“Jericho is an honorable man.” Lucas throws his head back and laughs.
“Really? He’s fucking his dead cousin’s wife. Michael’s body isn’t even cold.” Before I know what I’m doing, I’m moving, and I strike Lucas across the face. He stumbles back. Pain shoots through my hand.
Fuck that hurts. I shake my hand.
Lucas gets his bearings, his head snapping up. “You'll pay for that, bitch.” He lunges for me. I try to dodge him, but I’m not fast enough. His body collides with mine, and we fall to the ground.
“Jericho!” I try to scream, but it's too late. Lucas’ hand is over my mouth, muffling the sound.
What have I done?
19
JERICHO
I hear the scream before I’m all the way through the front door. Dora darts out from some unknown room and almost knocks me over. I grab her by the shoulders and set her aside. “Call the po—” I cut myself off and shake my head. No. No police. “Get everyone out,” I order instead and race into the living room.
Sera is down, lying on her back next to the sofa while Lucas is almost straddling her, with one knee by her shoulder and his foot next to her opposite ear. His hands are between his legs, and when I come closer, I can see that he’s choking her.
An unhuman sound comes from my mouth as I rip Lucas off Sera’s body with one swift movement. There’s a clunk as his body strikes something solid, but I don’t look to see what. My attention is focused only on Sera.
I fall to my knees and lift her head. Her eyes flutter open. “Jericho?” she croaks.
“Shh, don’t speak.” I run my hands over her arms and down her legs. “Anything broken?”
“No, oh wait. Behind you!” she cries in a hoarse voice.
I spin around just in time to see Lucas looming over me with the sharp end of one of the fireplace andirons pointed at my head. I throw up an arm to block it and feel the metal pierce the skin.
“Sonuvabitch.” I push him back.
He releases his hold on the black iron piece and stumbles back, laughing and out of breath. “Not feeling like a winner now are you, Jericho? Bedding the leftovers from Michael probably feels as good every night as that poker in your arm.”
I get to my feet and advance toward the soon to be dead man, pulling the iron weapon out of my arm. Blood drips down to my elbow and probably on the expensive Aubusson carpet, but I could care less. Lucas scans his surroundings for another weapon.
“You fucking fool.” I catch the book launched at my head so it doesn’t crash onto Sera behind me. “Did you really think you could come into my home, defile my woman, and think you could walk away?”
“This isn’t even your home, dumbass. It’s Michael’s just like the woman in your bed belonged to him, too.” Lucas pushes a lamp off the table. I step over the crumpled lampshade and relentlessly stalk toward him.
“Everything in this house is mine, including Sera.”
Lucas snatches a crystal globe off a side table and instead of aiming it toward me, he throws it toward Sera. I knock it down with the book and then toss the book to the floor. “You stupid fuck. You should be running for your life.”
The light bulb turns on over Lucas’ head when I’m within arm’s length. He suddenly realizes how close to harm he is and darts toward the door, but it’s too late for him. I grasp his collar and swing him toward the wall. His face bounces off the plaster into my fist. He loses his balance, and I hit him again in the jaw. He spins, totters, and then slides down to the floor against the wall. I pounce on him, driving my fist into his face again and again. A sound in the back of my head like screaming plays like a rich accompaniment.
“Jericho! Jericho!” Sera’s voice breaks through.
I pause, sweat beading up around my forehead, and arch my neck around. “What is it, darling?”
She’s right behind me, her hand clasped around my forearm, pulling me away from Lucas. “He’s out. I’m safe. You don’t need to hit him anymore.”
I glance back at Lucas, whose face is bloody and mashed. His right eye is closing up, and blood drips from a cut on his cheek.
“You’re bleeding. Dora! Bring me a first aid kit.” Sera drags me away from Lucas’ body and pushes me into a chair. I pull her down on my lap. “What—”
I claim her lips, wanting to reassure myself she’s alive and well. Unharmed and unhurt. She kisses me back for too brief of a moment before backing away. “You need to get your arm looked at.” She lifts my left arm between us. There’s a nasty wound where the iron penetrated. She grimaces and grabs a nearby pillow and presses it against the injury. “No more kissing until you get yourself patched up.”