His lip curled up into a nasty sneer, and he leaned over me. Trying, and succeeding, to intimidate me. I turned my head to the side, my sweaty hands slipping as I struggled to keep hold of the counter behind me. “J.T., please,” I whimpered.
In my face J.T. yelled, “Please what?” He slammed his hands down on either side of me.
“P-p-please stop,” I stammered, tears welling up, despite my effort to suppress them.
J.T. laughed what could only be described as a sinister laugh, throwing his head back and chortling. Seeing an out I tried to duck under his arm. But he was too quick. He stopped me by grabbing the front of my shirt and bunching the material up in his fist. “And where do you think you’re going?” he growled. “Trying to run so you can go find your rich, murdering new friend?”
I didn’t answer, and J.T. continued. “You do know you’re just another piece of ass for Ward to pursue?” He cocked his head to the side, sizing me up. “Shame too. I always pegged you for having better taste.”
He touched my cheek, and I raised my hand and slapped him across the face. “Fucking bitch,” he roared while slamming me back forcefully against the counter.
A sharp pain cut across my lower back, and J.T. was back in my face. “Tell me, Maddy, what is it about Ward? Is he that great of a fuck?”
I closed my eyes, and tears streamed down my cheeks. I hadn’t even gotten to that point with Adam, but I knew it wouldn’t matter to an enraged J.T. O’Brien. “Answer me,” he demanded, his hot whiskey breath nauseating me.
A choked sob escaped my lips, and just when I feared the worst might happen, J.T. was violently yanked away from me. As I slid down to the floor, eyes still tightly closed, I heard a loud crash and the sound of punches being thrown.
“Get the fuck off me, you murderer,” J.T. protested, sounding frightened and pained.
“Fuck you.” —More punches, J.T. coughing— “Don’t you ever fucking touch her, you hear me?” I knew that voice, so I wiped at my teary eyes and glanced up to see a glowering Adam looming over a curled-up J.T. on the floor.
“Don’t worry. I won’t ever touch her again. I don’t want any more of your sloppy seconds anyway,” J.T. laughed.
Adam’s hands clenched at his sides, and J.T. flinched. “Go ahead, Ward,” he challenged, his voice thick with blood. “Hit me again.”
Adam spat in J.T.’s direction. “You’re not worth it, asshole.”
“Whatever. You still can’t change the fact that I was fucking your fiancée almost the entire time you were away at college,” J.T. yelled defiantly.
Adam’s expression turned murderous. “Get up, you pathetic drunk. Get up and fight like a man.” His voice, now, disturbingly calm.
But instead of getting up, J.T. rolled to his side and suddenly choked out, “You took away the only girl I ever loved, you fuck.”
Well, this was news. J.T. had loved Chelsea? As J.T. lay sobbing on the floor, drunk and defeated, Nate emerged from the shadows to stand next to Adam. Had he been there the entire time? If so, Nate had had Adam’s back throughout the duration of the fight. Not that I was surprised.
“What do you want me to do?” Nate asked Adam.
“Get him out of here before I end up really hurting him,” Adam said shakily, cracks showing in his controlled veneer. “Take him to Max’s.”
“Why’d you do it?” J.T. bellowed, spitting blood. Nate pulled him up and began to drag him to the door. “Why?” J.T. croaked.
“Wait,” Adam said.
Nate halted, J.T. in tow. “I didn’t kill her, you fucking idiot. Did you ever consider that maybe she just left?” Adam paused, eyeing J.T. carefully. “Chelsea didn’t love you any more than she loved me. Chelsea only loved Chelsea, so quit wasting your time—and your life—pining away for her.”
“She didn’t leave,” J.T. said quietly as Adam was turning away.
He spun back around. “Is that a confession, O’Brien?”
“Fuck you!” J.T. shouted, and Nate tightened his grip on him. “You know I didn’t kill her.”
“Do I?” Adam asked.
His stance, expression—just everything—was eerily calm. J.T. must have noticed the same thing because he said nothing more. Nate pulled him up and out the door.
With both men gone, Adam rushed over to where I sat on the floor, legs pulled up to my chest with my arms wrapped tightly around them.
He knelt down in front of me. “Are you OK, Maddy? Do you want me to fly you to the hospital? I can—”
“Adam,” I interrupted. “I don’t need to go to a hospital. I’ll be fine, I’m just a little shaken up.”
He took my face in his hands, scanning for any signs of harm. “Are you sure you’re not hurt? When I was coming in, I saw him slam you back into the counter.” I winced, suddenly cognizant of a dull aching across my lower back.
“Maddy?” Adam asked. “Where does it hurt?”
“My back. But it doesn’t hurt that much.”
Adam touched the hem at the back of my shirt. “Do you mind if I take a look?”
“Go ahead,” I whispered.
Adam scooted behind me and lifted up the back of my shirt, just enough to see what kind of damage had been inflicted. “Fucking J.T.,” he muttered under his breath.
“How bad does it look?” I asked, worried since Adam’s hand seemed to be frozen in place.
He sighed. “There’s some bruising, but that’s the worst of it.” He lowered my shirt back into place. “It still makes me wish I’d fucked him up more than I did. He had no right touching you, let alone hurting you.”
I turned to face him, my eyes meeting his. “You saved me, Adam,” I said softly. “If you hadn’t come in…”
I shuddered at the thought of all
