Du Rose Vendetta

Chapter 6

CHAPTER SIX

Animosity“Get out.” Logan rose and dropped his cutlery with a clang. His fork landed without hitting the plate and bounced over the edge of the table.

Kane Du Rose dug his hands in his pockets and Hana couldn’t decide if it portrayed peace or nonchalance. He’d lost weight and his jeans hung off him. He swept his gaze around the table and settled on Phoenix. “Nice family,” he commented. He gave her a wink and Hana’s daughter glanced at her father and pursed her lips. Only Mac continued battling his giant sandwich in happy oblivion.

“Don’t let the gate hit you on the way out.” Logan straightened his spine and spread his legs in a combative stance. His fists balled at his sides, ready for however Kane wanted to play the game. The old feud reared its head as though only yesterday Kane had slit Logan’s side open in a sick, teenage dare. Hana saw hatred flare in her husband’s eyes and panicked.

“Would you children like to eat in front of the television?” she offered, breaking every house rule they’d ever made.

“I’m not hungry.” Wiri shoved himself back off the bench, tangling his legs in his haste. The ravenous boy of a few moments ago disappeared in a haze of fear.

“I am.” Phoenix dropped her chin and furrowed her brow. She picked up the blackened sausage and watched Wiri’s retreating back with a mix of disbelief and shock.

“Go, baby.” Hana offered her a reassuring smile, ruined by the swallow half way through her sentence. “Take Macky with you.”

Kane glanced across at Hana and raised his eyebrows. “This isn’t the Du Rose hospitality I remember.” He made the words sound wistful and Hana cringed at the lie. Nothing could make Kane Du Rose welcome on Logan’s side of the mountain. Her fingers worked fast to toss meat and bread rolls into a plastic container. She pushed it towards her daughter and Phoenix took it without comment. The heavy atmosphere over their comfortable family dinner beggared explanation.

Kane risked taking his gaze off Logan as he observed Hana’s frantic movements. She tapped her son’s shoulder before sliding him from the bench backwards. He looked up at her in question and she dumped his sandwich into another plastic tub. “Inside,” she mouthed.

His delicate brow furrowed and he looked up at the wide blue sky as though expecting to see a rain cloud. His greasy fingers motioned to form a question and devoid of explanation, Hana dropped a kiss on his forehead and told him to follow his sister. They trooped after a fleeing Wiri, but Mac paused at the corner of the house to stare into the face of the man who ruined his fun. Hana saw green eyes meet grey and Mac’s narrowed as though he understood more than she believed. He turned, his auburn hair moving in the breeze coming off the sea. He walked into Phoenix twice as he turned to look back at the unusual scene. Hana felt torn in half. She wanted to comfort her children, but dare not leave the men sharing the same air space without supervision. One of them would end up going over the cliff and smashing against the hard rocks below the house.

Logan moved his head in an almost imperceptible jerk, telling her to leave. She pursed her lips and disobeyed, standing her ground and thinking up excuses for the argument later. “My husband asked you to leave.” Hana narrowed her eyes and held her hand out sideways, inviting Kane to go out the way he came in.

His gaze roved over her body from head to toe, creating the sensation of having a dead fish dragged across her flesh. “I’ve got business with your husband, so why don’t you just run along?” His lips quirked up in an expression of pure arrogance.

Hana gathered her wits and the Irish grit which mingled with the bloody minded Scots in her veins. “I don’t think so,” she replied, meeting his mocking gaze with determination. “His business is mine.” She resisted the urge to blink and found some deep chamber of pride and courage hidden between chest and stomach.

Kane looked away first and Hana felt victory pour through her nerve endings. Her hands shook and she hid them behind her back, mimicking Logan’s iron stance and driving home the message of inhospitality. Kane shook his head and withdrew his hands from his pockets. Logan’s eyelashes moved as danger flared in his irises. “You’ve got something of mine,” Kane said and instead of balling his hands into fists, he spread them either side of him as though offering Logan an embrace. Hana stiffened and watched confusion heighten the angry flush in Logan’s cheeks.

Then Logan released a laugh, so unexpected it jarred Hana’s nerves. Logan settled himself back on the bench and reached for a bottle of tomato sauce. Red fluid squirted from the nozzle as he doused his sandwich. An image of blood filtered into Hana’s brain. Half-brothers united through their haemophilia. Sauce dripped from the sandwich as Logan lifted it to his lips and nausea banished Hana’s appetite. Every encounter between these men led to injury and bloodshed. She’d lost count of the battles, both legendary and real.

Kane looked wrong footed. He blinked and glanced at Hana, as though seeking solidarity. He found none. “We have nothing of yours,” she said, strengthening her voice. “Please leave.”

Eyes which matched Logan’s seemed to send her a silent appeal before Kane’s shoulders slumped. He shook his head. “It’s not over,” he said through gritted teeth. “I’ll make you talk to me.”

Logan dropped the sandwich onto the plate and wiped his fingers on a nearby napkin. His eyes flicked up to meet Kane’s angry gaze. Hana saw the blackness in his soul she’d foolishly imagined banished. It reared up like an exorcism of horror and she felt herself recoil. An expression of faint amusement settled over Logan’s handsome features and Hana saw the bitter root he’d kept hidden beneath. “Good luck with that.” His tone sounded dismissive and cruel. Logan pointed towards the corner of the house and jerked his head in Kane’s direction. “See yourself out.” The words killed all discussion and Hana heard her own heartbeat pounding in her ears.

Kane shook his head and jammed his hands into his pockets. The action seemed necessary to hold his jeans up around his hips. He stepped off the deck in a single stride and glared back at Logan. “You’re an ass-hole,” he declared. “You always were.” Hana listened to his footsteps retreat around the side of the house and a car door slammed moments later. She tried to move her legs and found herself frozen in position.

“s**t!” Logan smashed his fist onto his plate and the crockery snapped beneath it. The shards embedded themselves in the remains of his sandwich. He heaved out an angry breath and stood. Hana saw red liquid staining the heel of his hand and wrist, unable to discern if it was sauce or blood. She swallowed as her husband uttered more curse words and strode towards the fence line. The bush beckoned from beyond, shadowy and dark as the canopy hid its innards from view. Hana swallowed at the abandoned meal and her gaze flicked towards the lounge window. A movement caught her attention and Wiri’s grey eyes watched her with an unreadable expression on his face.

And just like that, perfection lifted its hand and the Du Roses plunged into disaster.