Chapter 43

Slamming his fist into Chris's nose-Mitchell's annoying younger brother-when he walked in the house probably didn't rank up there with his brightest, shining moments. But the little prick deserved it for saying, "Still didn't mark her, huh, dumbass? Maybe I'll have a go. Francine's got the sweetest ass I've ever seen." Then Chris mimed humping that invisible backside.

Mitchell flattened him, then jumped on him, their vigorous brawl bringing their mother from the kitchen. She let out a piercing whistle that separated them faster than Ethan could. No one messed with his mother. Not if they wanted to breathe.

"What are you doing, Mitchell?" his mother asked in that spooky calm voice of hers. At five feet nothing, with her arms crossed, what she lacked for in size, she made up in presence and attitude.

He hung his head, acting contrite. "Chris said something nasty about Francine."