“What?”
“Suffice to say he’s unavailable. Do you want to leave a message? I’ll make sure he gets it at my earliest convenience.”
“How about you get the fuck out of his house.”
“No.”
“You can’t honestly expect me to believe that he invited you here,” Jericho scoffs. “I know my brother, and he doesn’t make mistakes like that.”
“Perhaps not, but here I am. Without force, I’d like to add.”
“Get out.”
“No, I don’t think I will.”
Jericho stalks forward, furious. “You’re not welcome here. Not you, or your lapdog, or anyone even closely associated with you. I’m not going to ask you to leave again.”
“The definition of insanityisdoing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results.” I’m not leaving, and it’s best he accepts that. He can do whatever he came here for and then leave.
I don’t see the hit coming, which is my first mistake. Idealistic of me to think Jericho wouldn’t get physical. He’s always looking for an excuse.
He gets me square in the mouth, splitting my bottom lip good enough I can taste the metallic tang of blood. The second shot I’m prepared for.
“Stop!” Matthew’s alarmed cry barely registers, my focus entirely on the man intent on doing me more bodily harm. He’d be easier to incapacitate if I was willing to hurt him. Kill him. Jericho may hate me, but the feeling isn’t mutual. I’ve always admired his loyalty to Hunter, his willingness to put himself into any situation for his brother. I don’t worry so much when I know Hunter is with Jericho.
Though if he keeps trying to hit me, we’re going to have a new problem.
Grasping his forearm, I stop the next swing and twist him around. He headbutts me from behind, pain in my upper nose making my eyes water. Keeping my hold on him, I kick in his knee and then pull out my gun before he can recover. When he twists to find it aimed between his eyes he stops, sneering.
“Dirty tactic.”
“Rich coming from the person who swung first and without warning.” I’ve never claimed to be a man of honour when it comes to my life or my personal safety.
“You deserved it.”
I concede that point. “There’s no need for unpleasantries, Jericho. I can be a gentleman if you can.”
“You don’t know the meaning of the word.” He shoves my gun out of the way and gets to his feet. Once I’m sure he’s not going to come at me again, I put it back into its holster and then raise my hands in mock deference.
“Truce?”
“Fuck off.”
Matthew surprises us both by pushing between us, taking my head between his hands. “You’re bleeding.”
“That’s what happens when someone punches me in the face.” Invincibility isn’t one of my many talents. And Jericho is just as trained as I am in where to hit to make it hurt the most. Not an opponent I would ever underestimate.
“Then maybe you shouldn’t be fighting,” Matthew remarks. He grips my chin and turns my head, frowning at the cut. “Doesn’t look like it needs stitches, just some cleaning.”
“I didn’t start the fight.” I can control myself, unlike other people in the room. When tensions run high, Jericho is always the first to escalate the situation. That’s his flaw, not mine. I have my own.
“What are you, five?”
Jericho snorts and then morphs his face into a blank expression when Matthew turns the scathing look on him. I can see the teacher coming through. I imagine that look has cowed many a young child into behaving in the classroom.
“Sit down,” Matthew orders, giving me a nudge in the direction of a nearby stool at the breakfast bar. I move without thinking. Now that I’m sitting, we’re roughly the same height. “Let me find some supplies,” he says, almost to himself as he moves away towards the kitchen cupboards.
Jericho blinks at him. I at least can understand the confusion. He’s a mini tornado. A strangely cute one. “He can sort himself out, he’s an adult. I’m here to collect you.”
