Page 53 of Shrapnel

Jackson didn’t wait for him to regain his balance. He stepped forward, cocking his fist back for a blow that would knock the guy’s head clean off. To his surprise the thief stepped into his fist, grabbing his wrist with both hands and twirling just out of reach. He slammed his back into Jackson’s chest and they both staggered backward.

Before Jackson could grab the guy, he was yanking his straightened arm down over his shoulder, his recently dislocated elbow twinging in protest.

One boot to the back of the assailant’s knee did the trick, but he took Jackson down with him. For a skinny guy, he was surprisingly strong. Still, his reach was shorter than Jackson’s and he knew exactly what he was trying to do. On the ground, his extra reach wouldn’t count for anything.

A pile of books and papers fluttered over them as they clattered into a desk. The thief was wearing a ski mask over his face and Jackson could just barely see the whites of his eyes. He aimed for them, but the thief was faster. He twisted around, digging his boot into Jackson’s back. Groaning where the boot connected with his not quite healed back, he jerked away, rolling to his feet and putting some space between them.

The thief made a run for it. Hopping the desk, he kicked a rolling chair at Jackson before making a dive for the door. Jackson grabbed him by the back of his hoodie, dragging him back against his chest, one thick arm wrapped around his neck while the other brought up his 9mm, pushing it against the thief’s temple.

Jackson panted. “Really? A ski mask?”

The thief wiggled but didn’t try to escape. It seemed like he was…grinding back into Jackson.

“They didn’t have pantyhose in my color.”

Sonofabitch.

Jackson recognized that annoying tone.

“You know, if you wanted to grope me again all you had to do was ask.”

“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t shoot you?”

Jamie laughed, his voice husky and a little breathless from their fight. “Because it would be messy?”

Jackson growled, pressing the gun against his head a little harder. “I said agoodreason.”

Jamie rolled his body a little, grinding his ass against Jackson’s groin in the most wanton way possible, hands sliding down to cup Jackson’s ass. “Because I’d like it.” Hepurred.

Jackson tsked, shoving Jamie away from him in disgust. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

Jamie pulled the ski mask off his face. Sweat beaded over his pouty lips and his hair was a mess, curly strands sticking up.

“Not you, unfortunately.” Jamie smiled, teeth flashing against the gloom. “Want to change that?”

“I’m reconsidering shooting you.”

Jamie crossed his arms, cocking a hip out. “You can admit that you like me, Jackie Boy.”

Jackson cocked his pistol, leveling at Jamie’s chest.

“You have three seconds.”

“To get on my knees?”

“1…”

“Offices scenes aren’t really my thing, but I could be persuaded to bend over a desk—”

“2…”

“Or you know, I could fuck you this time. I’m verse.” Jamie winked.

Jackson gritted his teeth. Before he could count to three, Jamie sprang forward. Grabbing the gun, which Jackson was stupidly holding in his bad arm, he levered it up over his head. With all his weight he shoved Jackson’s back into the door jam, bringing his knee up into Jackson’s groin.

Spots exploded in his eyes, sharp pain radiating from his balls and elbow in a double whammy. He sank to the floor. Jamie kissed his temple.

“Sorry, Jackie Boy. Gotta go.”