Discord raises his eyebrows. “What? You have something to say, Mr. I’ve watchedThe Shawshank Redemptionone hundred times?”
Interesting.
Two brutal men drawn to profound stories of hope and loss and salvation. Interesting indeed.
“Don’t mind me.” Havoc makes a shooing motion with his hand. In his other is a bottle of Kentucky Bourbon Ale. He’s been nursing it for the whole hour we’ve been out here. “Keep going with your little game.”
“You really are a fucking grumpy prick,” Discord chides him.
Havoc finally takes a swig of the beer while flipping his brother the finger. This is, by far, the most relaxed I’ve seen Havoc in the three months I’ve known him.
“So,” Discord says to me. “What’s your favorite movie? Wait.” He holds up his hands. Don’t tell me. Some girlie rom-com flick, amirite?”
My turn to give him the finger. “Aliens, mofo.”
“Oh, I like her, Hav.” He practically eye-fucks me, bringing me back to when we met when he made the simple act of kissing the top of my hand obscene. The way his gaze roams over me makes me feel like I’m not wearing a single stitch of clothing. Meanwhile, I’m wrapped up like a burrito in a North Face jacket, baggy blue sweatpants, and black Uggs. Let’s not forget my sad, drooping ponytail. My sorry state confirms the fact that Discord Taylor would flirt with a decomposed corpse if it meant goading his brother. “If you don’t want her, I’ll keep her.”
See?
But Havoc doesn’t rise to Discord’s bait. Instead, he gives him one hell of a glare, loaded with enough warning that, shockingly, makes Discord back off.
“Aw, I’m only messing with you, Kerri.” Then the wicked bastard one-ups Havoc. His entire ridiculously handsome face contorts into a deviously delicious grin. “It’d be borderline incestuous for us to fuck seeing how you and my brother are obviously going to—”
Discord yelps as he narrowly dodges the empty beer bottle Havoc chucks at his head.
“Iwillbeat the living shit out of you if you don’t stop tormenting her,” Havoc threatens Discord.
Tormenting me? God, no. Discord’s teasing Havoc is so wonderfully normal, and right now, ‘normal’ is exactly what I need.
Discord waves a hand through the air, dismissing Havoc’s warning. “Whatever, cranky-ass.” Then to me, “Where were we, gorgeous?”
I think a moment before answering. “Favorite food?”
“Nope, did that one already.”
“That’s right, sorry. Yours is burritos, and you said Havoc’s is seafood.”
“And yours is your mother’s mushroom risotto,” Havoc announces, back to staring off into the trees.
I can’t stop the smile that tugs at my lips. Hehasbeen listening. “Okay, let me think… Favorite athlete.”
“I love me some Jeremy McGrath,” Discord says without hesitation.
“Who?”
“You’re killing me, Kerri,” he groans. “McGrath is the greatest supercross champion who ever graced us with his exalted existence.”
“Ah, okay. Understood.” I should have realized Discord would choose someone in the motocross world given how the Unholy are huge into the sport.
“Georges Jobe.”
“Pardon?” I say to Havoc.
“Georges-fucking-Jobe,” he says louder.
“Brazilian motocross racer,” Discord adds. “He won the Motocross World Championships from 1979 to 1992. Havoc worships him.”
“Fuck off,” Havoc growls.
