In most cases, he had good reason to be afraid. He had more enemies than anyone would rightly want, and trouble had a tendency to drop into his proverbial lap like a grand piano filled with dynamite and assassins. The noise that came from inside his house was his current cause of concern. He stood outside his house, back against his front door. From the other side came a muffled cacophony of sounds that seemed so inappropriate that the sensible part of Jax's mind had made a "Pfff" sound and thrown up its hands in defeat. It was the sounds of stomping feet, flashing blades, stampeding horses. Mostly, though, it was the sound of Mongolian war cries.
Jax wasn't sure exactly how the Mongol hordes of Genghis Khan had ended up in his little suburban home, but he was glad that they hadn't quite grasped the concept of doors yet.
Small victories, you know.