Page 24 of Love, Always and Forever
Her husband grimaced. “Thanks a lot for the support, Nat. Didn’t you see me giving you the high sign to back my play?”
She giggled. “Is that what that was? Sorry, honey. I’ll try to do better next time. Mikhail, he’s all yours.”
Mikhail stood up to hug his petite sister-in-law. “You know if Tino hadn’t latched onto you before we even had a chance to meet, I would’ve married you myself.”
Tino shoved his way between them. “Hey, hands off my woman. Get one of your own.”
Jack’s wife joined the crowd. “From what I hear, your new neighbor might be a good candidate for that job. Jack says she’s really pretty, and Ricky likes her, too.”
“I do. She’s a great cook, and I wouldn’t mind having a few cousins, Uncle Mikhail. Think you could get to work on that?”
Suddenly the kitchen was too crowded, the air too thin to breathe as Mikhail’s temper, never far from the surface, flashed hot. Damn it, would they not let up on teasing him about Amy? The two of them were just friends, and he wanted to keep it that way. No, hehadto keep it that way.
He edged toward the back door, needing to escape before he did something stupid, something they’d all regret. The last thing he wanted to do was punch one of his brothers. No, that wasn’t true. He really, really wanted to do exactly that for shooting off their big mouths about him and Amy. It wasn’t any of their damn business. He should teach them to keep their fucking mouths shut.
Jack started to block his way but then backed off as soon as he got a good look at Mikhail’s face. Outside, Mikhail debated where to go next. He’d parked in the street, so no one could have blocked him in. His brain was still working well enough to realize he shouldn’t be behind the wheel right now. God knows what would happen if someone cut in front of him or rode his bumper too close.
He veered off to the left, heading for the annex. He’d take his anger out on the heavy bag in the small gym he and his brothers had built in a corner of the living room when they’d all lived there.
It took him two tries to finally get his key in the lock and let himself in. If that hadn’t worked, he would’ve kicked in the door if that’s what it took to put some distance between himself and the rest of the world. Inside, he yanked off his boots and heaved them across the room. Next, he stripped off his shirt and tossed it on the floor.
By the time he’d positioned himself in front of the heavy bag, his lungs were already working as hard as if he’d run a mile in full combat gear instead of merely crossing the width of the driveway. Unable to catch his breath, he still launched right into attacking his target. The first punch felt good. The second even better. By the third, he was into the steady rhythm of dancing around the bag and punching. Right, left, right. Left, left, right.
The door opened and closed behind him, the sound of footsteps slow and cautious. It would be interesting to see which brother had been designated as the sacrificial lamb to see what was going on with Mikhail. For a moment, he ignored the intruder.
“At least wrap your hands if you’re going to try to destroy the bag. Mom won’t be happy if you leave here bleeding.”
He should’ve known it would be Jack who had followed him. Tino had some pretty impressive fighting skills from his days with the military police, but Mikhail had several inches in height over him and carried a lot more muscle on his frame. Jack, on the other hand, was built along the lines of a tank. Even with the knee he’d screwed up on a night drop, he stood a better chance of holding his own if Mikhail had totally lost control.
Mikhail kept punching. If he was doing any damage to his hands, he couldn’t feel it. Not yet, anyway. He’d worry about the pain later. Meanwhile, Jack circled wide around him to dig out a set of the wraps they kept in the drawer.
“Stop long enough to let me put these on you, and I’ll park my ass over on the couch until you’re ready to tell me what the fuck is going on in that head of yours.”
Right, right, left.
“And if I don’t want to stop?”
Come closer, big brother. Give me a target for my anger.
Jack kept his distance but planted his feet in a wide stance and kept his hands down loose at his sides, making it clear he wasn’t going anywhere. “I’ll still park my ass on the couch until you wear out. You’ll tell me what’s going on, and then you’ll explain to Mom why you felt the need to hurt yourself.”
Fine, if Jack didn’t want Mikhail punching the bag, he’d kick it instead. After landing a couple of solid hits, he surrendered to the inevitable and stopped to offer up his hands. No use in being a complete idiot about this. Jack made quick work of wrapping Mikhail’s hands. Then he grabbed two bottles of water out of the small refrigerator. After loosening the cap on one, he set it within easy reach for Mikhail and then carried his over to the couch and parked his ass as promised.
Right now it wasn’t in Mikhail to thank Jack, but the truth was he was glad he’d come after him. Back in the rhythm now, he kept up the steady rain of blows on the bag, circling it as if it were an opponent who could really fight back. If only it were so easy to knock memories right out of his messed-up mind. Eventually, his anger and his need to strike out gradually burned themselves out. He kept going for another five minutes out of pure stubbornness.
Finally, he slowed to a stop, his entire body aching, his spirit exhausted. The water tasted sweet as he downed half the bottle before coming up for breath.
“I’m okay.”
Jack called him on the lie. “That’s crap. You’re not okay by any stretch of the imagination, so don’t bother lying about it.”
Mikhail leaned against the wall and slid down to sit on the floor, his legs drawn up so he could rest his arms and head on his knees. “Okay, I’m not fine, but I am better than when I left the house.”
The couch creaked as Jack stood up. When his big feet appeared at the edge of Mikhail’s peripheral vision, he looked up to meet his brother’s worried gaze for a brief second.
“I’ll settle for that,” Jack said as he joined Mikhail on the floor. “How often has this been happening?”
Again, there was no use in lying to Jack. The man had a well-developed bullshit-o-meter. “Less often than when I first got back. This is the worst in a long time.”
