Page 49 of Wicked Deceit
So, what waits for me when I enter the lion's den with nothing but a pretty dress and anxiety? Death? Kidnapping? Anything? Perpetually teetering on the edge of unknowing is going to push me over the edge.
"Shh, Angel," Seger mumbles, pulling me closer. "What's wrong?"
I swallow the bile swimming in my throat and snuggle deep into his bare chest, taking in his scent.
"The Christmas Charity event is in three weeks. What are we going to walk into?" I whisper, trying to quiet the rampant anxiety choking the air from my lungs.
"It'll be okay, Angel. We'll come up with a plan. Chase is your date, and we'll all be there to keep an eye on you. Okay?" His voice is rough with sleep, and his fingers work through my hair.
I understand what he's saying and what reassurances he's trying to give me. But I can't help the nagging feeling that the other shoe is about to drop, and we're in for a world of fucking hurt.
It’sbeenthreeweekssince Carter, Seger, and Zepp accompanied me to Thanksgiving dinner, and I swore my brother was done fucking with them. He poked and prodded and antagonized the boys until they were squirming in their seats with grimaces on their faces. Talk about a fucking awkward experience. They should just be thankful my father wasn’t there to scare the shit out of them, too. We ended up making it through and had a nice dinner. The boys and I came up with a plan for tonight that night, discussing where we'd meet inside the event, and what we'd do. They promised to never leave my side, but we'll see because tonight is the night of hell, and I don't know if I'm ready.
Chase should thank his lucky stars he was in Louisiana throughout Thanksgiving break and wasn’t here. But now that he is, he’s in for a hell of a bumpy ride tonight. And by hell of a ride, I mean he’s in for literal hell. Not only at the event itself, but here in the rental house my parents found in East Point to make our drive easier to the hotel where the charity event is being held.
My brother’s eyes twinkle with delight at the terror etched onto Chase’s face. “So, you’re one of the shits who has been shacking up with my little sister?” Bodhi chortles, placing his forearms on the kitchen island's countertop we’re all surrounding. He sips his second glass of whiskey, rolling the ice in his glass like some mob boss awaiting the snitch’s answer.
Frowning, I glare at the oversized prick I call my brother. Disowning is a thing, right? If it is, his ass is out—forever. Never mind, he changed his prickish ways over the past year. But he’ll be dead to me if he continues down this I’m-your-big-brother-I must-protect-you path. Now, he’s intentionally being a jerk to make Chase squirm.
“You’ve met. We’ve been over this,” I say through clenched teeth, ten seconds away from punching him in the face.
His beady brown eyes eat away at Chase, looking him over from head to toe. He’s eating his very existence apart. Stiffening his muscles, he puffs up his chest, looking at Chase like he’s about to grab a steak knife and stab him through the heart. Fuck my life.
“Yeah, but this one wasn’t at Thanksgiving dinner,” Bodhi says through a big, toothy grin, pointing a finger in Chase’s direction. “I interrogated the other three over dinner, and we came to an agreement. But this one?” He cocks a brow, stepping toward Chase’s trembling body.
Bodhi may be their football idol, but right now, he’s looking at Bodhi with terror in his eyes and the urge to run. His fingers twitch at his side, and I can tell he’s plotting his escape routes.
“Don’t listen to him,” I say, grasping Chase’s shaking and sweaty hand. “He’s a bully.” I narrow my eyes on my stupid brother’s smirking face. He’s loving every second of making my poor boyfriend sweat bullets.
“I’m not a bully, just a concerned brother,” Bodhi retorts without missing a beat.
“He was in the parking lot. You met,” I say, trying to count to ten in my head.
One, don’t stab my brother. Two, don’t maim my brother. Three, don’t trip him over a cliff. I puff out a breath once I make it to ten, and I’m certain I won’t smack some sense into him. He’s come a long way since he first met all of them and finally wrapped his head around my happiness, but it doesn’t stop him from puffing out his chest and acting like a damn caveman. Brotherly duties, my ass. He just wants to be a jerk.
“Mhm, but he wasn’t at Thanksgiving,” Callie retorts, leaning against the island with a manic grin spreading across her traitorous face.
“See?” Bodhi says, swirling his drink again. “He wasn’t at Thanksgiving,” he mimics Callie's voice, leaning forward.
I throw my head back, staring up at the ceiling. Please, send down a lightning bolt and blast my brother away. Set him on fire. Cut off his damn tongue before he scares Chase away for good. I groan when it doesn’t happen and sigh, looking at Chase. We’re going to have to endure this Hell for a short time more.
“Oh my gosh, don’t you kids look amazing!” I breathe a sigh of relief when my mother's voice shuts Bodhi's bullying down. He frowns, slicing his finger across his neck, promising a world of hurt later. Chase sputters, shaking like a damn leaf. Pfft. Fuck that. I'll hide all my boyfriends from my brother from here on out.
Mom sashays into the kitchen with a megawatt grin, lighting up the room. Her dark, sparkling brown eyes light up at the sight of all of us standing around the kitchen island. A pleased hum of satisfaction slips from her throat when she sees my hand in Chase’s and gives him an approving nod.
His hand squeezes mine when my father’s eyes glide across the room, briefly narrowing at Chase with suspicion. Complete and utter panic sweeps across Chase’s face when he looks at me white as a sheet, and his hand squeezes mine even harder to the point it feels like my bones will crack.
“It’ll be okay,” I murmur, squeezing his hand back and trying to sound reassuring.
“You say that now,” he mumbles through a shaky breath, stiffening his spine. “He looks like he wants to eat me.” His gray eyes stray to my father once more, who stands across the room with deadly intent settling over his face. Shit. My father might murder every single one of my boyfriends.
“RIP, boys. I’ll stand by your graves every day and weep, remembering the good times we had,” I mumble, shaking my head. Chase’s body jolts, and he barely stifles his yelp. I furrow my brows. “What?” I ask, cocking my head to the side.
“You said that out loud,” he frantically hisses at me, darting his eyes around the room. “You don’t think?” He trails off, heaving a breath. “I’m going to die,” he whines in a soft voice, trying not to draw my brother’s attention to him.
“Oh,” I say, biting my bottom lip, trying to hide the smile threatening to emerge. “You won’t die.” I pat his arm, and he glares at me, obviously not convinced about his safety. Whatever, I won’t let my brother or my father tear him limb from limb.
“And look at you,” my mother says, looking at Chase with a warm, motherly smile. “It’s so wonderful to see you again.” The tension drops from Chase’s shoulders, as they slide back into their normal position and away from his ears. He sighs with burning cheeks when my mother steps in front of him, squeezing his shoulders in a small embrace.
