Page 24 of Hostile Saint

As if that was a dumb question, I shrugged. “They are.”

Not sounding convinced, he asked, “The age difference between you and them?”

“Four and five years.”

A distracted hand pulled at his bottom lip. More to himself, he said, “Too young to have been running the ship. Who is steering their behavior?”

“Damien,” I answered.

Hearing my eldest brother’s name, Lynx’s shoulders lifted, then fell. He nodded but not convincingly.

“What?” I asked.

Lynx took another deep drag of his cigarette. “You say your mom didn’t know you and Lace were an item.”

“Correct.”

“What did she know about you?”

I wasn’t appreciating him insinuating my mom wasn’t involved in my life. I was preferring my denial. “Plenty.”

“I see.” His tongue pushed against the inside of his cheek. “Is Lacey just as close to her mom, too? The one who isn’t even concerned of her whereabouts after three days?”

Are you toying with me? I glared.

“I see.” Lynx inhaled smoke. “Does Lacey even feel her mother can protect her?”

Continuing to prod was grating my nerves even more. “Of course not. Her mother can’t. The brothers are too overpowering. That’s why we protected them.”

He blinked. “Who is protecting who?”

Starting to feel inadequate to even be sitting at the table with these intelligent men made me even more annoyed. “The brothers… They told us they would hurt our moms if Lace and I didn’t do what they wanted.”

Vice leaned his chin to his joined hands that were propped up by his elbows on the table.

“What?” I asked him, really getting perturbed.

He opened his hands in surrender before resuming the lean. “Nothing. You’re all good, kid.”

I glared at each of the men. “They are overpowering. You don’t understand.”

Lynx shook his head. “Nope. I don’t. Try explaining it to me.”

“I. Was. Scared they would hurt my mom like—” I exhaled.

“Like what?” prompted Lynx, as if already knowing the answer.

My nostrils flared. Yes, I was getting very angry, but I was also completely overwhelmed. I felt like a cornered animal who needed to protect himself.

Lynx pushed back. “Moms are very capable of ruling the roost. They can be deadly protectors. Why. Not. Yours?”

“Because,” I stalled, the trapped feeling intensifying.

Lynx growled, “Because what?”

Feeling as if on the verge of exploding again, I gave my last warning by growling, “Why are you doing this?”

Lynx leaned forward and tapped his thick finger on the table. “Because I need to hear you say it.”