a good thing that he hadn’t even gotten the truck stopped when Essence was flying out the back door, her face set to panic.
Or maybe it was ticked.
One quiet night.
That was it.
Now they had . . .
What?
“No,” Rebel breathed, and her fucking door opened.
“Rebel!” he shouted, his heart jumping, his mood rocketing instantly to pissed as fuck when her seatbelt slammed back, and she was out before he got to a full stop.
She slammed the door and was racing to Essence when Rush cut the ignition, threw open his door and angled out, seeing Speck had followed Essence.
Well there was that.
And Speck looked ticked.
But he didn’t look bloody.
Rush prowled to Essence and Rebel, his focus on Speck.
Speck just shook his head.
“What?” Rebel shrieked.
He barely made it to her before she was flying toward Essence’s back door.
“God fucking dammit,” he bit out, glancing at Essence, reading from close the woman looked far from happy before he took long strides to Speck, checking the jog when Speck opened his mouth.
“Her mother and brother are here,” Speck snarled, and Rush took from that, however long their visit had lasted, they hadn’t made a good impression.
That was when he broke into a jog.
They were in the parlor and he knew that because that was where he tracked Rebel’s shouting.
“You don’t get to do this!”
“Fuck you, Reb,” a male voice said. “Where is that fuck?”
“That fuck, your brother, is not here,” Rebel snapped back as Rush entered the room.
Her oldest brother, a man who looked a lot like Diesel, but smaller, less in shape, nowhere near as good looking (all of which could explain a lot of things) with spiteful eyes and an ugly twist to his mouth was facing off on Rebel.
“We know he’s here, Rebel,” a woman who didn’t look like Diesel, or this man, or Rebel, all she looked was small and . . . nothing else.
If she walked out of the room, he couldn’t have told a soul what the woman who was Rebel’s mom looked like.
“He’s not,” Rebel bit.
“Who’s this guy?” her brother, Gunner, bit back, yanking a thumb Rush’s way.
Rebel looked behind her then turned back to her brother. “Get out of here.”
“I want to talk to my son,” the woman said, and if he remembered rightly, her name was Verna.
“He’s not here,” Rebel fired back.
“We know he’s fuckin’ here. Fuck. What a goddamned homo. Sending his baby sister to protect him,” Gunner sniped.
Rush felt something stab in his chest.
“He’s not here,” Rush growled. “We just put him on a plane.”
“Again, who the fuck are you?” Gunner demanded.
“Not sure you got call to ask who the fuck I am, asshole. You’re the one’s standing in a room where you’re not welcome. And now I’m givin’ you five minutes to say goodbye to your sister, then you’re out.”
Gunner sized him up, wrongly, finishing it stating, “Bring it on, douchebag.”
“How did you find out he was here?” Rebel cut in their exchange to ask her mother.
“As humiliating as it was, in order to find a time to see my own son, I had to ask a friend to call Molly and pretend she was an old acquaintance in town and wanted to have lunch. We were going to Phoenix, but Molly shared Diesel was visiting his sister. So we came here,” Verna answered.
“Is Dad here?” Rebel asked.
The woman lifted her chin. “Your father is done with your brother. Completely. We’re here to try to salvage the situation.”
“Well that works, since D’s done with him too,” Rebel retorted. “And just to say, there’s no situation to salvage. You’re you. He’s him. You’re fucked up. He’s happy. The end.”
Well . . .
Shit.
He was falling in love with her.
Yeah.
He already knew he was doing that.
But he was doing it hard.
“Right, we got that hashed out,” Rush said as her mother stared at Rebel like she had no idea who she was. “Now you both are gone.”
“I need to speak with my daughter,” Verna spat.
He looked to Rebel.
She took a step back, shaking her head.
He looked back to her mother. “She’s not feelin’ that. That means time to go.”
“Fuck you, assho—” Gunner started.
He didn’t finish that.
Rush had him by the collar of his tee. He jerked him, snapping his head back, then whirled him around and took a grip on the back of his shirt, another on the waistband of his jeans, and he frog marched him out of the room.
“Oh my God! What’s happening?” Verna shouted.
Gunner tried unsuccessfully to twist out of his grip.