Hellion, a New Adult Romance Novel(51)

Rebel is as silent when he fights as when he is doing anything else. A few grunts come out as Colin punches him in the gut, attempting to hit Mick but missing.

 

Mick gets two more right hooks off on Colin’s face, opening up his lip and making his nose bleed before Rebel’s in the way again. It’s like Mick is possessed, the way he keeps going at his brother. If it weren’t so sickening it would be impressive. Talk about determined. I thought I held the corner on that one, but no. I was wrong. Again.

 

Is there a Yorkie in here somewhere or did I just bark again? Apparently, my contribution to the mess is to keep yelping. The rest of the gallery patrons might as well bust out some popcorn the way they’re staring and pointing. Anytime one of the fighters gets too close to someone in black they add some squealing to the mix. It’s not until Colin finally stops holding back and hauls off and hits Mick in the gut that the fighting finally stops.

 

Rebel grabs his gasping youngest brother by his t-shirt and drags him outside. Mick stumbles the entire way and goes down on his knees just beyond the door.

 

Barbara glides over to hand Colin a towel she snagged from one of the champagne-bearing waiters. He snatches it away from her as she tries to help him and turns his back on her.

 

The ruder he is, the more she seems to like it. The smile on her face is nearly blinding. I’m pretty sure there are dollar signs in her eyes.

 

Gazing around at the crowd and seeing them still watching the performance, I’d say she has every right to be feeling the glow of cold hard cash. These people are actually excited about buying art from a criminal. I feel like I’m in a movie or living in another dimension. Nothing makes sense. What am I even doing in an art gallery, anyway? That right there is pretty messed up in and of itself.

 

Teagan runs over and grabs me by the arm, snapping me out of my fog. “Come on,” she says, almost growling.

 

“But … but …” I look over at Colin, hating that he’s being left behind by everyone he cares about.

 

He catches my worried expression and waves me away as he wipes his face off, turning his attention back to his adoring fans. I feel terrible that his entire family is outside and he’s left in here with all these weirdos dressed for a funeral. It’s not fair. He just wanted someone to listen to him, to pay attention to something that means something to him. Why does that have to be so difficult and painful?

 

The circle of people who’d been talking to him before Rebel and Mick arrived closes in around him and I can’t even see him anymore.

 

I let Teagan jerk me out of my melancholy moment and follow her out to the parking lot. I feel like I’m walking into a courtroom, about to face judgment as I approach the red mustang with Rebel and Mick standing next to it. Mick is still partially bent over, holding his hand lightly over his abdomen. I don’t know why I feel guilty about his pain, but I do.

 

My allegiance is torn in half. Do I stand up for the guy who had to struggle to find the strength to show anyone his paintings, who also has the balls to fight off his family and be left alone? Or do I condemn him as the man who kidnapped me without regard for his brother’s feelings? And how did I end up in the middle of all this shit, anyway? All I wanted to do was have one night of drunken debauchery. Life is so unfair.

 

I walk up and stand in front of Rebel and Mick. They both look at me and my heart sinks into my shoes.

 

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

 

 

 

 

 

“TELL US WHAT HAPPENED,” REBEL says. His face holds no expression; I cannot tell if he’s for me or against me, so I assume the worst. It makes it hard for me to speak.

 

I swallow with effort and finally begin the story after a couple false starts. “I was waiting for Mick to come get me, and then Colin showed up. He said he was there for Mick because Mick was going to be late.”

 

Mick hisses out an angry breath, addressing his brother. “I fucking told you.” He shifts his attention to me. “Why’d you get in the car with him? You know he’s full of shit.”

 

My back goes up in defense. “No, I don’t know that, actually.”

 

I look at Teagan for support, but all she’s doing is seeing how close she can get her damn eyebrows to her hairline.

 

“Don’t look at me,” she says.

 

Disgusted with her playing the pansy, I glare at Mick. “Colin has never been anything but a gentleman with me.”

 

“Except for the fact that gentlemen don’t kidnap people,” interjects Teagan.

 

“Oh, so now you’re joining the party,” I say, throwing my arms up.