Gemma cried out.
He pivoted toward her room just as the front door was crashed in. Instantly he slid into the entryway and caught sight of a hulking form. Without a sound he ducked his head and charged, hitting the interloper in his gut and lifting him. They crashed into the wall and plaster flew. The guy kneed Jethro in the rib cage, and pain exploded through his torso.
Countering, he sent a series of hits and kicks that had the attacker grunting. The room was too dark to make anything out. The guy clapped him on the head and Jethro caught his wrist, yanking him down and rolling on top of him, his fist pulled back for a strike to the neck.
The light flipped on and he stopped cold.
Wolfe grinned beneath him and turned only his head toward Gemma, who stood wide-eyed at the end of the hallway near the light switch. “I told you he could fight.”
“Bloody hell.” Jethro rolled off Wolfe, stood, and held out a hand to help him up. “Whatare you doing?”
Wolfe stood and shook out his neck. “I couldn’t sleep so I scoutedthe perimeter.”
“In this storm?” Gemma asked, her hair curling to her pink tank top, which revealed high, firm breasts. The top had matching shorts that showed toned legsand bare feet.
Jethro’s body flew wide awake.
“Yeah,” Wolfe said. “I heard you cry out and came in through the front door.”
Jethro sighed and forced improper thoughts about the brunette to outer space. “Sorry I hit you.”
Wolfe clapped him on the shoulder. “No problem. A guy comes in your front door, you don’t stop to chat. You take him down, and hard. That was some great fighting, Brit.”
Jethro clenched his teeth. “I could’ve hurt you.”
“Probably,” Wolfe said agreeably. “But when I barely fought back, you transitioned to hurt rather than kill. So we’re all good.”
Jethro rubbed his aching rib cage. “You could’ve broken one of my ribs with that knee shot.”
“But I didn’t,” Wolfe said. He looked over his shoulder at the broken door. “Serena is goingto be pissed.”
Rosco wandered down the hallway, looked at them both, then turned back around. His tail wagged and, swear to the saints, he looked like heshook his head.
“That is one intriguing dog,” Gemma murmured, turning to watch him go.
“Jet-ro?” Trudy toddled past Gemma, dragging her blanket, her eyes sleepy. She looked at Wolfe and then at the door. Her little brow drew down and she increased her pace until she reached Jethro. “Up.”
Well, all right. He obediently lifted her against his chest. She wrapped one arm around his neck and pouted her lips, looking at Wolfe. “Who’s him?”
“That’s Wolfe,” Jethro said, hoping she didn’t kick his aching rib cage. “He helped us move your stuff here, remember?”
She studied Wolfe. “Him’s your best friend?”
Bloody hell. Jethro sighed. “He’s my best friend.”
“That’s right,” Wolfe said,his grin wide.
“Oh.” Trudy’s body relaxed against him. “Okay. I don’t havea best friend.”
Wolfe shrugged. “I didn’t have one until this summer and I’m old. You havetons of time.”
She laid her head on Jethro’s shoulder and pretty much ripped out his heart. “Rot-co is my friend. Maybe my best friend?”
“Sure,” Wolfe said easily. “That’s a good dog and a great friend. He has another friend named Kat that maybe you could meet tomorrow. Doyou like cats?”
“Yeah,” she said, yawning widely.
Gemma walked toward them, holding out her arms. “Let’s go back to sleep, baby.”
