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There’s accusation in his tone of voice. But fortunately, he doesn’t say more than that.
Tanner and Gabe have already been watching Damon and me with concern. The last thing I need to add on top of everything else is this crap with Emily or the fact that William is attempting to contact us again.
How the fuck is everything blowing up at the same time? It feels like we’re all being run in circles, our problems colliding at certain points before we’re sent off in opposite directions to chase down new bullshit that needs to be handled.
All because of those servers.
There better be something good on them for the effort we’re putting in to chase them down.
“I’ll talk to Damon,” I say, pushing away from the SUV and stalking in my brother’s direction.
He glances up at me as I approach, the skin between his eyes tight, a muscle in his jaw jumping with the clench of his teeth.
Damon is a mirror image of me in so many ways, but he lacks the ability to keep his emotions under wrap, his rage always so close to the surface that you feel angry for no reason just by standing near him.
He’s infectious, and rarely in a good way.
“Let’s talk.”
“I have nothing to say,” he grunts, anger flashing behind a set of eyes that are identical to mine.
“Too fucking bad, little brother. You’re out here pacing like you’re about to start shit, and it’s making people nervous. The last thing we need is Tanner and Gabe calling a family meeting about our bullshit. So what’s crawling down your spine right now? The crap with Emily, or is this about William?”
“It doesn’t fucking matter,” he says, getting in my face in the process.
Fucking great, now we’re squaring off where everybody can see us, both of our bodies tight, our stances prepared for someone to throw the first punch.
Tension crackles around us like electricity, the world blocked out because all we can focus on is the threat in front of us. And how fucked up is it that the threat is our own brother?
We’ve fought before. I’m not happy about, and I’m sure as hell not proud of the time I took advantage of what was being done to us to teach him a lesson he didn’t deserve.
Ever since that weekend, I’ve learned to control my rage. I could have killed my own brother because I snapped when it was the last thing he expected.
I still haven’t forgiven myself for it. Damon didn’t deserve what I did to him that night. He wasn’t prepared for it. And I’m starting to believe he never recovered from it either.
William loved it, though. I bet the asshole made some good money from it, too.
Reaching out, I grip his shoulders, ignoring the way he flinches at the contact.
“Calm the fuck down, and tell me what’s going on.”
Around us, all the guys eye us warily, a few whispers rolling between them, most likely about whether they need to step into this and stop whatever is about to get going.
“I get the feeling you’re lying to me. Especially about Emily. I think there’s more going on you’re not telling me, like you have plans I’m not being let in on.”
All true, and I’m not surprised he has that feeling. We can read each other without a word being spoken. I might be cutting Emily off, but I’m not releasing her entirely.
There’s still the small issue about what she’s doing with William. Damon doesn’t need to know it, though. Not when he’s already having issues with our father.
The last thing he needs to hear is that the woman he loves is doing something secret with the man we both want dead.
What that secret is? I have no fucking clue. But lots of ideas have rolled through my head, the worst of which involved her keeping it in the family and fucking William, too.
I quickly shoved off those thoughts because I know Emily. She hates what was done to us, her fury so blindingly apparent whenever the topic is brought up, which only worries me more.
If she isn’t working with William, then is she risking herself by trying to work against him?
The man is deranged.