One of my most favorite things about JM Dabney's books is that she writes the imperfect people. They are not models and Gods. They are sometimes overweight, hairy, scarred, broken, you name it. It really pushes the realism at you and you can feel yourself connecting with them better.
In Joker, which is book two in JM Dabney's Executioners Series, we find out his story. You saw him in Ghost, book one, and you know your imagination was getting the better of you. You KNEW there was a story and you KNEW it was going to break your heart.
I won't tell it to you but it is bad. When you're bred from hate, birthed into darkness, and know you're alive simply because you can feel the pain, and still come through the other side, you're rare. You're special. That's Joker. He wears his story on his skin. Not tattoos but scars. There are many and each holds a torturous memory for him. Love is not something Joker thinks he's capable or maybe even worthy of. But then, he never met a guy like Dem before.
It takes an extraordinary person to thaw a soul made of ice. Dem has his own past. He's lived through judgment due to his physical disability. He too longs for love but in his heart, he knows he's worthy of it. And he knows Joker is too.
I really loved this story because, as painful as it was, their pasts have made them into survivors. They are not victims. No. Each is forced to embrace what has been done and now have to learn to love.
The
crowd parted when they saw him coming. Twitch noticed him and removed
the reserved sign from in front of the stool next to the wall where he
could push his back to the wall. He took his usual post, and Dem settled
onto the stool beside him. His knees pushed against Dem’s hip and
thigh.
“Joker, want your usual,” Twitch asked.
Twitch
was small and feminine, he had this energy that was infectious. Twitch
always wanted everyone around him happy. It must’ve been a busy night
already because Twitch had his long black hair twisted up into a messy
bun.
“What can I get for your friend?” Twitch attempted to hide his curiosity but failed.
The boy was nosy as fuck, and he was also a matchmaker. Shit, he made himself a target, just what he didn’t need.
“Hi, Twitch, I’m Dem, could I just get a water please?”
“Sure thing, Dem.”
This
wasn’t the place for intimate conversation, the music too loud, and a
tension of unleashed violence thick in the packed room.
Dem turned to him and leaned in, he stood his ground and didn’t flinch away. Warm breath fanned his jaw, then his ear.
“Just
because you brought me to a bar doesn’t mean we can’t talk. It only
makes it where we have to get closer. Don’t think I’m not onto you,
Jackson.”
“Shit.”
His muttered curse earned him a chuckle from Dem. The man straightened as their drinks arrived.
“You’re so cute together,” Twitch squealed and did a little hip wiggle.
“We’re not—”
“Thank you, Twitch. Has he always been so stubborn?”
“You
have no idea, he’s a nightmare, but some great and plentiful sex should
loosen him up a bit,” Twitch said and winked. “Okay, back to work,
holler when you need a refill.”
“I like him.”
“He’s married.”
“Yeah, I know that, and he’s not my type, Jackson.”
“I gotta take a piss,” he announced and surged off the bar stool. He headed for the hallway that led to the bathrooms.
He
needed a minute to himself, the close-quarter conversation hadn’t been
in the plan. The music and all was supposed to make talking impossible,
but he should’ve known better. Hadn’t he watched his friends over the
years, the way they’d get close, whisper in each other’s ears, and
exchange kisses between sentences, sometimes words?
He
ducked into the women’s room knowing it would be empty and leaned his
back against the door. The music muffled on the other side.
“Why are you hiding in the women’s room?”
His
eyes flew open, and he found a grinning Hunter seated on the bathroom
sink. Hunter was married to Wren and also Linus. How did they keep each
other happy? How weren’t they jealous? Something in his gut told him if
he had a man of his own that he’d be jealous—possessive of the man he
considered his.
“Why are you?”
“I come in here for my breaks, Twitch does too, but normally he isn’t alone.”
“I fucked up, man.”
“And how is that? Start a brawl already? I’ve only been in here ten minutes, so you couldn’t have done too much damage.”
“No, I brought a guy here.”
“Please
tell me this isn’t the first fucking date, Joker?” Hunter waved his
hands in the air. “Don’t even answer that, it is. You know a first date
should be in a restaurant, where y’all can talk and get to know each
other.”
“This was supposed to scare him off so he’d give up on this dating me thing.”
Hunter threw his back and laughed his ass off at him.
“What the fuck is so funny?”
“You,
Joker, come on, the man wants to date you after meeting you and your
charming personality. Wren said he threatened you not to kill Dem.”
“How did you know it was Dem?”
“Everyone else in town knows you and are mostly frightened of you, it had to be a newbie.”
“But why me? Fuck, I hate this shit.”
“You just hate people liking you, even though your friends love your cranky ass.”
“I don’t know how to do this, you know—”
“I
don’t know shit, Joker. I know you, you’re fiercely protective, like
you are with Harper. I know most of the shit you get into is when some
asshole thinks he can put his hands on a woman or someone weaker than
them, different than them. You might not think so, but you’re a pretty
great guy when you’re not trying to kill someone.”
“All this mushy talk is making me want to puke.”
“Then
get back to your date. If what I hear is right, he’s pretty fucking
hot. He’s probably got a ring around him at the bar right now.”
“Fuck.”
He stormed out of the bathroom and down the hall. He hated when other
people were right. It wasn’t a ring, but it was enough.
Some
pretty boy in leathers was all up on Dem. The man’s hand on Dem’s lower
back. He could almost hear the sweet talking going on. Maybe he should
let it, Dem could go home—fuck no. He squared his shoulders and
stretched to his full height of six-three. He wasn’t the most muscular
man around, but it didn’t always take a bodybuilder frame to take a
fucker down.
He walked over, stopped behind Dem, and took the stranger’s wrist in a steely grip.
“He gave you permission to touch him?”
“Jackson, I was just telling this gentleman my date would be right back.” Dem turned to him.
He
didn’t take his glare off the pretty boy. He made himself not tense up
when Dem’s arm went around his waist. He released the guy fast enough
for the stranger to stumble a bit. Soft fingertips touched his jaw and
turned his head to look at Dem. Dem was smiling at him, his long, wavy
hair framed his face. He didn’t like the way that smile made him feel.
He didn’t like any of it. It made him feel off; like he wasn’t himself.
“Jackson, don’t kill him.”
Then
it happened, lips that were soft beyond belief touched his. He heard a
pain-filled grunt, but he was too focused on his first kiss. A
steel-band circled his chest. He jerked away.
“We have to go.”
“Okay.”
Pity
didn’t exist in the depths of Dem’s eyes. Dem’s lush mouth still curved
into a content, almost sweet smile. He needed to get away—now.
