“Nothing,” Atticus muttered.
“Oh, no. That was definitely something,” Avi said. “Freckles, was it? Well, now that’s just fucking adorable.”
“It’s a little obvious, if you ask me,” Asa said. “There were so many to choose from. Red. Ginger. Fire crotch.”
Atticus could feel Jericho tensing beside him, could feel his anger. He twisted his wrist free under the table, then threaded their fingers together, squeezing his hand, silently asking him not to engage.
“Careful, I think you’re pissing off his guard dog,” Adam said, his tone menacing.
“I don’t think he likes you picking on our big brother,” Archer noted, seeming in no hurry to join them in taunting Atticus.
“Well, if he beats up everybody who talks shit about Atticus, he’s gonna get real tired,” Avi teased.
He wasn’t wrong, but that didn’t stop Jericho’s hand from squeezing the life from Atticus’s fingers.
Asa snickered. “Better get your man, Freckles. He looks pretty tough but I don’t think he could take us—”
Glass exploded against the wall, causing all eyes to go to Thomas, who was looking at all of them with a combination of disgust and exhaustion. “Leave him alone.”
“Dad—” Asa started.
“Not one more fucking word.” Thomas jabbed a finger in Asa’s direction, his tone leaving no room for argument.
“It’s fine,” Atticus muttered.
Thomas shot to his feet. “No. No, it’s not. I taught you better than this. I taughtallof you better than this. Didn’t I? You’re all grown adults with jobs, yet you bicker like children. You taunt each other like fucking children. We’re here to do a job. I think Adam’s right—”
“That’s a first,” Archer muttered, eyes dropping to his glass when Thomas cut his gaze to him.
Thomas closed his eyes for a long moment, like he was praying for guidance or peace or maybe just duct tape to wrap around his children’s mouths. “If high tech isn’t yielding results, then we go old school. If there’s some kind of synthetic drug on the market or some kind of black market organ donation program operating out of this city, we need to find those responsible and punish them.”
“I agree, sir,” Jericho said, earning a snort from Adam. Once more, Thomas shot a look at Adam, who withered beneath his hard stare. “I have my own guys for that. Guys that the neighborhood knows and trusts.”
“You’ve got guys? What does that mean?” August asked with his usual calculating curiosity.
It was Jericho who addressed him. “It means you guys aren’t the only ones out there trying to keep people safe. I can handle the questioning and I can take care of whoever hurt my sister.”
“You’re not doing this alone,” Atticus said. “If this is a network, you’re going to need more than a bunch of kids.”
“Those kids have more kills under their belts than most soldiers,” Jericho reminded.
“I’m not saying they don’t. But you’re going to need more than them. Let us help you.”
“You guys can’t even help yourselves.”
“Our familial bickering aside, we’re actually pretty adept at large scale sieges,” August murmured. “Use your guys to get the information, but let us help with the clean-up.”
“Please,” Lucas asked, Noah nodding earnestly beside him.
Jericho looked to Atticus, who nodded as well. Once more, he sighed. “Yeah. Yeah, okay.”
Jericho was silent most of the way back to his place. He didn’t even ask Atticus if he wanted to be dropped off. Hell, he hadn’t even asked if he’d wanted to drive his own car. He’d just plucked the keys from Atticus’s hand, held the passenger door open for him, and walked around to the driver’s side. And Atticus had let him, hadn’t uttered a single protest, just watched him, studying Jericho in that way he did when he was trying to gauge how to behave around him.
There was something soothing in the way Atticus just let Jericho lead, let him do what he wanted. Jericho needed it. Needed to feel like he had some control in an uncontrollable situation.
Once they were on the road, his hand gravitated to Atticus’s thigh, squeezing slightly, needing Atticus’s touch to ground him. After a few blocks, he felt a hand settle over his. He didn’t acknowledge it. He didn’t want to do anything that might cause Atticus to startle.
Affection seemed to embarrass Atticus. Well, not affection so much as pointing out that the action could be seen as affectionate. Atticus wanted to be touched, needed it even, but he was embarrassed to ask for it and embarrassed to admit it. Atticus was so much more accepting of violence and vengeance. He didn’t flinch when Jericho was hacking a person to pieces, but if Atticus was to acknowledge that he had initiated any type of affection, Jericho was certain Atticus would hurl himself from the car rather than look at him.
