“Go back inside,” Ian called over, opening the gate and passing through. “I’m leaving, so don’t worry about it.”
“I don’t want you to leave, you selfish piece of shit,” Lorcan continued, quickening his stride, the others matching him. “I want you to come inside and beg his forgiveness.”
I closed the gate behind Ian, staying in the yard, and then pivoted to face Lorcan as he closed on me.
“Miro, let’s go,” Ian ordered.
“You didn’t put one picture of him or his mother in that fucking presentation, but he’s the selfish one?” I attacked, all my hostility resurfacing and targeting Ian’s stepbrother.
“Get out of my way, you fuckin’ faggot,” Lorcan snarled when he reached me, placing his hand on my chest to shove me out of the way.
I lost it.
I saw red and I… lost it.
One second he was touching me, the next he was on his knees and I had his wrist in my hand, bent backward at an angle that allowed no movement whatsoever. It was self-defense they taught you at the police academy—how to immobilize people so they couldn’t hurt you. It was reflexive for me, ingrained so long ago even before I was a marshal, back when I was green.
“Say you’re sorry,” I demanded, my voice menacing and low as I put pressure on his wrist that I knew from firsthand experience sent ripples of pain up his forearm and pulsing up through his bicep.
“Let him go!” some guy threatened as he gathered himself to charge.
Ian vaulted the gate and put himself between the rest of Lorcan’s pals and me. “Back the fuck off. He can break his arm like that.”
Everybody froze.
Lorcan made a choking, sniveling sound as I stood there looming over him, watching beads of sweat break out on his forehead.
“Miro,” Ian said gently. “Let him go and we’ll bail.”
“After he apologizes.”
“No,” Ian insisted, moving up beside me and patting my chest. “It’s not worth it.”
But it was to me. “Apologize,” I said to Lorcan.
“I apologize,” he heaved out, starting to tremble.
“Okay,” Ian said, eyes on me. “Come on, let’s go home.”
Releasing Lorcan, I turned to face Ian.
His grin was wicked. “I’m supposed to be the asshole, not you.”
I was going to yell, but he reached for me, grabbing hold of my jacket and dragging me close. “Let’s go get the car, Jones,” he ordered, and his voice, how low it was, and the smirk that accompanied it, made my stomach flutter.
I smiled as he held the gate open for me.
“You think it’s funny to treat people like that?”
I heard the comment, but I didn’t count on the guy coming over the top of the gate at me. I should have—they were young and hotheaded like Lorcan, plus they thought I was laughing at him when all I was doing was responding to Ian. So I shouldn’t have been surprised when he caught me in a flying tackle… or tried.
He flung himself forward, Ian shoved me back, and the poor drunk asshole sailed between us and crashed down onto the middle of the sidewalk.
“Oh!” I yelled, stepping over the fallen man, looking down at him. “Did you break the sidewalk with your face?”
Ian squatted down next to the guy. “What the hell were you trying to do?”
Seeing their friend epically fail took the fight out of the others, and when he rolled to his back, Ian asked if he needed an ambulance.
My phone rang before I could hear the answer.
“Jones.”
“Yessir,” I answered, my back stiffening involuntarily because my boss was on the other end of the call.
“Listen,” he said curtly. “I need you and Doyle to report in right now. Advise me of your present location.”
I shared that we were out in Marynook, and he said he’d give us forty minutes to reach him. If it was going to be longer, he wanted updates from the car.
“May I ask what you need us to do, sir? Should we change or—”
“Don’t ask questions, simply come in. I want you and Doyle here immediately.”
It wasn’t like him to not tell us what was going on.
“Yessir.”
He ended the call and took in the situation. Lorcan’s friend was scraped up, bruised, all of which had nothing to do with Ian or me, except if we were responsible for the impetus.
“We gotta go,” I said to Ian, patting his shoulder as I moved by him to start down the sidewalk. “Boss man wants us now.”
Ian rose, shot a look at Lorcan, who appeared both shocked and confused, and then started down the street toward the car.
“Don’t come back,” Lorcan spat after us, having recovered from his momentary daze to yell. “Neither one of you is welcome.”
“Not a problem,” Ian called back over his shoulder, grabbing hold of my hand and squeezing tight before he leaned in and kissed my cheek. “I got everything I need right here.”