“That’s what I said. Menstrual.” David grinned. He must not have had enough exercise at his morning sparring lesson with Sabrina.
“Outside.” Peter jerked his chin toward the door.
“What if I don’t feel like kicking your ass right now?” David cracked his knuckles. “I’m a busy man.”
“Shut the fuck up, you overgrown turd, and get outside so I can beat your ass.”
Angus dug around in his wallet and slid me a twenty. “On the Butcher.”
I sized up the brothers. On any given day, David would be the obvious pick, but Peter was riled up just enough that he might be able to win it.
“I’ll take it.” I nodded at Angus as we all rose and walked outside.
Sabrina sat in a chair by the pool, her legs in the sun, but the rest of her in the shade. Thank god she was wearing a t-shirt and shorts. If she’d been in a bikini I would have either had to fuck her in the pool shed or wrap her in a towel. Or, possibly, wrap her in a towel and then fuck her in the pool shed. Tomayto, tomahto.
“What’s going on?” She rested the book in her lap and eyed us with intelligent apprehension.
“I’m about to drop a beat down on Frankenstein here.” Peter shook out his hands, then brought his fists up.
“Name calling isn’t nice.” David shook his head in mock disapproval.
“Then you won’t like this next part at all, you dickless piece of chickenshit pie.”
“Jesus.” I laughed and circled around them to stand at Sabrina’s back. I massaged her shoulders as the brothers eyed each other.
“Why is Peter so pissed?” She rolled her head around on her neck as I loosened her up.
“He gets frustrated when he can’t figure shit out with his super smart dork brain. This is a good way to work it off and get him refocused. It’s like a pressure valve.”
“So you’re saying David’s trying to help him?” She didn’t sound convinced as Peter barely missed getting socked in the face by David’s left jab.
I pressed my thumbs into the tense spots along her shoulders. “Yeah, but David also enjoys beating the shit out of people, so it’s really like group therapy.”
Peter landed a vicious punch to David’s midsection, but the big guy answered with a backhand to Peter’s jaw.
I watched as Peter staggered back, then resumed his stance. “That’s going to leave a mark.”
She laughed and dropped her head back, giving me a nice view down her shirt. “Can’t you tell them to work it out like adults?”
“What’s the fun in that?” I leaned down to kiss her forehead.
A bullet shattered the umbrella stand just to the left of where my head had been. The canopy dropped onto us as the crack of the shot finally made it to my ears.
“Up, run!” Tossing off the umbrella, I yanked Sabrina from the chair as another shot whizzed by and exploded into the stone side of the house.
Shielding her with my body, I pushed her ahead of me and toward the house. David and Peter had their pieces out, but it wouldn’t do any good.
“He’s far. Too far. You’ll never get a chance. We need cover.” I pushed Sabrina down behind the bushes that lined the house’s foundation, but it was shitty cover at best.
David kicked over a patio table, which was about as useful as a lemon meringue dildo. We were out in the open, the nearest trees too far to help. We could have jumped in the pool, but it would only take a second for one of us to come up for air and get a brand new mouth through our forehead. Fucked, so fucked. We had to get inside.
Angus yanked at the back door. “What the hell? It’s locked.” He banged on it.
David dove in front of me, two layers of protection for Sabrina. Or maybe he was protecting me. I didn’t give a shit, as long as Sabrina would walk out of this alive.
A thunk drew my eye to the window at my right. A large-caliber slug lodged there, and the window rattled, the bullet-proof glass barely able to contain it. The crack of the shot followed soon after.
“We have to move.” I eyed the side of the house, but the door finally opened, George standing just inside.
I shoved Sabrina into the house and kept my body between her and the gunfire as Angus, Peter, and David hurried in and slammed the door.
“Are you okay?” I ran my hands along Sabrina’s body, her wide blue eyes telegraphing fear and ripping my heart open. I never wanted to see that emotion there again. She’d already spent too much of her life in terror.
“I-I’m fine.” She patted around on my chest. “You?”
“I’m good. The shooter won’t be, though.” The distress in her eyes was a powerful motivator, and I swore to myself that the shooter would pay with blood.