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Damien’s eyes protruded fifty sizes at the same time Jace’s body shot forward, spraying the booze out his mouth and all over the liquor bottles. Damien chugged his drink back then slammed his glass down on the bar. “Very well, Jasper. Send him in.”
“What’s going on?” I side-whispered to Jace, who was coughing beside me, gripping his ribs. “Who’s Marcus Briggs?”
“My uncle,” his strained voice softly rasped. “Father’s half-brother. They hate each other.”
Wait… what? Damien had a—
The thought was interrupted by the door opening again. In stepped a tall, huge son of a bitch dressed in a black designer suit, a sly smile on his lips. It was evident this man must’ve gone through extreme shit at one point in his life. Scars marred just about every inch of his face, and there wasn’t a single trace of hair present on his bald head, or any proof verifying that he used to have any at all.
“Boating accident,” Jace whispered when he caught me gaping open-mouthed at the guy. “Happened when they were teenagers. It’s a long story, but it’s the reason why they despise each other so much.”
“Damien,” the man’s deep, jagged voice spoke, shooting unpleasant chills down my spine.
Holy fuck… His voice belonged inside a horror movie.
“How long has it been, brother?”
“Not long e-fucking-nough. Why are you here, Marcus? Or do you prefer to go by Devlin now?”
“Either or is fine.”
Marcus, or whoever the fuck this guy identified as, smirked darkly at Damien before turning his attention to me and Jace—well, mostly Jace. His dark eyes widened a little, then bit by bit, slowly softened back out.
“Jace? My god, boy. Last time I saw you, you were a little runt with acne and your balls had barely dropped.”
“It’s good to see you, too, Uncle Marcus,” Jace replied a little uneasily.
“You look like shit. I assume this is your father’s handiwork, yes?” Marcus’s rigorous glare flicked over to Damien who did nothing but scowl at him. “Why am I not surprised? Your father always did enjoy picking fights with those smaller than him.”
Damien snatched up his gun then, and he cocked it, pointing it directly at his brother. “You have ten seconds to tell me why the fuck you’re here, or else your nephew will be dragging you out of here in a fucking body bag!”
Marcus bellowed out a deep chuckle and approached Damien without so much as flinching when Damien trained his aim higher on his head. In a swift, bold move, Marcus snatched the gun away then tossed it to the couch. My mouth dropped open when Damien just stood there and didnothing, his face blistering red.
“I’ve been repairing the cottage Mom and Dad left me in the will,” said Marcus, grabbing a glass and the closest bottle.
“What does that have to do with me?”
“My partner Drax has been helping me with it. So far, we’ve repaired the roof and just recently finished with the front porch.”
“I assume there’s a point,” Damien growled. “Fucking get to it.”
“You won’t be needing it for anything, right?” Marcus took a sip of the amber colored liquor and leaned back against the bar, smiling amusingly at his brother’s fury-flushed cheeks.
“No. Why would I?”
“A…situation, I guess you can call it, has occurred back home and I’ll be needing to temporarily loan it to an old friend of mine from prison.”
“I don’t give a damn what you do with it,” snapped Damien. “Now, I have a business to run, so if you don’t mind, you can go back to Clover Bay and continue being Donovan Hail’s—”
“—Uh, Boss?”
“WHAT?!”
Damien craned his head to the side, his flitting eyes narrowing at Jasper, whose head was poking through the threshold again. Jasper flinched, then cowardly dropped his head.
“They’re here, Sir.”
“Perfect.” Damien scoffed then rubbed an enraged hand down his face before his sight settled on me and Jace. “Leave us. Let the others know I’ll be out in a minute.”
