Jail Bird. by Em. Z. (good book recommendations .TXT) 📖

hand on his cheek.

Even Dad was surprised, as I shot a glance at him. "But...as much as I like you...I just can't see myself by your side." I tweaked the side of my mouth up and shrugged.

And then, with his surprised state, I went into action. I gripped his shoulders, used the wall as support, and jumped up, kicking his stomach. Hard. He stumbled back, doubling over. I walked over to where he was, grabbing his hair and pulling his face up to look at me. "You know, I can't believe how weak you really think I am!" I yelled, pulling my fist back and punching him. "I put up with your shit. I feared you for years! You son of a bitch! I put up with everything! But not. Any. More!" With each word, I punched him.

But as I raised my fist to punch him again, I was pulled back, my arms bound behind me as two men dragged me away from him. I struggled futily against their hold, I wasn't done bashing his face in!

Ike stood, fury in his eyes as he wiped his bleeding nose. He brandished a knife from his pocket, and I gulped. Aw, shit. In the corner of my eye, I saw my Dad start to struggle, desperately trying to get out of his ropes so he could get me out of here.

I watched with fearful eyes as he stepped closer, running the tip of the knive along my side. "Such pretty skin. It would be a shame to damage it." He said, his eyes resting on my breasts.

I wanted to be brave again, but my rage was slowly subsiding, and now fear was taking it's place. "Let's play a game, yes? Every time you struggle, I cut the dress" He said, an evil grin covering his disgusting features.

I swallowed thickly. "Let's see...counting the times you struggled earlier, and how you're struggling now, I'd say that's worth...ten cuts."

He roughly took the hem of the already-too-short dress and reached his hand under the skirt, the knife grazing my leg. I closed my eyes tightly, trying hard not to give into his stupid game. Don't struggle. Don't struggle. He stuck the knife through my dress, and the tearing sound echoed through the room, as his knife tore through the frabric. He repeated this halfway around the hem, emphasizing each cut with a word of hatred. "You bitch! You think you can just come in here and act like I don't own you? I own everything about you! And I will have what's rightfully mine!" The last rip echoed in my mind, as my arms instinctually pulled against their hands, and I shut my eyes tighter.

Shit.

"Uh-oh boys, I saw a bit of a struggle. Didn't you?" He asked them, seeming overjoyed by that fact, "you know what that means."

I expected the knife to go under the hem, what I didn't expect was for him to stick it into the middle of my breasts, causing me to jerk back a bit with a gasp as my eyes flew open.

Double shit.

He only ripped the dress a bit at the top, thanks to my struggle, but of course, that meant more torture for me. He leaned down, skimming his nose down my chest, and closing his eyes. "Beautiful." He whispered again.

I pressed my lips together, pretending I didn't have tears running down my face as I looked away from him. "Oh, I almost forgot, that was another struggle, wasn't it?" He moved his mouth to my ear, and revulsion rolled my stomach.

"Ike...please..." The raspy voice of my father was completely ignored.

He'd set his eyes on me, and there was no going back now. He looked down at the hem of my dress again. "You know what I always hated about these dresses? They were way too hard to get off. Sometimes, I think a slit in the side is better, because you can just reach up there." He growled, his knife slightly cutting into me as he dragged it up my side, creating a ragged looking slit in the side, I cried out at the pain.

"That's it Baby, cry out for me. Struggle for me." he whispered in my ear.

Well, I thought dryly, as another tear fell, at least I got to beat the shit out of him before I died. 

I wanted my headstone to read "Here lies one Baddass Mofo. She beat the holy hell out of a gang member."

Yeah. That'd be nice.

I looked at Dad with a small "I tried." Smile, but realized he wasn't looking at me, he was looking towards the entrance. Thankful Ike wasn't paying much attention to my face anymore, I followed Dad's gaze. 

Sunglasses Dude?

What?

He put his finger to his lips, and I gave him a sarcastic look. Because I was so stupid that I was going to scream "Sunglasses Dude!" In joy and do a little happy dance.

This wasn't my first rodeo, cowboy. He gave a small, amused smile at that, and at that moment, I could swear I knew who it was. But that was impossible, he had greying brown hair atop his head, not black.

My attention was returned to Ike, as he ran his knife down the length of my arm, causing chills to run down my spine. "When I saw you, that first time, I knew you were the one. We fit each other, you know. You and your...stubborn personality, and me, with my sexy, rugged good looks."

This caused an involuntary snort to leave my mouth, and the words, "Yeah right." Popped from my lips before I could stop them.

Call me a cynic, but this guy looked like the CEO of Abercrombie and Fitch. He was U.G.L.Y.

Instead of getting angry, like I expected, he smiled a condescending smile, tapping the tip of the knife against my nose. "See? stubborn personality."

I shrugged, pushing my luck. "Yeah, well if I had to rate you from one to ten, one being...eh, the Orc from LOTR, and ten being...Brad Pitt...I'd say...yeah, you're a zero." I said.

Okay, so this made him angry. But I was trying to make myself angry again, too. This fear was too crippling, making me too weak.

"You little bitch! Maybe I should kill your father right here, teach you a lesson!" He growled.

I smirked. That was all I needed. The rush of adreniline pumped through my veins, as I tore my arms from the two dumbo's grasp, knocking the knife from Ike's hand in one foul swoop. I skipped out of the way as he tried to grab me, running for the entrance of the restaurant. 

That's when Sunglasses Dude stepped in. He pointed a gun at the three stooges, making them freeze. I took the opportunity to untie my father, pulling his arm over my shoulder and standing him up. 

"You're okay." I whispered, more to myself than anyone else.

I set him by the door, leaning down to examine his swollen face. This was all my fault. If I wasn't such a sass mouth all the time, this wouldn't have happened. I looked at his throat. A bruise was forming. It wasn't in the shape of fingerprints, it looked like he straight up punched him in the throat. I should take advice from Minnie. No Sass 'Mouthin.

I froze my examination at the sound of an oh-so familiar voice. "Jane, I want you to get out of here. I'll take care of your father. Just run as fast as you can in any direction. I'll find you." He promised.

"Victor?"

"Go!" He ordered, throwing me another gun.

I gave one last glance at my Dad, before standing, and rushing back outside the way I came. I grabbed my backpack, slinging it over my shoulder, and running to the right.

***

So here I was, my head resting against a tree in the park, as I listened for more footsteps. My entire body was tensed to run again, at one sign of danger. Another footstep, closer this time. I wanted to look behind me and see, but I didn't want to give up my location. 

"Jane?" The voice sent a thrill of relief through me, and I felt my heart-rate speed for another reason, as I dropped the gun to the ground.

I stepped around the tree, taking in the most beautiful sight I've seen all day. Victor had been wearing a wig, and sunglasses because his eyes were a dead give away. He was always there. Right there with me. Even when I thought I was alone.

I threw myself into his arms, wrapping my own around his neck as I buried my face in his chest. He pulled me tighter into him, burying his face in my hair. "It's okay, Jane. I'm here." He whispered.

And for the first time since I was young, I burst into tears, weeping into his shirt. I'd thought I was dead. I was probably smearing all kinds of makeup onto his shirt, but he didn't seem to care, and I couldn't bring myself to, either. 

"Let's get you home." He said softly.

"Where is Dad? Ike? What happened?" I asked through hiccuping breaths.

Victor scooped me up, turning to carry me to the car parked on the curb. "Your father is in the car."

I sniffed, wiping my eyes. "And...Ike?"

Victor sighed softly, his eyes hardening. "His "Hench" men distracted me long enough for Ike to get away." He muttered.

"Oh," I whispered, too tired to care as I played with his shirt.

He opened the front door, sitting me in the front seat. "I grabbed this from the bathroom, though." He said with a small smile, handing me my jacket.

This made a happy smile tug at my lips, as I slipped it on. "Thank you."

A small smile tugged at his lips, before he shut the door and walked began his walk around to the other side. "S'there something going on between you two?" I leaned around the seat of the car, looking at Dad.

"What? Psh, no...well...it depends on what you mean by "going on." Because if you mean "going on," as in-"

"My God." Dad groaned, cutting me off, and slapping his hand to his face.

I bit my lip as Victor got in the car, sinking down lower in my seat. He glanced at me, raising a questioning eyebrow at my red cheeks. I just looked out the window. He started the engine, the simple rental car purring to life. I missed the Shelby.

"Oh! By the way, what happened to the Shelby?" I asked him.

He gave me a dry look. "It was returned to the neighbors home before he could find it missing. You're lucky the guys down at the station like me." He said.

I smiled at him. "Damn, so I'm not going to jail?"

He gave me an amused smile. "No. You're not going to jail." He said.

"And...what about..." I trailed off, pointing behind me.

Victor sighed heavily. "Unless he somehow escapes, he's going to jail. But I don't think I could somehow lose him in a crowded airport while trying to keep track of you." He said, giving me a wink.

I beamed at him. "Oh, no, how ever could you do that?"

Dad grumbled something about complicated relationships and crossed his arms.

When we arrived at the airport, I excused myself to the bathroom to clean up and change, seeing as everyone was looking at me like a prostitute. So I left Victor to "watch" Dad. I scrubbed off all of the makeup, and brushed my teeth, ignoring the strange looks of others. I stepped into a stall and changed into a comfy T-shirt and some sweats. I was not going to ride in a plane in skinny jeans and a nice shirt. No way Jose. I looked for Victor and my Dad, to see them sitting in silence together. Victor was reading a magazine, and Dad was staring off in the distance. There was a seat open between them. I rolled my eyes as I sat down. 

"What time is the plane leaving?" I asked Victor.

He looked at his watched. "At eight. So in about an hour."

I nodded, settling myself in and pulling out my