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“You always were.”
“First I pick a fight with that poor guy downstairs, and now, I’m making inane observations about snakes.” I rub the back of my neck. “I’m losing it. No, I’ve lost it, completely.”
“Can’t say I’ve ever thought you were in your right senses, so, I concur.”
“Thanks.” I wince.
“Any time. By the way, you want to go a round?”
I glance up. “What do you mean?”
“A round in the boxing ring? There’s a gym in the basement of this building.”
“Not right now.”
“Thought you wanted an excuse to pick a fight,” he murmurs.
“Strangely, that mood has passed me by.” I step away from the counter and begin to pace. “I’m afraid I may have made a big mistake.”
“Just one?”
I scowl at him. “Good to see you’re having fun at my expense.”
He smirks. “Can’t pass up the opportunity, you understand?”
“I’d have done the same, I suppose.” I glare at him again, then start pacing. “If Knight were here, I might have bounced this off him. Or maybe not, considering it’s about his sister. Probably not. And when I tell her I lied about him asking me to take care of her—"
“You lied to her?” he snaps.
I turn on him. “Must needs, man.”
“Fucking hell, King. You lied to her that her brother asked you to take care of her. Not to mention, you used your friendship with him to fuck his sister.”
I hunch my shoulders. “When you put it that way, it doesn’t sound good.”
“It makes you sound like a man who’s worse than a snake. No, worse than a caterpillar. No, an ant. No, make that a blood sucking mosquito and—"
“Enough already.” I glare at him, and he glowers right back. I hold his gaze for a few seconds, then lower mine. “Fucking hell!” I glance around the room, then walk to the wall and punch my fist through it. The pain stutters up my arm, and white sparks burst through my head, clearing away all thoughts.
“No wonder you didn’t feel like bashing someone else up. Apparently, the only person you want to hurt right now is you.” Declan ambles over to me. He leans his shoulder into the wall next to where I’d struck a hole through it.Good.I shake out my arm, then bring my bruised knuckles to my mouth and suck on them.
“Feeling better?” he asks.
“Not particularly.”
“Feel like talking about it?”
“Not much to say except, I’m an arse.”
“Agreed.”
“And a wanker,” I snap.
“A wankhead of the highest order, actually.”
“You going to agree with everything I say?”
“You going to go to her and apologize?”
