Sacrifice
Page 26

“They shouldn’t be outside. I can’t believe they’re—” He stopped short as the ball sailed past the glass door at the back of the apartment.
“They’re what?” Hunter glared at the coffee mug in front of him. “I say leave them out there. I thought someone was going to get murdered in here.”
Michael rubbed his hands down his face. The adrenaline was fading, leaving him standing in a puddle of mixed emotions. “What? Why?”
Hunter glanced around. “Why do you think?” His voice had an edge. “There are two rooms and you were asleep in one of them. No television. No one knows what’s going on, or where we’re going to go, or what might happen.”
Michael looked out the door again, studying his brothers. At first glance, they’d looked carefree and happy. Under closer scrutiny, he could read the tension in their movements and see the worry in their eyes. Gabriel had tackled Chris a little too hard to be brotherly—and when Nick had thrown the ball, he’d propelled it like a missile. “How long have they been out there?”
“I don’t know. Half an hour, maybe.”
“You didn’t want to play?”
Hunter shrugged, but didn’t say anything.
Michael took a long breath and looked into the kitchen. The clock over the stove told him it wasn’t much past five. He’d slept for three hours, which was two hours and fifty-nine minutes longer than he’d thought he would. The light on the coffeemaker was still lit, and half a pot sat there.
“Do you think we’re in danger here?” said Hunter.
“Why would you ask that?”
“Because of how you came flying out the bedroom, all pissed that they’re outside. Does anyone know we’re here?”
Michael thought of those text messages. Would his brothers be any safer inside?
I’m not sure I could limit a fire to five apartments.
Maybe they were safer outside.
He had no idea.
“I don’t know.” Michael opened two cabinets before he found the mugs, then poured himself a cup of coffee. He sat down at the table across from Hunter, shifting his chair so he could see out the back window.
He had two hours to kill. An hour and a half, really, considering he wanted to get to the restaurant early, to walk the premises and see if the ground could offer further clues.
To see if Tyler or Seth was really behind this.
He could close his eyes and see the burned-out living room, the exposed beams in the ceiling, the destroyed furniture. He could still smell the acrid smoke and burnt insulation.
Before, he’d been tired and twitchy and panicked.
A few hours’ sleep had brought focus. He wanted to kill whoever was behind this.
Michael took a sip of coffee—old, but not too old—and realized Hunter was still just sitting there, shoulders hunched, eyes fixed on the back door.
“You didn’t say why you weren’t out back,” said Michael.
“I didn’t feel like going outside.”
“Did something happen?”
“No.”
That no sounded like a whole lot of yes.
Michael waited, inhaling the steam from his cup, keeping his eyes on the backyard.
Finally, Hunter looked at him. His voice was almost belligerent. “Are you going to make me go home?”
Go home? But home was—
Oh.
Oh.
Michael looked right back at him. “I hadn’t even considered it. Do you want to go home?”
Hunter didn’t say anything, just kept staring back.
Michael traced a finger around his coffee mug, considering. “When I was a kid, I used to sneak out of the house and sleep in the woods. The first time my dad caught me, I thought he was going to drag me back.”
“He didn’t?”
Michael shook his head. “He brought sleeping bags and flashlights.” He paused. “What do you want to do, Hunter?”
“Home would probably be better.”
“Better for who?”
“You. Then you won’t have to worry about me.”
“I hate to break it to you, kid, but you’re probably just as big a target with your family as you are with mine. And if you think I could drop you off with your mom and stop worrying, you’re dead wrong.” In fact, he’d probably worry more.
“I didn’t mean worrying like that.”
“Then what did you mean?”
“I made a bad call last night. We should have stayed at the house. Then we wouldn’t have been gone—then those people—we wouldn’t—” He caught himself before his voice broke, and shook his head.
Michael studied him. He’d been so wrapped up in his own guilt that he hadn’t considered any of the others might be feeling it, too. “Hunter—”
“Chris was just being stupid, but I made you go after him, and now we don’t have somewhere to live. I’m the one—it’s my—”
“Hunter. Stop.”
“If we’d stayed at the house, we could have stopped it. They were after us. It’s our fault, and then—”
“All right, stop.” Michael set the coffee down. “You didn’t start those fires. And I have no idea what happened in the woods last night, but it wasn’t just Chris, and you didn’t start that either. No one is making you go back to live with your mom and your grandparents. If you want to go back, I won’t stop you. If you want to stay here, that’s fine, too. This was not your fault.”