“Ah, fuck.” I open my eyes when someone drags me to my feet. “Damian.”
“Yeah,” he says, throwing my arm over his neck and forcing my feet to move as he walks to the door. “I’m not particularly happy to see you either.”
A cool wind blasts my face. The air smells crisp, like late summer. A man stands at attention next to my car, his jacket not hiding the gun in the holster strapped across his chest.
“Give him your key,” Damian instructs. “He’ll drive your car home.”
Not in a state to decline the offer, I fish the key from my pocket and hand it over. The man unlocks my car and gets inside.
Damian drags me to a car parked two spots away.
“You shouldn’t have come,” I say with spiteful obstinacy.
“Fuck you too, Leon.” He opens the door and dumps me inside. “Just keep your mouth shut unless it’s to tell me you’re going to be sick. If you vomit in my car, I’ll kill you.”
“Damian to the rescue,” I mutter as he slams the door shut and comes around to take the wheel.
He dumps my phone in my lap. “You’re supposed to keep a low profile, not attract attention by getting pissed in a cheap bar on the wrong side of town.”
I utter a laugh. “Of all the people the man could’ve called, it had to be my preaching brother.”
“I checked your caller list.” He starts the engine. “My name is first.”
“Yeah, well, it’s a short list, and seeing that it’s alphabetical…” I let the sentence hang. If he’s clever, he’ll get my drift.
“A simple thank you will do.”
He pulls off, checking around as he takes the quiet road. He’s doing what I should’ve been doing, being vigilant.
“Don’t you need to ask my address?” I taunt.
“You’ve always been an asshole,” he mutters. “Especially when you’re hurt.”
I laugh harder. “Great. Blame my less than sunny disposition on my fragile feelings.”
“It’s true.” He makes the declaration with the certainty of telling me the world is round. “Ian’s always been the most sentimental, but you’ve been the most sensitive. Any dickhead could see it.”
“Go fuck yourself.”
His chuckle is wry. “It wasn’t an insult.”
I scoff. “Zoe’s been the most sensitive. That’s why you always protected her.”
“I protected her because there was no one else to do it.”
Because Ian and I weren’t there. But he doesn’t say it.
“Zoe isn’t as soft as you think,” he continues. “She had her own way of coping.”
“Hiding in her head.”
He doesn’t reply.