Page 32 of Brazen Defiance (Brazen Boys #4)

RJ

C lara’s shriek of terror has me on my feet, looking for the threat and unable to find one. Until she collapses to the mat, and I catch sight of gray fur clinging to her back.

“Cat, cat,” she whimpers while Jansen’s fucking cat talks at me like he’s lecturing me on the insult of being shoved in a bag.

The scruff of the beast’s neck is in my fist before I can think about it, and it’s skittering across the mat, tail straight up, a hissing yowl accompanying its unceremonious journey across the room.

Then he’s clambering up the storage cabinet in the back, squeezing against the top and the ceiling, yelling the whole way.

But Clara’s whimpers have me dropping to the mat next to her, blood pooling on her back next to a series of newly scabbed scratches and a few Band-Aids, the sight of my cum dribbling down her thigh momentarily distracting me from the blood.

Blood first, RJ , I scold myself. “Are you okay? I’ll grab the first aid kit.”

“That cat doesn’t like me,” she whimpers.

“Or he wants in on the action,” I joke, needing to lighten the tension tonight more than I’ve needed anything in a while. If it gets too serious, I’m going to think about everything I’m walking away from. I might not be the best at jokes, but I need something. Anything right now.

“If he wants in, he’s going to have to put those claws away,” she grouses, and I know I’m good to grab the kit.

I clean her up, not sure what to say at this point. Apparently, a cat sex joke took the last of my words for now. Instead, I focus on getting all the blood off her, covering her back with even more Band-Aids.

Once that’s done, I sit back on my heels, and she rolls upright in front of me. “That wasn’t the afterglow I was hoping for,” she says.

“Me either. Want to, ah…” I motion at her thigh, the shiny residue I left captivating, but awkward to talk about. “Clean up? I’ll get the cat down. And find some way to secure the bag.”

“Paper clip,” she says, pushing to her feet and heading to the bathroom, turning back once, her eyes tracing my naked body in a way that has me wishing I were ready for round two. Not that we have time.

“What?” I say, dragging my mind back to the conversation.

“Paper clip. To lock the bag.”

“Ah. Smart.”

She grins, the door clicking behind her.

I go into the office to find what she suggested, eventually deciding the safety pin I find will work even better.

As I’m reaching for the bag to coax the cat back in, the crash of shattering glass has my vigilance rising full force, a dark form forcing the front door open.

“Clara, lock the door,” I shout, diving for the sword stand.

The dark figure rushes me, and I end up flinging the whole stand at him, barely snagging one of the wood handles before they clatter to the floor, the intruder stumbling over them.

He looks up, and a grin flings across his face, his dark eyes bright with something that looks like excitement.

I swing at him, but he barely ducks away, grabbing a sword of his own and spinning it to test its balance and weight, his boots sure, signaling he’s ready for action.

He knows what he’s doing.

“Can’t say I’ve ever been in a sword fight with a naked man,” he says as we circle each other. “Where’s the girl? You fuck her so good she disappeared? Or maybe so bad she took off?” He tilts his head, and it’s all I can do to keep my rage deep in my belly and not in my movements.

My silence bothers him, though, his face twisting. “What, cat got your tongue?”

The cat in the back chooses that moment to yowl, and the man laughs, a hysteric cackle that has goosebumps flaring across my skin. This man, whoever he is, is dangerous in a way I’ve never seen in-person before.

“Ah, cat didn’t get your tongue, then. You got a pretty pussy, then the pretty pussy got loose? You are shit at running, you know? Who takes the time to fuck on the run? And who can’t keep track of one house cat? Let alone one slip of a girl?”

He strikes and I parry, a series of quick blows, none of them landing, but the clack of wood has the cat yelling and flinging itself from the top of the cabinet. Only I can’t watch where it goes, all my focus on the man in front of me.

His voice is clear in the face of my silence as we both step back, his head tilting as he takes me in.

He’s skilled, but by the way he moves, this sword isn’t the kind he’s trained with.

Bow staff seems likely by the way he swings, but still.

He’s got at least five years of muscle on me and unknown additional training. This fight won’t be easily won.

“You know, you’re not the one I need here. Give me the girl and I’ll leave you and your pussy be.” His eyes glint, like he thinks that’s one hell of a joke. Or like he wants me to lose my temper.

But I’m not the sort to fight without a plan. And right now, I’m still building one. Risking a few more strikes and steps, I press for weaknesses, and I find a small one, my sword slamming into his hip before he can get his guard up.

This time, his grin stretches wide. “You’re a creepy thing, aren’t you? It makes me wish this blade were real. I’d cut off those dangly bits, just to see if you’d scream. Would you, do you think? Scream for me? It’s a rare man who wouldn’t when I go for his balls.”

The soft click of the bathroom door has my heart in my throat, and I hum a strange noncommittal sound, hoping to distract the man in front of me from whatever Clara is doing.

She should have stayed hidden, though. That would have been smart.

Another soft click across the room puts her in the office I just left, but that’s all I can focus on before the man is coming at me with force, trying to tease out my weaknesses.

We step and swipe, dodge and jab, our mixed techniques messy and frantic. The crack of the wood is familiar, but the growing unease in my gut is terrifying.

I’m strong; I know what I’m doing.

But I’m not a professional.

And this man is. And the longer we parry, the brighter his grin.

We step back, both of us panting, both of us failing to gain an advantage over the other. “Damn, kid. This is fun. Wish we had real steel, you know? Do you think that last strike was strong enough to draw blood? I know that one on my hip would have.”

He steps forward, the sword spinning in his grip in a way that verifies he’s a bow staff guy, and while I’ve done some mixed training in the past, it’s never been this serious. It’s never been my girl on the line.

Hell, I haven’t even had a girl for that long. I’m not giving her up.

I dodge and weave, hoping that he’ll tire himself out, but sweat drips down my spine, my feet are damp on the mats, and I’m not sure how much longer I’ll last. Meanwhile, the man grins, freaking me right out.

The click of the office door distracts me just enough for him to slide in, smashing the flat side of the blade against my ribs, knocking me back, pain rioting through my chest. I get my guard up, but he’s ready, swiping out with his leg, snagging one of my ankles.

I bounce out of the swipe, but I’m off balance, and without hesitation, he chucks the whole damn sword at me, the handle slamming into my gut as I knock the blade away from my face, then he’s on me, pinning my sword arm to the mat, digging his fingers into the tendons of my wrist, forcing the smooth wood from my grip.

And he laughs, his knees pinning my thighs to the ground, keeping me from rolling free.

“Caught you, you silent asshole! Hold still and I’ll get you trussed up. Then I can take the girl and go. Although, you’d be fun to play with. Think the boss hates you enough for you to be a toy for me?”

I’m not a toy. And I won’t let Clara end up caught in whatever this man is talking about. But I’m stuck. Any move I have is countered by a man with more years of experience than me.

I’ve got nothing besides the need to keep Clara out of this guy’s hands. And no way to make it happen.