Page 125 of The Wild Charge

He scanned all of them, head tilted to an appraising angle when he got to Eden and Axelle, standing at the end beside Albie. Said, “Well, whoever’s watching us knows who we are already, so.” He shrugged and took a sip of his beer. “What’s it matter?”

“Who are you?” Albie asked, bowing up.

“Pongo.” He extended a lazy hand Fox’s way. “Your sisters are under a tight watch. You’re welcome.”

Fox accepted his shake, and Tenny noted the way his knuckles turned white, and the way Pongo’s generous mouth thinned with discomfort. “Appreciate it, mate. Where’s your boss?”

Pongo withdrew his hand and flexed his fingers. “Upstairs with Shaman’s people.” In a more sincere voice: “I wasn’t kidding. He and your sisters are swamped with guards, man.”

Fox nodded. “Send word we’re coming up.”

Pongo took another sip and reached for his phone.

Tenny scanned the lobby as they walked toward the elevator bank, and noted the others doing the same. Most of the foot traffic was corporate types with rolling luggage, talking into cellphones and checking watches. A woman sat alone in a corner, sipping wine, and gave him a thorough once-over as he passed. There were no red flags. No one looked suspicious.

Until they reached the elevators.

There was a whole long row of gold-plated doors framed by slim silver trash cans and potted palms; only one set of doors, though, was bracketed by two men who came from very different walks of life, but who were serving the same purpose. On the left, a tall, broad-shouldered security guard in a black-on-black suit, the coils of an earpiece snaking around the back of his neck, his expression cool and blank. One of Ian’s, doubtless.

Opposite him, slouched back against the wall with an elbow resting on top of a trashcan, was a too-thin man with a hood pulled up over shaggy black hair, a lip ring, and a half-laced pair of combat boots with his skinny jeans stuffed down the tops. He was scrolling on his phone with an oblivious aura, but his gaze, when it snapped up to them, was dark and calculating and cold in a way Tenny was all too familiar with. He was a Dog, going by the wallet chain and the subtle silk-screened paw print on his hoodie, but, unlike Pongo, this was one who’d stuck a knife in someone before.

Ian’s man acknowledged their approach with a nod, and murmured something into the mic up his sleeve.

But it was the Lean Dog who pushed off the wall and greeted them. In Russian. “Maverick says you speak many languages?” It was a question and a test all in one. Tenny was a little bit impressed.

“He’s right,” Fox replied in kind.

“And he’s not the only one with tricks,” Tenny said, and drew the first flicker of emotion from the man’s face: a quirk of a black brow. “Do we pass inspection, comrade?”

Fox huffed what might have been an amused sound, or a sigh, or some combination of both.

“You brought women?”

“Professionals,” Fox corrected. “Good for more than guarding lifts.”

The Russian’s lips pressed together in a flat, unimpressed line, but he punched the UP button. “They’re in four-ten,” he said in heavily-accented English, then resumed his slouch against the wall.

“Warm welcome,” Eden quipped once they were on board and heading up. “What do we know about the New York chapter? ‘Cause I can’t even guess after meeting those two.”

Fox shrugged, gaze fixed on the floor counter. “I met Mav a few years back. He’s solid. I don’t know what his crew’s like these days, though. He had a clown and an ex-bratvakiller waiting for us. That speaks to interesting choices.”

“Or it’s only a more diverse hiring pool,” Tenny pointed out.

Fox’s wavy, gold reflection smirked. “And we finally hear from the brat in the back. If you hadn’t antagonized that one just now, I’d have thought you’d gone mute.”

Tenny frowned – but hehadbeen quiet. Reese had begun shooting him theselooks, much like he was doing now, the weight of his regard heavy against the side of Tenny’s face.

Their trip had been uneventful, but long. They’d taken two vehicles, since the girls had tagged along last minute; Albie had ridden with them in Axelle’s GTO, which left Fox, Tenny, Reese, and Evan in the club truck, towing the bikes and their gear in the utility trailer. They’d taken turns with the driving, and driven straight through, save stops for gas and snacks, restroom breaks and the occasional leg stretch. Fox had confiscated the wheel for the last leg, when they hit city-inbound traffic, and then impossible Manhattan traffic (parking the trailer had been a bitch). Riding shotgun, Tenny had found himself with an elbow propped in the window, watching the sunset wink off windows as the city came to life with a thousand, thousand lights. Fleeting quips about the traffic, their fellow motorists, and Fox’s driving had passed through his mind…but flown right out again.

He'd thought it would be nice to get back to a real city – to feel the hum of humanity and possibility. So many targets, so many risks; alleyways and sleek high-rises and posh settings had always been more his scene than quaint shops and run-down gas stations and sweet tea. The American South was mind-boggling, but New York he understood. It also should have been a relief to put some distance between them and Marshall Hunter.

But he’d spent far too much of the trip checking the rearview mirrors for a tail. At a McDonald’s in Virginia, he’d been halfway across the parking lot, hand already reaching for a knife before he realized the face he’d glimpsed from the truck belonged to a father with three young children, and not the object of his hatred. As the tires hissed over the bridge on their way into the city, he realized for the first time just how difficult it would prove to keep Reese safe in a place like this. Back home – God, Dartmoor was home, now – he could see someone coming; here, danger lurked around every corner. And maybe Hunter was going rogue, coming after them…or maybe Hunter’s masters wanted Reese dead just as badly. They wanted all of them dead, probably, but Tenny wasn’t worried for himself or anyone else. Only Reese.

Reese who stared at him now.

Tenny ignored him, and told Evan, “Your shirt’s wrinkled all to be damned.”

Axelle snorted while Evan made displeased noises.

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