Page 40 of F Is for Honey Bee

In a fit of rage, Jonah bellowed back, “Do I look like your fucking mother?”

“Don’t you dare speak ill of her,” Arlo snarled, pressing the tip of a blade against Jonah’s throat.

Jonah screamed when the front door crashed open. At the same time, Arlo leapt to his feet, latched onto Jonah’s hair, and yanked him upright. The sharp blade of the knife pressed against Jonah’s throat as Arlo used him like a shield.

Just inside the doorway stood Kijani and Slater, their weapons trained on Jonah and Arlo.

“Get another call about a domestic dispute?” Jonah’s voice quivered, his question directed at no one in particular.

“Gotta love nosy neighbors,” Slater replied, his hands steady, his gaze fixed on Arlo. “I can shoot a tick off a dog, so why don’t you set that knife down nice and slow.”

“He’s only going to use and wreck you,” Arlo said smugly to Kijani. “I’m actually saving you from Jonah’s poison.”

“Maybe I like poison.” Kijani’s russet eyes were calm and stone-cold dangerous. “You might even say I’m mated to it.”

Staring down the barrels of two guns was terrifying. Jonah would rather take his chances with the knife, because Arlo might decide he wasn’t getting out of this alive and choose to take Jonah out with him.

Jonah went dead weight, causing Arlo to loosen his grip. As the man tried to regain control, Jonah sank his short, but sharp canines into the bastard’s hand, the sharp odor of blood filling the air.

Howling in pain, Arlo released his hold. When he tried to grab Jonah again, a shot rang out, causing Jonah to cover his ears.

Arlo dropped to the floor behind him. Without looking back, Jonah scrambled to his feet and ran into Kijani’s arms.

“I got you, honey bee.” He cradled Jonah protectively.

“I needed shooting lessons for the wrong guy.” Jonah buried his face against Kijani’s chest, needing the comfort and safety his mate provided. He’d hidden his fear in front of Arlo, but now Jonah allowed himself to release it, trembling fiercely in Kijani’s strong arms, where he found an anchor, a safe haven amidst the chaos.

Chapter Eleven

“What in the hell is in this box?” Kijani asked as he pulled it off the truck. “Feels like you packed bricks.”

“Your belongings aren’t exactly light either!” Jonah rubbed his lower back as he stood outside the moving truck. “I had to haul your plants inside the house.”

“Plants?” Kijani gave his mate a you-poor-baby look. “Those ten-inch pots are infamous backbreakers.” He walked down the ramp, thankful they were almost done. “I promise to massage your aching back later, honey bee.”

“I want a back massage,” Alister, Wyatt’s mate, whined. “Bitches be hurtin’ with all this moving crap. Do I look dressed for moving boxes in these fabulous shorts? Which I’m slaying, by the way.”

“I’ll rub down your entire body, butterfly.” His mate winked, walking backward down the ramp while carrying one end of the couch.

“I already got you covered, foxy,” Cannon said to Paris while carrying a heavy end table in each hand.

“He knows me so well.” Paris chuckled.

Kijani was glad he’d been able to recruit help to move his and Jonah’s things into their new home. Both of their individual houses were up for sale. After everything that had happened in Jonah’s, he’d quicky posted the sign in his yard.

Then Jonah flipped off all his neighbors when they’d applauded. Kijani had wanted to arrest every last one of those assholes. It hadn’t been Jonah’s fault Flint was a piece of shit or that Arlo turned out to be a psychopath.

Neighbors were supposed to stick together, not relentlessly gossip about each other.

But the real drama had occurred when it was time to pack Jonah’s house. It had been a miracle Kijani was able to convince his mate to part with some of his things so their new home wouldn’t be cluttered.

Kijani had done his part, donating a lot of items, but Jonah had acted as if everything he owned was precious to him.

The one thing neither of them were parting with was the stuffed honey-wolf. Jonah had carried “junior” on his lap on their way to their new home, afraid it would get dirty or lost.

“Why don’t you mates just grab us strong guys cold drinks and sandwiches since you guys are just standing there?” Slater said as he appeared from inside the truck with the other end of the couch.

Kijani’s couch, since he and Jonah had agreed it was the most comfortable of the two. They’d kept both beds, deciding to put Jonah’s in the guest bedroom.

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