I charged in grabbing the knife from inside my cut and I don’t even remember ending the fucker, I just reacted.
I rub the back of my neck and walk into the living room. I feel strangely sober now, which is a shame because I would rather be lost in a haze of alcohol. It always seems like things are easier to deal with that way. Maybe there’s a bottle I’ve overlooked in the kitchen.
I was almost in front of the table when Bull throws the door open. It slams against the wall with a loud bang. He stands there glaring at me, catching the door as it comes back toward him. He takes a step in and gives it a push. The door slams behind him.
A lesser man would have been intimidated. I was probably still fucked up from the alcohol, because strangely I’m not.
“RED!” Bull calls out.
I give him a shit-eating grin that I would have gladly knocked off a motherfucker’s face, if I had been on the receiving end. Then, I lean back in the cockiest pose I can muster.
“RED!” Bull calls out again.
It is a few minutes before she walks into the living room. She is limping and I feel guilt hit me. I want to help her to the chair and see what’s wrong.
“What the fuck happened?” Bull barks going over to Carrie and doing that before I can get my alcohol soaked brain to function. He gets down on his knee to look at the damage. It annoys me how protective he is over her.
“I…I fell,” she says and she looks so innocent and frail sitting at the table. Her hair is mussed up, her lips are swollen from my kiss and my dick jerks in reaction. I can’t see her neck for her hair. It takes all I’ve got not to go over to her and see if I had marked that pale sweet skin. I want Bull to see it.
“How?” Bull asks, pushing his shirt up to look along her leg.
Carrie grabs the shirt and holds it tight to her thigh so Bull won’t show more skin and her eyes lock with mine. Bull looks up and he sees Carrie staring over his shoulder. He turns to follow her line of sight, which of course is me.
“You son of a bitch! I warned you!” Bull growls and drops Carrie’s leg, coming at me in one big movement.
“Bull!” Carrie yells, but my brother grabs my collar and then throws a punch. I feel the impact of his solid fist cover the top of my hand that I throw up in defense, twisting it away and then coming down to my jaw at an angle. The force is strong and my head jerks with the impact.
I immediately step back, and deliver a return hit to his gut. I feel him connect again, this time I drop down so he just hits my shoulder. I deliver another blow and he steps back to refocus. We trade a few more hits back and forth. I finally get a good one connecting under his chin. It sends his body backwards, making him fall against the sofa. I’m not even sure how we made it from the table area to the living room. I’m kind of shocked. I back up thinking that it is over. My brother may be mad at me, but I don’t really want to fight with him.
I don’t have time to say anything, because Bull recovers quickly and charges with his head down, aiming straight for my solar plexus. I’m pushed back a good five feet or better. We fall from the force of the hit. I slam against the kitchen table. It tilts under my weight and I hear a crash and feel a jarring, as the table tips over. Chairs fall in every direction around us as we land. I grab him in a head-lock while he’s trying to deliver a kidney punch.
We stop when a loud scream draws both our attention.
“STOP IT!”
We look up at the same time. Her auburn hair is gorgeous in waves around her face and those wide green eyes are filled with tears. I have the strangest urge to reach out and stop them before they have a chance to fall.
“Just stop it,” she cries. Bull shoots me another death glare and pulls away.
“Sit down, Red,” He orders softly and helps her to the chair in the living room. I lay against the upturned table watching them and I feel physically ill.
He cares about her. You can see it in everything he does and in the way he wants to take my head off. I can do nothing but watch as he sits her down. His large dark hand caresses her. It stands out against her milk white skin. It’s odd watching his large thumb wipe away the tears falling from her eyes. It makes the breath lodge in my throat. How could this happen? How can my brother fall for Carrie? She’s mine.
“Damn it Red, tell me what happened,” Bull demands, his hand moving along her calf muscle. There’s a bruise and obviously a good size cut that is no longer bleeding, but looks hateful and swollen. It’s ugly against her perfection. More guilt pummels me.
“It was an accident,” she whispers her hands twist together on her lap, her face down.
“Dance…”
“I fell Bull, Jacob didn’t do anything,” she whispers, looking at me. I expect to see hate or disgust. Heck, even mocking would have been preferable, yet all she does is spare a quick glance at me.
“I’m going to go back to bed,” she mumbles and Bull stands instantly. He bends down to lift Carrie up in his arms.