Page 38 of Dagger

“That’s some heavy shit man,” Bondo said.

Twister shook his head, rolling his shoulder again. “Yeah, well, guess what, Dagger? You got me into this, so now we’re getting regular updates.”

Brawler nodded. “Next time, I’m siccing Beast on you.”

Beast perked up at his name, ears flicking like he was considering it. The look on Dagger’s face said it all. He knew there was no way in hell he was walking away without telling them.

Shark, leaning in, grinned as sharply as hell. “So. Spill it.”

Flash, still lying in the dirt, completely unfazed by the bruises. “Yeah, you two gonna kill each other, or was all that tension going somewhere else?”

Dagger glared. But at this point? He was trapped.

He rubbed a hand over his face, sighed. “…I kissed her.”

Silence. A long, weighted silence filled with not only male shock, but male admiration. Their brother had tamed a hell of a woman.

Every damn one of them lost it.

Flash shot up so fast it was a miracle he didn’t break his own damn neck. “You what?” He squinted. “You still got your jewels, man?”

Brawler smirked, shaking his head. “So, all your shoving matches bullshit were just foreplay?”

Shark looked like he’d just won the damn lottery. “What did she say?”

Dagger smirked, his face transforming into something Brawler recognized immediately.“That she wasn’t mad at me anymore.”

Flash snorted. “Well, damn. At this rate, it’ll be beddy-bye and lights out. She’ll have you by your swollen jewels.”

Twister rolled his shoulders, wincing. “So, what now? You two getting serious? You still playing dumb? Because if you screw this up, I swear to God?—”

Dagger cut in, absolutely delighted now. “Do you think I want to face Brawler with a side of Beast? Nah, nah. Regular updates. I promise.”

Twister’s eyes narrowed. “Weekly. Hell, daily. Maybe Start a fucking team newsletter.”

Flash laughed, his right eye starting to swell. “Dagger’s Disaster: A Love Story.”

Easy said solemnly, “Sponsored by bad decisions and poor emotional regulation.”

Bondo, who had been watching the whole thing with a smirk, finally chimed in. “I just hope you got some sense knocked into you before you knocked something into her.”

Dagger groaned, shoving his face into his hands.

After picking themselves up they finished their fucking five miles, stumbling into the breakroom a walking disaster of bruises, torn shirts, and general battle-worn bullshit.

Dirt streaked their faces, dried blood crusted at their lips.

The air conditioning hit like a damn blessing, but it didn’t make them look any less wrecked. The sleek espresso machine hummed in the background, the scent of freshly brewed coffee a stark contrast to the sweaty disaster they’d just dragged in from the foothills.

Beast trotted in after them, tail high, tongue lolling, looking like he’d had the best damn morning of his life. He was the only one who wasn’t limping.

Brawler rolled his shoulders, still feeling the phantom ache of Dagger’s hits. He felt good. The tension from earlier was gone, the fight had worked out everything they weren’t going to say out loud, and now they could breathe.

Tex walked in. Stopped. His piercing blue gaze swept the room, taking in their collective disaster of an appearance, the torn shirts, the bloody noses, the general look of men who had absolutely not been doing PT the way they were supposed to.

He stared at them. Expression blank. Long enough that it started to get uncomfortable. Like he was mentally calculating how much bullshit he had the patience for today.

“Let me guess. You all tripped,” he said deadpan as hell.