Page 38 of The Wild Charge

The man fell.

Reese turned in time to see Tenny slide a knife out of his shirtsleeve.

“No knives,” he said, or, rathercommanded.

Tenny’s gaze snapped to him, vacant a moment, face going lax with shock. When he grimaced, snarling silently, and slid the knife back from where it had come, Reese thought the expression didn’t seem quite right; that he didn’t look nearly as disappointed as his growled curse suggested.

Huh.

But, knifeless, Tenny straightened up into a ballerina spin, twirled, and kicked the oncoming bouncer in the hip – right at the flexor, which spasmed, and sent the man to the ground with a pained shout. The moment the movement ended, Tenny was striking again, with his hand, catching another bouncer in the soft padding under his chin, sending him reeling.

Movement in Reese’s periphery pulled his attention, and he ducked to avoid a swipe, and sprang up to deliver a swift kick to a groin that left a bouncer gagging.

They fought for a while. At some point, they ended up back-to-back. Reese felt the press of sharp shoulder blades against his own, once, and knew on instinct that it was Tenny – he knew his body as well as he knew his own, now, every hard line, and unforgiving point. The weight of him at his back was a comfort, a bolstering force. Reese could have handled all of these idiots by himself, but he didn’t have to, and knowing that, feeling that, sparked something warm in his chest.

He dropped three more, with minimal effort, and then the bouncers were all down, and groaning, and the civilians were pressing in close, shouting with excitement.

“Holy shit, dude!”

“Did you see that?”

“Oh, man! Fuck!”

“They just dropped those guys!”

“Should we, like, call the cops?”

“Whoa, somebody call nine-one-one!”

Time to move.

Reese turned – and found Tenny right behind him, grin wide and wild, blue eyes flashing beneath the colored lights. He looked ecstatic. He looked ready to take on the world.

He looked beautiful. He’d lost his glasses, and his hair was in disarray, and one sleeve of his shirt hung by a thread, but he lookedbeautiful.

Something crowded at the base of Reese’s throat – some pressure. He thought it might be bile, the likeliest explanation, but he didn’t feel sick, and the sensation wasn’t unpleasant, exactly. More like urgent. More like–

Fox appeared between them, and gripped each of them by the wrist. “Let’s go, boys.”

They went.

~*~

Blue lights and sirens were coming up the road by the time they pulled out of the parking lot, but Fox ditched his hat, slouched unbothered behind the wheel, and drove at a reasonable speed.

“Don’t act guilty, and no one will think you’re guilty,” he said, as three patrol cars flashed past them and turned in at the club.

“Do you seriously think we don’t know that?” Tenny asked, scoffing.

Reese let his head flop back against the seat and enjoyed the pleasant hum of adrenaline that still flooded his body. That had been fun, more than anything: not a true challenge but a chance to flex his muscles without holding back, like he had to at home, sparring with a still-hopeless Evan.

But that pressure still lingered at the base of his throat, and he found, when Tenny turned to sneer at his brother, and presented his profile in the glow of the stoplight ahead, that a restlessness hummed beneath his skin. He wasn’t done for the night – or, at least, he didn’t want to be. But he wasn’t sure if he wanted another fight, or if he wanted–

“…earth to Reese.”

Fox was trying to get his attention.

He sat up. “Yes?”

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