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Joe hit hard enough to knock a picture frame off the sofa table resting against the back of the sofa. He sputtered and scrambled, trying to stand. DeeAnn screamed and launched herself at Lucas, but Lucas played quarterback in high school and still had pocket awareness. He scooped her to the side and dropped her next to Joe, knocking the man once again into the cushioned depths.
Lucas pointed a finger at both of them. “Don’t get up, or I’ll beat you like you stole something.”
Chris sock-slid into the room. “Cool.”
“You okay, Michael?” Lucas asked, not taking his eyes off Joe because he trusted him about as far as he could throw him… which was obviously about three feet. Maybe four.
“Yeah,” the kid said, rising slowly and holding up the baggie of what looked to be weed. “And I held on to this. You want to call the cops?”
“No,” DeeAnn said, shooting upright and casting Michael a pleading look. “I didn’t know he had that. You can flush it.”
“Flush it? Hell no. That’s Grade A shit.” Joe didn’t take his eyes off Lucas. Smart man.
DeeAnn punched Joe on the arm, making Lucas wonder if he’d been teleported to one of those crazy talk shows. “Shut up, Joe, and do what he says.”
“You don’t go to jail for a little weed, Dee.”
She turned to Lucas. “Do whatever you want to with it.”
“Both of you get out,” Lucas said.
“But I-” DeeAnn started.
“Now.” Lucas stepped toward the two sprawled on the couch. They both shrank from him.
Good.
“Fine,” DeeAnn huffed, struggling to her feet. “I didn’t want to watch the little bastards anyhow.”
Lucas tsked. “Apologize.”
She rolled her eyes but looked over at Michael. “Sorry.”
“Hey, can I have my stuff back, dude?” Joe asked.
Lucas lifted the baggie and cocked an eyebrow. “What do you think?”
“Frick!”
Except Joe didn’t say “frick.” Pretty well established the man had a mouth like a sailor and Lucas’s gut instinct had been spot on. No way he left the kids to these two morons.
Lucas tucked the marijuana in his back pocket and glanced back at Michael. Chris had moved to stand beside his brother. Charlotte stood behind Michael. They looked scared, and that pissed Lucas off all over again.
Joe and DeeAnn tromped from the room, and Lucas followed. He didn’t want any more trouble. Before he left, he turned back to the kids. “Stay here.”
All three nodded, somber and still wary.
Lucas oversaw the two as they gathered their bags and slunk from the house. No tender goodbyes. In fact, he got the finger from both of them as they drove away in a clown car badly in need of paint. He wanted to return the salute but decided to be a high-road kind of guy.
He glanced briefly over at Addy’s house and saw she still hadn’t arrived home. A funny little plink echoed around his ticker. Which was plain dumb. Wanting Addy had nothing to do with anything above his belt.
Or so he vowed to think.
Turning, he went back in the house and found the kids still huddled silent in the living room. He walked over to the sofa and nudged it back into place, resetting the picture frame.
Michael silently separated from his siblings and walked to the fireplace. Stooping, he righted the fireplace tools. When he’d finished, he glanced over at Lucas. “You were gonna kick his ass, weren’t you?”
“If I needed to.”
