“I don’t care if you tidy your room. No shooting.”
It clearly wasn’t the answer Elijah was looking for. “Maybe tomorrow?”
“Stop being stupid,” Nicolette told him. “He’s not going to let you because you’re a stupid baby!”
“Uh, no—” Jericho started, but he was too late. Elijah had already launched himself across the room, arms flailing, screaming as he went. He had more energy than efficiency, so he wasn’t doing much actual harm, and Nicolette had obviously been expecting the attack and was over on her back, kicking at her brother whenever he got too close.
“Stupid sucky baby,” she singsonged.
“Fuck you, bitch,” Jericho’s cherubic little brother replied, and things went downhill from there.
It was hard to get between them when they were so quick and so damn low to the ground, and hard to break them up while Jericho had to be careful not to hurt either one. “Stop it,” he tried, but there was no way either of them could hear him over their own shrieked obscenities.
He finally got a good grip on Elijah and lifted him straight up in the air, turning to avoid a kick from Nicolette that would have hit dangerously close to his own balls. It might have been over, except Nicolette swarmed up to the back of the couch and then took a flying leap at Jericho, landing somewhere near his shoulders where she grabbed hold of his hair and then pulled herself up to lunge at her brother.
That was when the front door slammed shut, and both kids froze. “Shit,” Nicolette whispered, a good vocalization of Jericho’s own mental response, and all three of them turned somewhat guiltily toward the door.
“Have I come at a bad time?” Wade asked, his expression serious enough to make it clear he was truly amused.
“Uncle Wade!” Nicolette cried, and she slithered down Jericho’s body and ran for the door.
“Did you bring your gun?” Elijah asked, squirming to free himself from Jericho’s grip.
Jericho let the boy go. If the battle resumed, it would be Wade’s—UncleWade’s—problem. But Elijah joined his sister in hugging Wade’s legs as if there had never been anything but love and understanding between them.
Jericho looked up from the touching scene and found Wade’s gaze on him.
“Hope it’s okay that I stopped by,” Wade said. “I did knock, but I guess you were a little distracted.”
“Wade,” Jericho said. He knew what the feds would say about this visit, knew what Kayla would say. Really, what any person with any damn common sense would say. But he was Jericho, so instead he came up with, “I’m glad you’re here.” And he meant it.
