Mockingbird (A Stepbrother Romance #2)(18)

"Fuck off."

"I'm taking her home. She's drunk."

"It's a party. She's supposed to be drunk."

"Then why aren't you?"

He puts his hands on me. Before I can even think to defend myself, Apollo's hand moves over my shoulder so fast it's like the guy has been struck by a snake. Apollo's fingertips slam into his throat and he stumbles back and goes down, gagging and choking and squeezing his own neck, dragging for air. Apollo lightly brushes me aside, grabs the guy and rolls him on his side, then on his back. He pulls his hands back from his throat.

"Breathe. Slowly. It'll stop."

"Um," I say.

"Not much time. Get her and let's go."

I get the booze bottle out of Charity's hand and she just stares at me, half smiling. Getting her shirt on turns into an exercise in futility so I just button it around her, arms and all. Then I have the problem of getting her up. Trying to move her only seems to make her sleepy as a dreamy smile spreads on her face and her eyes flutter closed. Apollo snaps his fingers in front of her eyes.

"She's pretty bad off. We need to go. I'll get her."

With surprising grace, he pulls her over his shoulder and stands up, bearing her weight like it's nothing. He offers me a hand and pulls me to my feet, and I let him go first down the stairs, deftly balancing the dead weight of Charity on his shoulder as we round the turn from the bottom of the steps and back out through the kitchen, the way we came in. I tuck in close to Apollo's back, hoping nobody raises a fuss about us just carrying Charity out of the house. We've made it this far, just a bit further to go.

Then, of course, Lucas appears.

He's spotted us. I see him pushing through the crowd.

"What are you doing here?"

"Picking up Charity," I shout back at him. "Her mom was worried."

A convenient lie, but whatever.

"Not you. Him."

Apollo, who still has Charity over his shoulder, glances back at me. "She asked me along."

I don't contradict him.

"We'll be going now."

Except we won't, apparently. Lucas isn't alone, he has backup in the form of another six hundred pounds of goon spread between two of his friends.

Gulp.

Lucas lowers Charity to her feet. She's come around enough to stand up, or at least she's aware enough to hold on to me so she doesn't fall off the planet.

"We're leaving," Apollo announces, calmly. "Excuse us."

Lucas and his three friends don't move.

"Um," I say.

"Come on," he says to me, over his shoulder, and we start forward.

Lucas claps him on the shoulder, hard enough to stop him in his tracks. His buddies have their hands balled into fists, their bodies rigid with tension. It's about to start. I try to get Charity around them but one of Lucas' buddies cuts us off, taking our path.

"Take your hand off me," Apollo says, calmly.

"No."

"Best not," he says.

I expect them to fight, but a fight implies mutual participation. Apollo moves so fast he almost blurs, dipping in a weird way that kind of pulls Lucas in to him, and when Lucas makes a grab, Apollo twists out of the way with a stunning flexibility and does something with his arm that sends Lucas flying, right into one of his friends. The pair of them bowl over in the grass, and the third one comes at me.

I haul off and kick him right in the balls, drive my foot between his legs. I go down, hard, but so does he. Apollo grabs his ankle and drags him right off of me and Charity, and pulls us to our feet as our attacker curls up in a ball, clutching the family jewels. I don't think I could have pulled that off he wasn't drunk.

Apollo grabs my arm, pulls me, and then lifts Charity back onto his shoulder, fireman style. From there it's a rush down to the sidewalk, trying not to slip in the grass. I pop open the back hatch so Apollo can lower Charity into the back seat, and hurriedly get in next to him.

"Are we taking her home?"

I throw the car in gear and pull out.

"No. Her mom probably isn't even there. We'll take her back to my place."

I blink when I realize I'm talking about showing this guy where I live. Hell, I can't get Charity in the house alone.

"Should we take her to the hospital?"

"She's drunk, but I don't think she has alcohol poisoning."

"Are you even old enough to drink?"

"Is she?"

"Good point."

Okay. Mom should be home by now. If not, I've got my phone and Bob is a call away. My mind is made up. I drive.

It's about a twenty minute ride from Lucas' house back to the museum. When I pull up to the gate, the security guard takes a good, hard look at Apollo before we pass through and drive up to the house.

"Fancy. You have your own guards?"

"No. We live on the museum grounds. My mother runs the place."

"Oh, that's pretty cool. Can I get a private tour?"

"At least you're not asking for a tour of my privates."

He raises an eyebrow and leans back. "Are you offering?"

I can feel myself blushing. I don't even know where that came from.

Charity stirs in the back seat, and mumbles. "That's right, Mister Giraffe. Get all the marmalade."