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Hunter glared back at him, wondering if he should tell them what Noah had said. About Calla being alive.
Then Nick appeared in his bedroom doorway. “Hey. Leave him alone.”
Hunter didn’t even know which one of them he was talking to.
Gabriel got closer. “What are you doing?” he said, his voice low and dangerous. “It was you, wasn’t it? You went after Noah. After agreeing that we should stay away from them.”
“Back off.”
“Are you f**king with us again?” Gabriel shoved him harder.
The corridor was narrow, with drywall on one side and a bannister on the other, and Hunter got leverage to shove him back. “I said, back off.”
But Gabriel would never back off, and really, Hunter didn’t want to be left alone. This was someone who’d fight. When Gabriel swung at him, Hunter blocked, throwing real force into it, unleashing the anger he’d been holding on to all day. That coil of tension slipped free, and Hunter threw power into his strikes until the air was ice cold and biting the inside of his chest.
But the narrow hallway worked to Gabriel’s advantage, too, and he knocked Hunter’s feet out from under him. Gabriel might have been stronger, but Hunter was faster and knew how to work an enemy’s weight to his advantage. Hunter got leverage to roll him, throwing extra force into it.
He just hadn’t considered how close to the stairs they were.
Or that Gabriel’s momentum in the roll would throw Hunter ahead of him.
They both went down. Every step hurt like a bitch. The slate flooring of the foyer hurt worse, first on his shoulder, then on his head.
Especially since Gabriel landed on top of him.
Then the weight was dragged away. A relief, since Hunter needed to figure out which way was up. By the time he had it straight, Michael was glaring down at him.
Then Gabriel kicked him in the stomach. Pain exploded through the base of his rib cage, and Hunter curled in on himself, forgetting how to breathe.
God, he hadn’t been hit in the stomach in . . . forever. He couldn’t decide if that hurt more than his head.
Both. Both hurt.
Voices were yelling overhead, but he couldn’t make sense of them through the overwhelming need to breathe. It felt like he’d been choking for half an hour. There was a good chance he was drooling on the floor.
And Gabriel was leaning over him, and his voice was fierce. “Guess you picked enemy over friend, huh, jackass?”
Hunter saw Gabriel’s leg move, and just when he thought he might have to draw his weapon to avoid getting kicked again, Michael’s girlfriend appeared in front of Gabriel and put a hand on his chest. “Go on,” she was saying. “Take a walk. Cool off.”
Hannah got Hunter into the kitchen before he was fully aware that he was off the ground and walking down the hallway. None of the Merricks followed him, so he was alone with her, following directions like sit there and don’t move.
The chair came up faster than he was ready for, and he wondered how hard he’d whacked his head. He touched a hand to his temple and was surprised when it came away wet.
Blood.
Hannah was in front of him again, a folded paper towel in her hands. “Press this against your forehead. I need to get my bag from the car.”
“I’m bleeding,” he said, like an idiot.
“I know.” Her eyes weren’t too concerned, though. “Can you hold that and remain upright?”
Either he answered and didn’t remember, or she left without bothering to wait for one. Whatever, she was gone, and he was sitting there, dazed and trying to make both eyes focus.
Then she was back, pulling a chair close to him and pressing gauze to his forehead instead of the paper towel. She had purple latex gloves on now, the kind doctors wore. “Hold that again,” she said, grabbing his wrist to put it in place.
“What are you doing here?” he asked. For a second, his addled brain wondered if she’d been on the porch with Michael during their argument, but he couldn’t make that line up.
She was digging in her bag. “I just got off work. Mike sent me a text ten minutes ago saying everyone was going to bed and we could have a quiet cup of coffee.” She laughed a little, but not like it was funny.
