The Mark of the Vampire Queen by Joey W. Hill Page A

not relevant, regardless. Now’s the important thing. You remember how you felt about Laura? Barely even met her, and you couldn’t imagine life without her from then on.”
    Gideon’s gaze frosted over, chilling the air between them. In a blink, any progress Jacob thought he’d been making evaporated. “She’s nothing like Laura. Don’t you ever put her and one of those bloodthirsty cunts in the same category.”
    â€œYoung man.” The lady across the aisle spoke sharply, even as her friend reached out a quelling hand to her. “That’s enough.”
    Gideon glanced toward her. “Mind your own business, bitch. Stick your head back in the sand with all the rest of them, my stupid fucking brother included.”
    â€œGideon,” Jacob snapped. He nodded apologetically to the two women and noted the hostile looks from the construction workers seated behind them. Leveling a warning look at his brother, he spoke quietly. “I don’t even know who you are anymore, Gideon.”
    â€œSame goes on that score, little brother.”
    Biting back a response, Jacob laid a twenty on the table. “I think we’re done here. I’ll cover this.”
    â€œWith her money? I don’t think so.”
    â€œIt’s my money, Gideon.” Jacob stood, studying him. The large hands curled in helpless fury on the tabletop, the blue eyes glaring, the jaw so rigid it looked like it would crack under the strain. “As long as you’re like this, there’s nothing we have to say to each other.”
    â€œDon’t think I won’t hesitate to kill you if you get in my way.”
    Once, two boys had run through the surf, sunlight flashing on the water they kicked up, making it sparkle. Laughter had bounced between them like a tossed ball. He’d tried to grab Gideon, knock him into the water, but Gideon caught him in a headlock and they both tumbled in. Jacob tried to grasp at that image to block the pain of the icily delivered threat, but he couldn’t hold on to it.
    â€œYou sick son of a bitch.” He pitched his voice low, picked up the money Gideon had swept onto the floor and laid it deliberately back on the table, under his coffee cup. “Fuck you.”
    He turned away, wanting nothing more than to go off somewhere and get a shot of the strongest proof alcohol he could find. He wondered what Lyssa would think if he came home with his blood overloaded with sugar, caffeine and alcohol.
    It was the gasp from the women, followed by a call of warning from one of the workers, that alerted him. He spun just as Gideon surged up from the table with a clatter of tableware to ram him midbody. They hit the edge of the ladies’ table and toppled it along with its crockery as they tumbled to the floor.
    Gideon landed one eardrum-shattering punch high on the jaw before Jacob rallied, rolled, broke the hold.
    â€œYou’re coming with me. You’re not going back to her.”
    Jacob swung, a hard uppercut that sent Gideon staggering back several steps and bought him the time to scramble to his own feet. “No, I’m not. You stupid, thickheaded—”
    With a roar, Gideon came back at him. This time he managed to take them both over the dividing wall between two rows of booths. It tangled them with its occupants, a group of workers who reacted far more belligerently than the elderly women.
    A rough shove and a few blows took him and Gideon back to the floor, baptized by spilled food and drinks, and even more colorful curses that would have the ladies’ ears burning. Jacob blocked another punch, Gideon’s he thought, then caught his brother’s thrown fist and turned the both of them, wrestling, trying to pin him. Gideon was strong, seasoned, but Jacob was faster, and they were both armed with Irish temper. It had always taken longer to rouse in Jacob, but once unleashed it was no less violent. Gideon ducked under the next