Is he jealous too? Like I am?
He glances at me and gives me an easy smile. It’s my smile, and my breath catches because he’s so fucking beautiful. The conversation around us just fades into the background, and I really want to touch him.
I scan the table.
No one is paying attention to us except for Charlie. She has a knowing look on her face as her eyes bounce between us, and I wink at her.
The sharp sound of glass shattering cuts through our revelry. Someone hard and muscular hits me, pulling meroughly to the hardwood floor and rolling us so that we’re under the large table. Pain explodes where my knee lands.
Someone screams—Fiona? Charlie?
There’s a warm weight covering my body. The smell of cedar and beer floods my senses.
It’s Marcus.
I blink, staring at the broken glass around us, shimmering in the kitchen light like some sort of mirage.
Marcus raises himself slightly, scanning my body, his eyes frightened. I realize I’m shaking. “Are you okay, baby boy?” His voice comes out raspy. “Fuck, you’re trembling. Are you hurt?”
“No,” I whisper. “I’m okay.”
His hands tangle in my hair, and he pushes it back from my face, the callused pads of his fingers rough on my cheeks. “Are you sure? Fuck!” He sniffles and a tear snakes down his face.
“Hey,” I whisper. “I’m okay. You’re okay.”
We scooch from under the table and sit up, eyes locked.
“Fuck, Dad, are you okay?” Lincoln’s voice cuts through our moment. Link is kneeling in front of John, fussing over a bloody cut on his forehead,
“Yeah,” John gives a watery laugh. “Just a scratch.”
“Let’s get downstairs.” Link is clearly about to lose his shit, and I don’t blame him. “I’ll call my security guy to get a team to search the property.”
“Guys,” Trey murmurs. “There’s a note.”
“What?” Fiona looks pale. Frightened. And a little angry. She approaches Trey and takes the note from his hand.
Marcus helps me to my feet. I stand behind him, breathing deeply as I resist the urge to slide my finger below my waistband as the adrenaline starts to wane.
Fiona looks at Brantley and Sebastian. “He’s gonna . . . I can’t. I have to go. I have to run.” She sobs, covering her face, and steps into Brantley’s arms, and my heart fucking aches for her.
Seb grabs the note. “Is this from your stepfather?”
Fiona looks at him and nods solemnly. “Yes, it’s from Dennis. It’s definitely his handwriting this time.”
Seb’s head snaps up. “This time? Fiona, did you suspect someone else wrote the other note?”
“No?” She looks guilty as fuck.
Brantley sighs. “Really, Fi?”
“I guess I convinced myself it was him disguising his handwriting. I didn’t want to believe there was another threat out there. One psychopath is enough, you know?”
I look away because this interaction feels so intimate.
Marcus rests a gentle hand on my hip. “C’mon, guys, let’s get downstairs. We’re really exposed in this room. Let’s get John cleaned up and figure out what happens next.”
Fiona,Sebastian, and Brantley left quickly. Fiona was obviously shaken, and her boyfriends looked like they wanted to commit murder.
