Page 30 of Heresy

My job here is done.

Unfortunately for Paul, it takes him a little longer than it should to make good on his threat. And also unfortunately for Paul, the wait gives us time to down a few shots.

That combined with the beer, and yeah, we’re three sheets to the wind by the time Paul’s aristocratic face appears at the top of the stairs.

Damon spots him before me, his shoulder knocking against mine to direct my attention to the stairs with a nudge of his chin.

It takes everything I have not to laugh. My head shaking just slightly from disbelief, I eye the seven men now creeping up onto the second floor. Each one is dressed like they’re out for a night at the country club.

Dress shirts, fully buttoned with sleeve cuffs in place at the wrists.

Dark jeans, but not black, stone washed or worn in any way.

Their hair perfectly brushed back, not a single strand out of place.

Damon and I should help them with that. A little disheveling never hurt anybody.

They all stare back at me as if the sight of them is enough to make me shit my pants.

I don’t.

Obviously.

“Fuck. I should have taken a leak before they got here. I may just piss myself laughing. Are you seeing these assholes?”

Apparently, Damon is thinking the same thing as me.

My lips curve in amusement.

Paul’s eyes dart to me immediately, no doubt with images of his ex-fiancée bouncing on my dick like a cowgirl riding a bull. I would have graced him with a few pictures for posterity, but I hear taking pictures on the sly is illegal in at least forty states, give or take.

Not one of us speak a word, all seven of them slowly walking our direction while Damon and I don’t so much as twitch.

The entire scene feels like it’s in slow motion. But the tension builds quickly, Damon’s hands fisting, the corner of my lips tilting higher.

The thing is, I probably should let the whole situation go and call off the fight that’s brewing.

An intelligent person would do that.

An attorney worried about keeping his license to practice law would do that.

A man afraid of spending a few nights in jail would do that.

It’s just too bad I’m not that intelligent person, that attorney or that man.

I’m just me.

An instigator.

A heretic.

And I engineered this chaos simply because it amuses me.

Damon races forward before I do, and laughter bubbles over my lips when blood splatters with the first punch.

The war is on in less than a second.

The two of us taking on seven.

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