. Tell Jude and my dad not to worry."

"I will. Bye."

The crying goes on for a few more hours. Logan fields calls from our parents, so I won't have to deal with them. He also talks to three PIs in the area and schedules for them to meet us in the hotel lobby the next day.


Jax

Thirteen hours in and I have to say, prison life sucks. If one of my fellow inmates isn't talking or singing loud enough to annoy the fuck out of me, I'm bored out of my mind. Last night I was put in a cell with six badass dudes. I always acted like I was badass, but compared to these guys, I'm a pansy.

There, I admit it.

These men would no doubt stab me in the eye over an orange. No shit.

No one has messed with me, at least, either because of my reputation as a crazy motherfucking fighter, or because of my size.  Everyone in this place is angry, myself included. They all bitch about their boys snitching on them, their court appointed lawyers being slack, the judge being racist…the list goes on, blaming everyone but themselves for landing their asses in the slammer.

I feel like I have an actual reason to be pissed since a lying bitch put me in here. But really, after hours of some self-reflection, since there's nothing else to do but count bars, I can admit that my womanizing ways played a part in my downfall. If I hadn't been so quick to fuck anyone that came my way, I wouldn't be here. I should've held out for decent women, or one woman, like my gorgeous wife. I decide starting now that I won't give Jude hell ever again for keeping his dick in his pants.

Speaking of dicks in pants, mine's still thinking about being inside Page last night, how good it'd felt, and the bastard is damn eager to get it in again. I haven't had the heart to tell him he'd be going through a dry spell for the next six months.

Six. Fucking. Months. Twenty-four weeks. One hundred-eighty days.

I'm going to lose my fucking mind before I get out.

The only thing that cheers me up is looking at the ring on my finger. The one the guards know about, but thankfully, let me keep for whatever reason. When that day that right now seems so far away finally comes, I get to go home to someone. It'll be a whole new life waiting for me. But fuck if it doesn’t blow to know I'll never be able to fight professionally again. Guess it's time to start thinking of a new career. Start coaching instead? Help Jude become the best in the welterweight class? I have no idea, and my choices are fairly limited since fighting is all I've ever known.

And Page, God I hate that she might have to give up practicing because of me. All those years of her hard work in law school, right down the motherfucking drain. Maybe her brother is right, and now that we're married she won't get suspended.


Page

I'm standing in the lobby with Jude and Logan, waiting to meet with the second PI when the hotel starts rocking like it's out to sea in rough waters, or we're having an earthquake.

"Whoa!" I exclaim, grabbing onto Jude's shoulder to keep from falling. "Did you feel that?"

"Um, feel what, Page?" Jude asks.

"The floor rolling!" How did they not feel it? I glance around and no one in the whole place seems to be panicking or freaking out.

"Have you been drinking?" Logan asks.

"No. Alcohol is a depressant. I have enough of that, thank you very much."

"Do you need to sit down?" Jude asks.

"When was the last time you ate?" Logan questions me.

Now I feel like I'm on trial. 

"I had some toast and a banana at lunch."

"You probably need to eat something else," Logan said.

When the walls start spinning around me like I'm on a tilt-a-whirl, I begin to think there
might
be something seriously wrong with me.

"Um, I'm going to go out on a limb here and guess that the hotel's not really spinning either?" I ask them. 

"That's it, you're going to the urgent care," Logan says. "Jude, you take her and I'll stay to talk to the PI."

"What? No!" I exclaim. "I'm fine. I just need to eat. Maybe sleep. Try not to cry as much."

"Take her," he says to Jude, ignoring me.

"I agree with Logan. You're going to get checked out even if I have to carry you there over my shoulder, and you know I'll do it."

"I don't need to go to the doctor!"

"You are whether you like it or not. Do you need your purse or any other shit?" Jude asks.   

"Yes," I huff, and start for the elevator to go hide out in my room, but Jude grabs my arm and stops me.                                                        

"I'll go get it, you sit your ass down," Jude says, pointing a finger at me before heading off to the elevator.

Logan stares at me like I'll disappear if his eyes aren't on me.

"What?" I yell at him.

"Just worried about you, sis. You've got a lot on you."

"Yeah, I do. I'm glad you're here to help," I tell him honestly. This whole new helpful Logan is not one I'm used to. I'm used to the criticizing, condescending, and making fun of me Logan. The one I’ve known all too well for the past twenty-four years. I'm sure that he's now on our dad's shit list for helping me, and marrying me, but he doesn't seem to mind. The old Logan would never think of stepping a toe out of line for fear of our dad's wrath.

"All right, woman, are you going to walk on your own two feet, or am I going to have to drag you?" Jude asks when he comes back with my purse thrown over his shoulder.

Laughter bursts from me at the sight; a big, tough guy with my very feminine white leather purse hanging off of him. It's such a nice feeling to be laughing that I can't stop, even after tears start rolling down my face. "Oh God...it's too funny!"

"Um, Page, I'm glad to see your mood improved and all, but people are starting to look at us, and they might recognize you," Logan warns.   

"That's right, everyone, I'm the attorney who fucked her client, an innocent man who's serving time behind bars! But at least he's my husband now!"

"Page!"

"I've got this," Jude says before he hefts me up on his shoulder and walks out the front door.

"Don't worry, he's my brother," I tell the strangers who gives us strange looks.

"You okay to walk?" he asks a block later.

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