Against the Cage (Worth the Fight #1) Read Online Free Page B

wasn’t the usual ham, cheese, and butter. Slade was always peanut butter and jelly.”
    “Well, the ham, cheese, and butter are in the fridge and the bread is in the pantry. Get to work, woman.” He winked at her and began unbuttoning his shirt.
    “Wh-what are you doing?” she stammered.
    “Oh, sorry. Force of habit, I guess. I always dump my shirt in the basket in the laundry room.” He pointed behind Chrissy. “There’s a lady that comes once a week to iron them for me.”
    Unsure where to look, although really she wanted to stare at his bare chest, she made herself busy in the kitchen while Jack placed his gun and holster on the kitchen counter, tossed his shirt into a large basket, and headed upstairs. While she made the sandwiches she carefully placed a few bits of ham and cheese by her feet for Drogo, who cautiously made his way closer and closer to her until he finally reached the scraps,sniffed them, and then walked pompously away, not bothering to taste them. Chrissy laughed. She knew animals, and food always got them on your side. She was going to figure out what the pup liked to eat, and win him over. If all she accomplished while in town was winning Drogo’s affection, so be it.
    After she finished making Jack’s sandwich, she placed it on a plate with some potato chips she found in the pantry and grabbed a beer for him. Then she slumped down on his couch. It had been a long day.
    That morning, after almost a year of dating, Gary had broken up with her via text. Yes, text! She had been upset about the breakup but not devastated. What had stung the most was the casual send-off. She had seen potential in Gary. He was a good guy. Like Chrissy, he was a doctor. But unlike Chrissy, he was a filthy-rich plastic surgeon who didn’t understand why she had to be “traipsing around godforsaken countries.” He wanted a wife who’d stay home, have his babies, and have dinner ready for him when he arrived. What did he think this was, the 1920s? He’d hoped she would tire of all the traveling and settle down with him in Miami. What she hadn’t told him before the insensitive text was that she hadn’t renewed her contract with the nonprofit that organized her trips overseas and was planning on taking a job offer at Miami West Hospital. Not twenty minutes into her pity party, complete with anger and vindictiveness as the guests of honor, she had received a call from Slade telling her he’d been arrested on charges of assault and battery and needed bail money. Within an hour of the call, she was on the road heading north to Tarpon Springs.
    As soon as she arrived in town, she’d gone straight to the jail, where she spoke with Officer Ramos, who was handling the case. He let her know what time Slade’s arraignment would be the next morning, and suggested she hire a bail bondsman. She asked if she could please see Slade. Officer Ramos agreed to a five-minute visit. Of course, Slade looked like his normal nonchalant self. As if the five-hour drive she’d made and the fact that she would need to cough up money to get him out of jail were no big deal. As if it were her duty to help him. Not a “Thank you, sis, for dropping everything and bailing my ass out of jail.” Not even a “How are you doing, sis? It’s been years since I’ve seen you.” Nothing. But she owed it to him and their dad to help him. He was her brother, after all. He’d do it for her.
    Maybe.
    Probably not.
    Irritated, she had walked out of the jail after her very brief visit with her brother and stumbled on a crack on the sidewalk. A crack that was now the proud owner of one beautiful red four-inch heel. She’d tried to pry it out, but the heel was jammed in tootightly. So she left the heel in the middle of the sidewalk, stood up, gathered her dignity from the ground, and straightened her black dress. Head held high, she wobbled, like a pirate with one wooden leg, all the way to her piece-of-shit car and started for her old house. But