“You made him hurt me?”
Her father nodded. “I thought it was for your own good, but I was wrong. He’s not a cheater.”
“Then what was he doing with that brunette on Duval Street?”
He drew a breath. “I called him that night and warned him away from you again.”
“Dad!”
“It was wrong, I know, but maybe that’s why he was at the bar. You should go ask him.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead, then let her go and placed his cover back on his head. As he pushed open the car door, he hesitated and looked at her for a long moment. “And tell him…he has my blessing.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Jude snarled as a shadow fell over the papers on his desk, blocking out the crappy office lights. He’d spent his week up to his elbows in the expense reports Reece demanded he fill out, and he just wanted to finish this last one, go home, and drown his sorrows for the weekend.
He didn’t want to talk to anyone and thought the F-U force field he’d constructed around himself would keep them all at bay. Then again, some of his brothers had no concept of self-preservation.
He lifted his gaze and scowled at the owner of the shadow. Camden stood beside the desk unapologetically blocking the light with his big frame. Sam the Cat lay across Cam’s wide shoulders, content to hang there like a fluffy orange scarf and doze. Since Jude had no idea when Seth would be home, he’d brought the feline back to D.C. with him, and Sam had quickly won over the hearts of his brothers, earning himself a spot as Wilde Security’s spoiled mascot.
“You’re in my light,” Jude snapped.
“Yup.”
“I’m busy. What do you want?”
“For starters,” Cam said, “my brother back.”
“What are you talking about? I’m right here.”
“Where are the paper footballs? The fight provoking? You haven’t even aggravated Reece once since you got home.”
“I’m okay with that,” Reece said from across the room.
“Yeah, well, I’m not.” Camden took the cat off his shoulders, plopping the fat feline down on top of Jude’s reports. “How about a game of Battleship?”
Libby, accusing him of cheating as she tossed her panties at him…
As his gut twisted, he shut his eyes to close out the memory. “I hate that game.”
“Since when?”
He shooed Sam off his desk, picked up his pen, and got back to work, but Cam yanked the paper out from under the tip.
“Okay, this has got to stop. Go find her.”
“No.”
“Why the hell not?” Cam demanded.
“Because I don’t want to.”
“Bullshit,” Cam said. “Try again.”
“Because I don’t fucking care.”
Cam made a buzzer sound out of the side of his mouth. “You’re oh-for-two. One more time.”
Jude glared up at his brother. “She doesn’t want me, okay? Now leave me the fuck alone.”
“Ah, getting warmer.”
“Goddammit!” All of the hurt and sorrow coalesced into a blinding rage so hot he didn’t realize he whipped his pen at the desk hard enough to break the cheap thing until Sam jumped and hissed. Except for scaring the cat out of one of his nine lives, the splintered pen bounced harmlessly to the floor. Wasn’t enough. Anger rode him so hard he wanted to throw the whole damn desk across the room. It didn’t help that all of his brothers had stopped what they were doing to eavesdrop, and Cam stood there, arms crossed, looking so calm and reasonable and Cam-like, prompting him to spill his guts with a murmured, “Talk to me, bro.”
Jude opened his mouth, but the fuck off he’d formulated in his mind came out as a broken whisper instead. “I don’t deserve her.”
The whole room went utterly still, and all of his brothers stared at him as if he’d just announced he wanted a sex change.
“What?” Camden breathed.
“I don’t deserve her,” he repeated, enunciating each word. “I don’t deserve to be happy.”
“What makes you think that?” Greer stepped out of his office doorway, where he’d paused to listen in on the convo. He crossed the room and stopped in front of Jude’s desk.
“Because… Shit. Just because.” Leaning back in his chair, he stared his brothers. Greer—strong, silent, intense, and hiding more secrets than any of them. And, damn, the guy looked so much like Dad, Jude couldn’t bear it. Not now. Not when every wound he’d ever hidden behind a smile was raw and open and throbbing.
He turned his gaze to Reece—all focus and practicality, a lot like Libby. At one time, a very long time ago, he’d been closer to Reece than any of them. Now a lifetime of slights had built up to the point that they could barely stand to be in the same room together, and he suspected a lot of that was his fault.
The twins. Cam—easygoing and so rock steady a hurricane wouldn’t budge him. Vaughn—direct and decisive, a little rough around the edges, a fighter. He’d gotten them both into trouble more times than he could remember.