“Yes, sir.”
He pockets the phone again before cupping my cheek. I wait for a strike but nothing comes. Somehow that feels worse.
“I’m going to find out what you were up to. Your lies are transparent, sweetheart. When I discover what you’re hiding, we’ll determine your punishment from there. Until then, you’re to stay in this room until your date with Mr. Constantine.”
Not fully trapped.
I have Ty.
My last hope.
If I can get him to help me, I’ll be able to leave this hellhole once and for all. At least now, being banished to my room, it gives me time to come up with a solid plan.
I have to.
The alternative is too terrifying.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Sully
The front door of our apartment slams hard enough a picture slides off my wall. There’s only one asshole who flings doors shut like he’s trying to break them. But that doesn’t make sense because Sparrow should be at school. With a groan of irritation, I climb off my bed, throw on a pair of sweats, and make my way into the living room to see what has his panties in a wad.
Scout and the devil cat are sitting together in one of the recliners like a king and his favorite pet planning world domination. Sparrow is standing at the front door looking like a man with his dick in a vise.
“What the hell is your problem?” I ask Sparrow as he tosses his book bag into the floor.
His hair is mussed up like someone’s been running their fingers through it. If he weren’t so unhappy, I’d be pissed thinking about how he got his hair like that.
Sparrow storms over to the other recliner and falls into it. His features are twisted into a scowl that reminds me of when we were younger and he didn’t get his way. He’s fucking pouting.
“Dude,” I grind out. “Are you going to tell us what’s up or make us guess?”
He rubs his palm over his face, sniffs, and then flashes me a smug smile. I clench my jaw, glancing over at Scout. Scout’s watching Sparrow with an unreadable expression. Something brews in his dark eyes—anger, violence, jealousy.
I feel all three of those like a punch to the gut.
“So I was with Landry,” Sparrow says, his smile fading. “I took her for a ride and parked somewhere private. Things got hot and heavy. I was trying to make up for what you did.” He glowers at Scout. “One thing led to another and then we were fucking.”
The room goes completely silent. Even Heathen stops purring.
He fucked her? He fucked Landry? Seriously?
“You fucked her?” I hiss, fisting my hands at my sides. “Why?”
Sparrow sneers at me. “She’s our job.”
Scout makes a derisive snort. Though he’s apathetic about a lot of things, his attempt at boredom doesn’t work. Not with this. I can tell he’s just as mad as me.
Sparrow then goes into detail of everything that happened this morning from him picking her up to dropping her back off at campus. The smiles, the moments they shared, the hot sex. By the end of it, I want to ram my fist through his nose.
“Now, I don’t know what’s going to happen with her dad,” Sparrow complains. “I don’t know when I’ll see her again.”
“I’ll see her tonight.” I smirk when he shoots me a nasty glare. “Maybe if you’d have kept your dick in your pants and stayed at school like the job required, you wouldn’t be in this situation.” Crossing my arms, I look down at him, watching the vein in his neck pulsate with fury. “I’ll make sure she comes this time.”
“She fucking came,” Sparrow growls. “And if you touch her—”
“You’ll what?” I snap, throwing my arms in the air. “Tell her you’ve been lying to her? That you’re just one third of the person she likes? Didn’t think so.”
Sparrow flies to his feet, bringing his nose to mine. “If you touch her or speak of that shit, I’m going to beat your ass, Sull. You know I can.”
Probably.
Do I care?
Nope.
I swing at him, managing to sucker punch him in the jaw and catching him off guard for all of three seconds. As soon as he recovers from the hit, he’s on me, tackling me hard to the floor. His fist slams into my ribs just as I bring my knee up between his legs. We both howl in pain followed by a string of cursing.
Somewhere in the fog of our scuffle, I hear voices. I’m too fired up to care who it might be. Sparrow somehow gets his hand around my throat, his grip a crushing vise that has me struggling to suck in air.
“Boys!”
The older man’s voice, sharp and furious, cuts right through our bullshit. Both me and Sparrow freeze, panting and sweating. I still want to kill him, but not with Bryant fucking Morelli standing over us.
Seriously?
Scout let him in?
Why the hell is he even here?
“What’s going on?” Bryant demands.
Sparrow shoves away from me and stands. He doesn’t offer me a hand, not that I expect him to. I rub at my sore neck and shoot daggers at him with my eyes.
“Sit, boys,” Bryant instructs. “Now.”
I drop onto one end of the sofa while Sparrow takes a seat in one of the recliners. Scout darts his eyes back and forth between the two of us, clearly fucking amused based on the way his dark eyes flash.
Bryant, immaculately dressed in a black suit, straightens his black tie and then sits on the arm of the sofa farthest from me. He may be getting up there in years, but right now, he’s every bit the powerful patriarch of this family. I imagine had we known our biological father growing up—his brother—we’d have been raised to respect the suit and the whole boss-man vibe. But we weren’t raised by a Morelli. Mom raised us to be self-confident, to take what we want, and to never take no for an answer.
“What were you two fighting about?” Bryant asks, his eyes darting between us.
“A girl,” Scout tattles. “Every year we grow wiser and older, but some things stay the same.”
For fuck’s sake.
I discreetly flip Scout the bird. He shrugs, cuddling Heathen against his chest. Sparrow won’t look at me, obviously still super pissed. Well, fuck him. At least he got laid.
“Which girl?” Bryant asks, his tone clipped. “It wouldn’t be the Croft girl would it?”
My turn to tattle. “He fucked her. Ruined everything.”
“You’re an asshole,” Sparrow growls. “No wonder she wouldn’t fuck you, Sour Patch Kid. At least I can be sweet once in a fucking while.”
“It’s not about you fucking her,” I bite back, “it’s about you fucking up the job!”
“Enough,” Bryant snarls. “Scout, what happened?”
Scout chuckles, the sound dark and demonic. “Landry.”
Bryant’s nostrils flare. He’s losing patience with us. I don’t blame him. Not many people have gotten a front row seat to one of our fights. It’s three times more obnoxious than the normal fight because not one of us will ever back down and Mom’s no longer around to diffuse the situation.
“What’s the status on the jobs I’ve asked you all to do?” Bryant asks, his voice icy. “Or have you all forgotten Landry Croft is a job?”