So, for them, for Jordan, I kept quiet. I waited.

But now, seeing my brother take a phone call and dart outside, I was done waiting.

Cool, calm, smooth, I took my bowling shoes off and put on my regular ones.

The only person who noticed was Bren, and when I looked up, her eyes were speculative. She looked at the door, and I gave her a small nod. She raised an eyebrow, and this time I was the one signaling to her that I didn’t need her help.

She nodded, settling farther back in the chair to keep score. Zellman wasn’t here, so she filled in. Jordan was too busy flirting. Me and Bren, though, we were good bowling, enjoying each other’s company, grazing arms and hands as we moved to go bowl and come back. Blaise noted the touches, his eyes darkening as he watched his own woman, but Aspen was having fun. She was laughing at Jordan, and her face was glowing being around her friends.

I knew it was killing him to see how I was touching my woman, and he had to refrain from touching his.

I enjoyed the torture, but it was time to stick another knife in his gut, metaphorically speaking, and I moved across the lobby, keeping to the shadows to not draw attention to me.

Jordan’s laugh cut out behind me.

I looked back. He was watching me, but Bren moved. She said a few words and he nodded to her, then to me.

I ducked out through the door.

My brother had moved out into the parking lot, but I saw his phone’s light and he was saying in a quiet voice, “Yeah, Mom. No. We’re good.” A pause. “I promise. Yeah.”

I could hear Marie saying her goodbye. Blaise reciprocated, then hung up, stuffing his phone into his pocket as he started back to the front door.

I moved back against the building, just shy of the front entryway.

He came across me, moving forward when I moved.

I grabbed his arm, throwing him back against the wall, and I shoved him the rest of the way, jamming an arm up against his neck.

My brother stilled, then snapped alive. He was fighting, trying to shove me off, but I was ready. I knew Blaise could fight, so I was prepared. He tried to kick me out away from him, but I shoved harder against his throat until he stopped, and now he was gagging.

“It’s me, asshole.”

He froze again, then sagged back. “What the fuck? This because of tonight? I’m sorry for not showing more appreciation that you punched Harper for me. So many thanks.” He was being sarcastic.

I shoved harder, enjoying hearing him choke before I relaxed my hold. “You’re dangerous.”

He snorted, half-laughing. “Right. You? You are actually saying that to me?”