My Killer Vacation(61)

“That’s good! It’s your vacation.”

“It’s our vacation, Tay—”

A car screeches to a stop outside of the house. Followed by several more cars braking, engines cutting out. A lot of talking and shouting ensues. As though a portal has opened and a crowd has been shaken out from another dimension.

One deep voice stands out from the others.

“Oh no.” Jude’s eyes slide shut. “Oh God, he actually came.”

“What?” I split a look between the front door and my brother. “Who?”

“Dante.”

“Dante is here?”

“Yup.”

Arms linked, we slowly edge toward the front window, but most of my view is blocked by one very muscular back belonging to Myles. “What the fuck is all this?” he’s shouting.

“Myles,” Jude says, tapping the bounty hunter’s back through the window screen. “It’s okay. He’s not a threat.” My brother’s voice rises to a shout. “He’s just stubborn!”

“You’re the one refusing to see me for no good reason,” calls back Dante—and I can’t help it—warmth spreads in my chest like melted chocolate. “I’m coming in there.”

“I beg to differ,” Myles drawls, though there is a steel edge to his tone. “Taylor?”

“Yes?”

“Why is the kid from the Phantom Five movie on your porch?”

I massage his tense shoulders through the screen, but they remain as hard as concrete. “We know him. He grew up with Jude. They’re best friends.”

“Are we?” comes Dante’s disembodied voice. “Pretty sure my best friend isn’t supposed to avoid me. To the point where I have to see him on the news to find out he’s vacationing where a murderer is at large.”

“On the news?” Myles repeats, throwing us a dark look over his shoulder. “What is he talking about?”

Dante clears his throat. “Can we do this inside? I was followed by a few paps.”

“Let him in, Myles,” I say. “He’s safe.”

“There are a lot of people out here, Taylor,” Myles answers. “Get away from the window.”

Jude and I take several giant steps backward, leaving us between the living room and the kitchen. “Done.”

The front door opens and there is Dante. But he’s not the slightly awkward, quietly handsome kid I remember. No, he’s a taller, thicker, stronger version with soulful brown eyes, midnight hair and a five o’clock shadow on his square, movie star jaw. I should have expected the transformation. After all, I’ve seen both Phantom Five movies in theaters. I’ve watched him jump off a skyscraper and land on the wing of an airplane, fight a twenty-foot robot and…make love. My face heats a little when I remember that scene from the second movie. The one where he has hate sex with the beautiful villain played by one of my favorite actresses. I bite my tongue before I can ask Dante what she’s like in real life. Because it’s not my moment. Not my reunion. It most definitely belongs to Dante and my brother and it’s not what I’m expecting.

I expect Dante to call Jude a flake. I expect Jude to give some witty retort and toss his hair and all of it to culminate in a back-slapping hug. Instead, Dante stops just inside the door and scowls at Jude.

“Holy shit, you’re alive,” Dante deadpans. “Good to know.”

Jude rolls his eyes. “Jesus, Dante. Save some drama for the movies.”

“We could have easily done this over the phone.”

My brother unlinks our arms and hobbles toward the fridge. “Could you please settle down and have a beer—”

“Why are you limping?” Dante’s golden brown skin loses some color. He turns to Myles who has just entered the house behind him. “How did Jude get hurt? Aren’t you supposed to be their bodyguard?”

Myles kicks the door shut to a flurry of camera flashes. “The hell I am.” He spears me with a warning look. “When were you two on the news?”

To someone who is just meeting the bounty hunter for the first time, his personality might come across as forceful. Or aggressive. But not to me. I recognize the line of worry between his eyebrows and the way he can’t seem to get a swallow down. We’ve made this man’s job infinitely harder and he’s rolled with the punches. He could have left us vulnerable. Sure, he shouts and curses and he doesn’t have a tactful bone in his body, but he’s…a wonderful sort of asshole. Isn’t he? He’s my asshole.

Oh God. I’m in trouble.

“I’m starting to wonder if this guy is the reason you’re limping,” Dante mutters, crossing his arms over his superhero chest.

And I don’t know what happens inside of me in that moment. I just sort of lose it.

Is that the second time in five minutes that someone has accused Myles of inflicting bodily harm on us? Yes. Yes, it is. A geyser of protectiveness plumes inside of me. Especially when I see Myles flinch over the casual accusation. He’s not made of stone. He’s a protector. A good man despite what he presents to the world. How many blows can his armor withstand?

Before I perceive my own intentions, I’m across the room like a whirlwind. I pick up Myles’s hand and intertwine our fingers, holding our joined hands close to my chest. “This man is very good at his job. Unfortunately, he cannot protect Jude from a jellyfish. That is why he’s limping—”