Page 82 of Brawler
Ron’s mouth twitched, the barest ghost of a smile, and he jotted something down on the pad in front of him. “I think we can manage that.”
Brawler’s chest ached with something raw and fierce, relief threaded with impatience. He didn’t give a damn about protocols or NDAs. All that mattered was closing the distance between him and Emily, seeing her face, hearing from her own mouth if what they had in that jungle was real.
Tex glanced his way, gave the smallest of nods. Permission. Encouragement. Brotherhood.
Brawler’s fists unclenched. Finally. He was going to her.
Ron rattled off an address. “She’s a student at Columbia University. Top of her class.”
Of course she was, Brawler thought, pride tugging sharp in his chest.Doesn’t surprise me one damn bit.
Tex gave a short nod, scanning the room. “Time to go, boys.”
Maddy thoroughly kissed her husband, Senator McPherson smiled, and Shark’s father-in-law nodded at them all. Then seven men turned as one, boots echoing against the polished floors as they strode out of the State Department. Suits and aides pressed back against the walls, eyes wide as the operators cut a path straight through.
Tex walked away from the building, and Brawler felt the weight settle on him. It wasn’t the kind of pressure you could see in his shoulders or his stride. It was heavier than that, hanging low in his chest, thick in his silence. His gruffness in the secretary’s office, his fury over Emily being treated like some kind of international threat, it was all just the shell around it.
Brawler had never thought much about Tex’s authority or how he carried the team. It was innate. Masterful. Respected without question. That was trust in the truest sense.
Just like the way Brawler felt Flash reaching for him from a distance he couldn’t catalog, couldn’t explain. He just…knew.
Most of the time when Tex was in this mood, when even Bondo couldn’t reach him, the team left him be. Respectful. Smart.
But Brawler couldn’t. Not this time.
“Mike,” he said.
Tex turned, sharp-eyed, the kind of look reserved for men who called him by his first name. “This must be serious,” he murmured. Every one of his brothers stopped too.
Brawler shifted his weight, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s about Flash. I want you to know…even though he’s absent right now, he’s fighting something. I don’t understand it, and fuck it, I can’t explain it, but that fool, that trickster, that pain in the ass is winning. When he comes back to us, and he will, he’ll be stronger for it.”
Tex’s jaw worked, his eyes steady.
“This isn’t on you,” Brawler pressed. “It’s bigger than us, but it’s about us, too. About what it means to be…warriors.” He exhaled hard. “The echoes of his fight feel…dangerous. Epic. Inevitable. I don’t know how we’ll be called, but I feel like we will.”
Tex took a hard breath. His voice dropped. “You’re such an asset to this team. I don’t say it enough, but your calm, your special skills…they’re our gain. Thank you for telling me about Flash. But I always knew that crazy bastard had depth he didn’t even know he possessed.” His throat worked, the words rasping out rough. “I can’t even…” He looked away, clearing his throat. “…imagine losing him.”
The guys murmured, looking at each other, and Brawler felt the warmth of their bond waving through them all.
When they made it to the vans, Tex turned, his tone dry. “Looks like we’re going to New York City.”
Brawler leaned against the doorframe, one corner of his mouth quirking. “Dibs on my playlist.”
A chorus of groans rolled through the team.
“Christ, no,” Shark muttered.
“Sweet Jesus, not again,” Twister groaned.
Even Tex pinched the bridge of his nose.
Brawler just grinned, sliding into the seat. For the first time since she’d been taken, he felt the pulse of anticipation instead of dread. They were going to her.
The black tide split again.Smoke and blood.
Flash stumbled into a field littered with bodies, the air thick with iron and gunpowder. The crash of cannon fire rattled his teeth. The stench of rot and sweat clawed at his nose.
Lines of men in blue and gray clashed, bayonets flashing, muskets firing, screams rising into the churn. Brother against brother. The republic turned against itself.
