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HUGH STARED AT Jethro and his Guard. He needed to get out of there. Now!
Martha’s face was pale and her eyes wide as she looked back and forth between the two of them.
“Mother, go upstairs,” ordered Jethro.
“Yeah, we can finish our conversation later.” He moved toward the door. Jethro didn’t budge. He didn’t want to fight the boy but he would if he had to. Of course, Jethro wasn’t a boy any longer. The kid was large and muscular, bigger than he was, but he had a couple of rough years under his belt and knew how to fight dirty.
“You won’t talk to her later. You won’t see my mother again.” Jethro’s face reddened.
Everyone had told him that Jethro had changed over the years and not for the better. Conguise’s influence no doubt, but Jethro shouldn’t have anything against him. Unlike Conguise, Jethro knew the truth about Viola’s death.
“Calm down. There’s more to this than you understand,” said Martha.
“Jethro, I’m going to walk past you and leave.” He moved across the living room. “I don’t want any trouble.”
Jethro shifted, blocking the door more thoroughly and so did his Guard.
He glanced around the room, looking for a weapon. He had his knife but he didn’t want to use that. “There’s no reason for this. I know you’re fighting for the other side, but you know what they say about me isn’t true.”
Jethro moved forward a step but Hugh held his ground.
“You don’t want to do this.” He glanced at Martha. “Not in front of your mother.”
Jethro stepped to the side but the Guard didn’t move. They were trying to surround him. That wasn’t going to happen. He shifted so he was facing both of them again.
“You have no idea how badly I want to do this.” Jethro inched closer. “Mother, go upstairs.”
“Let him leave,” said Martha, trying to be stern but her voice quavered.
“He’s a traitor and there’s a huge price on his head.” Jethro looked past Hugh toward his mother. “Enough to buy back our home.”
Martha paled even more. So, there was a price on his head and the Remore’s had money trouble. No surprise on either count. A bounty was standard and the Remore’s were no longer selling meat.
“Jethro, let him leave. I need to speak with you in the kitchen.” Marth turned and headed toward the other room, obviously expecting obedience.
“My only question”—Jethro glanced at the Guard—“is do I turn him over to Jason or keep him for myself?”
“First name basis with the Supreme Almighty? You should choose your friends more carefully. I was his friend once.” He watched every move the two made. All his training in the forest would pay off tonight.
“What do you think I should do, Indy?” Jethro moved again.
“It’s a lot of money.” Indy stepped to the side, blocking Hugh from the kitchen.
Martha tried to come into the living room and the Guard shifted, stopping her.
“Martha, Jethro’s right. You should go upstairs,” he said. She didn’t need to see her sons fight and that was what was going to happen. “Everything will be fine here. Jethro and I are only going to talk.”
Jethro met his gaze and nodded. At least, on protecting Martha, they were in agreement. “Yes, Mother. Go back to bed. Hugh and I have a few things to discuss.”
“Promise you’ll let him leave.” She glanced from one to the other.
“When we’re done, I’ll insist on it.”
He couldn’t stop his lips from twitching a bit. The kid did have a way of saying one thing and meaning another. Jethro should go into politics.
Indy stepped aside and Martha slowly walked up the stairs as if not sure about leaving. Once she was gone, he forced the tension in his shoulders to ease, trying to set them off guard.
“So, how much am I worth?” Either Parson didn’t know or whatever Meesus had on him was worth more than the reward.
“Two ounces of thermite dust,” said Indy.
“Wow. I’m flattered.” That was a lot. He needed to find out what Meesus had on Parson.
“Now, you see my dilemma.” Jethro smiled slightly.
“Actually, I don’t.” He half-sat on the end of the couch. He’d use the lamp as his weapon. All he had to do was wait for his opening.
Jethro strolled back and forth between Hugh and the door. “It’s obvious why I’d want to turn you over.” He grinned. “The money and all. We’re a bit short right now. You know. Mom isn’t as good at running the family business as Dad had been.”
“Of course. Feminine sentimentality.” He could play this verbal game better than the boy. He had years of experience. “But the real question is why do you want to keep me?”
“Because you’ll work fantastic as bait.”
“Mirra won’t come to save me. Trust me, we aren’t that close.” The kid needed to let go of his hatred of the Tracker.
Jethro laughed. “I’m past that.”
He doubted Jethro was after Jackson. A cold dread thrummed through his veins. “Who exactly do you plan on capturing?”
Jethro moved closer. “The big question is. Should I turn him over”—he glanced at Indy—“or should I cut his heart out in front of her?”
He stood, all playing gone. “You’ll never catch her and if you do, you won’t keep her.” He shifted, ready to grab his knife. “I’m not the only one who’ll die to protect her.”
“So, the feelings are mutual.” Jethro’s face flushed with anger as he turned and began pacing again. “I figured as much, but I’d hoped...” He stopped and stared at Hugh. “Have you touched her yet, tasted her?”
“Don’t talk about her like that.”
“She’d told me you’d wanted to wait, but I didn’t believe her. I mean with her looks...” Jethro bit his lip. “A male would have to be crazy to not take what she offers.” He looked at Indy, a fake frown on his face. “The truly sad part is I don’t think he knows.”
“How’s that even possible?” asked Indy. “Everyone knows.”
“What don’t I know?” He was being goaded, but he couldn’t seem to stop himself. She was his weakness.
“Poor sap.” Indy chuckled. “I almost feel sorry for him.”
“We’re all fools when it comes to females, especially her.” Jethro turned back to Hugh. “You’re sweet, innocent Trinity isn’t so innocent any longer. She and I spent several days alone in the woods and one memorable night in my tent.”
“I don’t believe you.” He wanted to launch himself across the room and rip Jethro limb from limb, but he was more experienced than that. Jail had taught him patience.
“Where have you been? I’m surprised the rumors haven’t reached your camp yet, but they will and then you’ll know what a faithless bitch she is. She didn’t think twice before offering herself to me.”
Experienced or not, he couldn’t take any more. He grabbed the lamp from the table and swung it at the Guard, catching him unaware. It landed squarely on Indy’s head, slamming it against the wall. The Guard slid to the floor unconscious. He raced toward the door, but Jethro was fast. The kid’s shoulder caught his gut, knocking the wind from him as he was thrown across the room. His back hit the coffee table and he crashed to the floor, tangled in chunks of wood. Before he could move, Jethro was on him, fists connecting with his face. He ignored the pain and aimed for Jethro’s gut, but the kid blocked his blow as if knowing he’d do that.
“Stop it! Stop it, both of you.” Martha ran down the stairs.
Jethro glanced at his mother and Hugh used that opportunity to raise his head, slamming it into Jethro’s nose. He shoved the kid off him and clamored to his feet.
Jethro was up in a second, his fists flying. Hugh staggered backward too busy trying to protect his body to fight back. He grunted at the impact of Jethro’s blows to his gut. Each hit felt like the kid held a brick, but jail had taught him how to take a beating. He moved his arms, leaving his stomach open as he jabbed, hitting Jethro’s face again. This time, Jethro’s nose crunched beneath his hand.
“Maybe, I won’t wait to cut out your heart.” Jethro smiled, blood running down his face as he pulled his knife.
“Let’s see you try.” He pulled his knife too.
Martha ran between them as she continued to scream. Jethro kept trying to push her aside but she clung to his arm, stopping him from attacking and protecting him from Hugh at the same time. He circled toward the door. He wasn’t a coward or afraid of the fight but he wasn’t going to kill his half-brother in front of his mother if he could help it.
Jethro picked up his mother and dropped her on the couch while blocking Hugh’s access to the door. The Guard on the floor began to move. That wasn’t good. Jethro was hard enough to fight; he didn’t need the Guard too. He sidled around toward the back door, the one they’d used to escape during the Tracker attack. It was a longer distance but it was his only chance.
“Please, Jethro, don’t.” Martha ran forward, clutching Jethro’s arm again. “Hugh’s your brother.”
Jethro’s face paled and then heated with anger. “What lies have you been telling her?” He pulled free from Martha’s grasp, launching himself at Hugh.
Martha continued screaming at Jethro as he slammed into Hugh again. It was like being hit by a rock and the impact reverberated through him as they toppled into the wall and fell to the ground. He blocked Jethro’s knife, causing his weapon to fly from his hand and skid across the floor. He was a dead man without his knife. He brought his knee up, but Jethro anticipated his move and shifted. He missed, hitting the kid’s thigh but it was enough to unbalance Jethro. He shoved the boy aside, scrambling after his knife. His fingers trailed over the handle before a sharp pain ricocheted through his shoulder.
“You die, now!” Jethro twisted the blade.
He stretched for his knife but it was still too far away. He tried to roll to the side, but Jethro had regained his balance and straddled him, holding him in place. Another shot of pain tore through him as the blade was yanked from his shoulder. Jethro grabbed his hair, pulling his head back and exposing his throat. He refused to die like this. He surged upward, dislodging the boy for a moment and he scrambled forward toward his weapon, but he was too slow. Jethro grabbed his hair again, jerking his head farther backward. He punched at Jethro’s thighs and side but the kid didn’t seem to notice. This was it then. It was over. The fingers in his hair yanked hard and metal flashed in the light and then Jethro was gone. He was free. He surged forward, grabbing his weapon. He rolled over, prepared to stab his half-brother but Jethro knelt on the floor facing the other way. The kid was staring at his hand which was holding the knife buried in Jackson’s stomach. Jackson’s mouth was open and his eyes were wide as he looked down at the boy.