“Wow,” Manu said. “That was incredible, though I didn’t recognize the song. The girl has talent.”
“Thanks. The song was big in the States.” She didn’t mention it was her own—a song she’d written and her breakout single. “You probably know this one.” She broke out into an old Beatles tune.
Manu flashed her a grin and joined in, their voices melding well. She clapped once they finished.
“Wait, let me get Hone’s guitar. He won’t mind.” He disappeared and returned with a guitar. Seconds later, he settled beside her on the brown leather couch. “What about this one?”
One song flowed into another, and Cassie couldn’t remember having such a fun jam session.
They finished the next song, and Manu wrapped an arm around her shoulders, hugging her close.
“Well.” Hone stood inside the room, his arms folded across his chest. His gaze fired salvos of anger. “This is cozy.”
Cassie jumped, gave aneepof fright at his unexpected appearance. Manu’s arm tightened fractionally before he released her and stood.
“I stopped by to see if you could help me with work stuff.” Manu paused as if he wanted to say more but couldn’t because she was present.
Hone folded his arms over his chest. “I have a phone.”
“I tried to ring you. I figured you were in a blind spot, and I’d catch you here.”
“So you made yourself at home.”
Hone’s flat tone had Cassie frowning. What was with him? All they’d done was play music together.
Manu lifted his chin. “Yeah. I didn’t think you’d mind, not after ourdiscussionlast night. Plus you have rules, remember?” The strange emphasis on his words raised curiosity as to the content of their chat.
Hone prowled closer, tension broadcast in his tight jaw and rigid shoulders. “I mind.”
Manu’s quick scrutiny lurked with devilment, like a child intent on skullduggery. “I’ve changed my mind. I’m entitled.”
“You understood my position,” Hone snapped.
“Snooze and you lose.”
Hone sucked in a breath, and somehow, he swelled, his face and arms changing color.
Cassie blinked. Was that red?
“Cuz, your temper is on display.”
Hone roared and sprang at Manu. They grappled. Fists swung. Hone growled. The coffee table tipped over, clipped by a foot.
Cassie jumped to her feet, rescued her guitar, squeezed against the wall. She gawked at the pair, heart misfiring at the fierceness of their clash, the fury pulsing in the air, the lash of danger.
A chair went flying. A big chair.
They weren’t mucking around.
“Stop it,” she shouted.
They ignored her entreaty.
Hone punched Manu, grazed his jaw. Manu toppled and hit the floor. Hone sprang at his cousin, growling like an enraged dog.
Blood. There was blood. She swallowed, spied her handbag beside the couch and scooped it up. Handbag and guitar in hand, she retreated, not understanding the cause, the fierce fighting, the brutality.
Cassie strode out the door and left them to their bloody war.
