Page 83 of Smoke Screen
Apparently, his brother had forgotten the famous Blackwell family-first motto.
He’d have to give him a reminder.
After arriving homeand leaving Maddy at her suite’s door, Phin entered the Theater, where his brothers gathered around the conference table, watching on the big screen as Sheriff Maggie did her thing with the reporters.
“I ampissed!” Phin announced.
Cruz angled back, gave him his I-don’t-give-a-crap face, then went back to the screen. “About anything in particular?”
Was he kidding? The feds had unleashed the media on their home, a place where they guarded privacy like it was one of the queen’s priceless tiaras and Cruz wasn’t upset?
“Our brother is bending us over this table and you don’t think I should,” Phin waved his arms—Broadway at its best, “you know, be upset about that?”
Keeping his gaze on the monitor, Cruz shrugged. “I think you’re emotional about something you shouldn’t be emotional about.”
What the …? “Did someone hit you with a two-by-four?”
At that, Cruz laughed. “I love that line. It’s business. You take it personally.”
Phin made eye contact with Rohan. “Have I gone insane? Is this happening?”
“It’s happening. Gotta say, I agree with Cruz.”
“Great. Another one.”
Rohan held up a finger. “Hold up. Ash may not have known Maddy’s location was leaked. The feds are probably keeping him on a need-to-know status. Hell, probably the only reason he hasn’t been drop-kicked from this case is us. They want to use us.”
Thatmade sense. Why wouldn’t the feds ride their coattails?
It sucked eggs that Ash had to be in the middle of it. The whole goddamned situation aggravated Phin. Ignited that churn inside him.
Phin grunted. “You’re right. We’re the lowlifes they need. Why not keep us around?”
“Holy shit with the drama, Phin,” Zeke said.
“Drama my ass. I go to these events in my six-hundred-dollar shoes and deal with assholes treating me like dog crap they stepped in.”
Cruz raised one hand, sliding his forefinger over his thumb. The world’s tiniest violin. “Wah, wah…”
“Fuckyou, Cruz.”
Finally, Cruz met his eye. The bored look again. “If you wanna go, we’ll go. Burn off some stress. It’s been a while since I kicked your ass.”
Phin would be an imbecile—a lesson he’d learnedyearsago—to take on Cruz. The guy got a partial college ride on his wrestling chops and had, more times than Phin liked to admit, pinned him in warp speed. Humiliating, that.
Right now, though, with his blood reaching epic heat levels, he might be able to pummel his brother.
Anything to get rid of this … this …sewage… rolling inside him.
All of it. Causing his family trouble, getting himself on the news, Ash being pissed at him, the FBI.
Maddy being a suspect.
And staying under their roof.
Thinking too much. That’s what this was. A spiraling mess screwing with his mind. He curled his hands into fists, rested them on the table and leaned in, letting all his weight flow into his arms, his knuckles taking the brunt of the punishment against the hard table.
Phinny, Phinny, Phinny.
