Page 15 of Karter

Jak stepped in front of me and picked up the phone. As he studied the douchebag standing in front of me, he slowly stepped toward him with his arm extended. As the man reached for the phone, he said his parting remarks.

He tossed his head my direction, “Maybe you should keep her on a leash.”

In an instantaneous move, Jak dropped the phone, pulled the man’s arm toward his chest, and spun him half around. Now with his back at Jak’s chest, Jak immediately slammed the man’s body against the door of the car and pinned his right arm behind his back. As he lifted the man’s arm upward, the douchebag screamed.

Holy shit!

Fuck yes. Jak’s a bad-ass.

I fucking knew it.

“Owww. What the fuck?”

Jak moved his face to beside the man’s left ear. As he spoke he had a tone of authority to his voice that couldn’t be easily dismissed.

“Listen to me and listen carefully,” Jak insisted.

Break his arm, Jak. Snap it off and toss it in the street.

“Leashes are for dogs. She’s not a dog. She’s my fucking wife. Now, when you see her again, and you very well may, her name is Karter. I’m Jak. My best advice to you is this,” he paused and looked over his shoulder.

Wife?

He turned and pressed his chin into the man’s shoulder as he pulled upward on his arm, “I’m going to release you. Get in your car and go do whatever it was you were planning to before this happened. Look at it as a lesson. I saw what happened from my truck, and you damned near hit her. Don’t text and drive, and don’t be disrespectful to people. You never know just who it is you might encounter.”

“Understood?” Jak asked.

“Yeah,” the man grunted.

Jak pulled upward on his arm.

“Fuck dude. Yeah,” the man screeched.

Jak pulled up on his arm again and with more force.

Oh fuck, that looks painful.

“Yes,” the man screamed.

I closed my knife and slid it into my pocket.

Jak released the man’s arm, immediately stepped to the side and stood with his knees slightly bent and his hands raised to his chest. The man slowly lowered his arm, rubbed his shoulder, and bent down to pick up his phone. As he stood and opened his car door, he turned and nodded his head once toward Jak. As the man slowly drove away, Jak walked backward slowly between the car and where I stood. Jak continued to watch as the car disappeared into the parking lot, and then turned to face me.

“Move your bike before someone hits it. I’m parked over there,” he half demanded as he pointed toward his truck.

I stood and stared, still in awe at what had happened. As he straightened his shirt, I saw a portion of a tattoo under his sleeve – on his bicep. As he tugged his sleeve downward and slowly walked toward his truck, I stared at his ass. He was gorgeous, any idiot could see it. But there was so much more to Jak than his looks. He was a complex person, and I wanted to know more about him. I needed to know everything. As he took the last few steps to his truck, I smiled at his methodical walk.

I want to see you naked, Jak.

I hopped onto my bike, put on my helmet and slowly maneuvered through the parking lot to where Jak was parked. As I parked beside his truck, he opened his door and got out. As I draped the chin strap of my helmet over the handlebars, he stood beside me and shook his head.

“Who taught you how to handle a knife?” he asked.

Oh fuck. Here we go.

Bring the criticism.

“He was a douchbag,” I sighed.

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