“It doesn’t matter who I am. What matters is that you are not here. You are never here. You are never anywhere near this fuckin’ house, Tess’s fuckin’ bakery, or Tess. I see you or I hear you are, honest to fuckin’ God, I’ll deal with you and you do not want me to do that.” Brock was still snarling, it was vicious, biting, and I could feel his mood all the way across the living room, through the kitchen, and to me. It was filling the house. Beyond his pissed-off snap of electricity, this was rough and abrasive, scoring at my skin.

“I beg your pardon?” Damian asked.

Oh no. Oh God. Oh no.

Damian was at least three inches shorter than Brock. Damian was probably twenty pounds lighter if not more. Damian was lean in the sense he was lean, not muscled, no bulk. He was fit but there was no power to his frame like there was to Brock’s. In a physical tussle, Brock would take him, easy.

And Damian wouldn’t give one flying fuck. Damian spent most of his time pissing in corners. Damian would not take to a threat well.

Not at all.

I started to move around the island to instigate damage control, my eyes on Brock’s back, seeing he had his body between the door and the doorjamb, his big frame blocking Damian from view, his back to me.

Still, he lifted an arm out behind him like he had eyes in the back of his head and could see me starting to approach and he barked, “Tess, do not fuckin’ move.”

I halted at the side of the island.

“If Tess is in there, I’d like to speak to her,” Damian, voice tight, requested.

“Did you not hear me ten fuckin’ seconds ago?” Brock asked.

“Who are you?” Damian demanded to know.

“You didn’t hear me ten fuckin’ seconds ago,” Brock decided.

“All right, I’ll ask politely. Please move aside so I can talk with Tess,” Damian asked.

To that, Brock stated, “In five seconds I’m closing the door. You’re not in your Escalade and on the road sixty seconds after that, I’m on the phone with the cops. No joke, no delay. Got that?” Then, as he promised, he stepped out of the door, closed it in Damian’s face, and locked it.

I stood where I was at the side of the island.

Brock moved to the window and yanked hard on the cord to the blinds to expose the glass. He stood in it, arms crossed, feet planted.

I licked my lips.

Brock didn’t move a muscle.

I put a hand out to the counter and held on.

Brock didn’t twitch.

I counted to ten. Then to twenty.

Brock leaned to the side, yanked the cord, and the blinds dropped with a crash.