How could he do this? I thought he said he could handle it…
Jack stood waiting, his arms crossed and brow furrowed. Mark was due back any minute now, and from what Felix had just called Jack about, he wasn’t going to be in the best of shape.
The Irishman let out a breath and looked at the clock. It was a quarter past midnight.
Suddenly, there was a bang, and then the door opened rather fast and abruptly. Jack sighed and glared at the said door.
Mark came stumbling through, leaning heavily on the door. He let out a grunt and straightened, crawling up the door like some crippled old man. The minute he caught sight of Jack, he froze.
All Jack could do was glare at him. The dark-haired man had been fighting. It was extremely obvious. His knuckles were bloody and bruised, there was a bit of blood, not his, on his jaw, and there were scratches all over his exposed forearms. His black hair was disheveled, and his glasses were nowhere to be seen.
Mark swallowed as he