Page 33 of Break Me (Brayshaw High 5)

He laughs, lifting her. “Oh, you’ll fly all right, ready?”

She squeals, smiling as he launches her up and a foot out, quickly swimming to where she landed.

I trail Raven as she swims over to Maddoc. He sticks his legs out so she can latch on and float in front of him.

She tips her head, and I know she’s remembering our conversation from last night. “Who is this... far from random girl?”

Victoria looks from Raven to me. “And when do we meet her?”

“Nah, nah.” I find myself sliding backward. “Don’t get it twisted, assholes.” I chuckle. “This is business.”

“You realize when it comes to you, ‘business’ means something completely different?” Captain quirks a blond brow.

“‘Course I do.” I laugh. “And she’s mine.”

The girls hide smiles and I frown.

My face falls and I lift my palms. “I mean to handle.”

“Uh-huh.” Victoria laughs.

“What I want to know is who came with her.” Cap helps Zoey onto a raft, turning to us. “We know you, brother, and no way did you take off to wherever the hell she is, come back empty-handed, even if it was for less than a day, and leave the girl behind unsupervised.”

“Exactly,” Maddoc cuts in. “Tell us who he is and what he’s good for.”

I grin, lovin’ the way we understand each other.

No animosity, no surprise, just lookin’ for a quick brief to stay in the know.

My brothers trust my judgment. Always.

“His name’s Micah. He’s a tall, firm fucker who plays ball. Got a stepdad chompin’ at the bit to ship him off the day he turns eighteen and a mom who only wants to please her new husband. He wasn’t the top dog at his school, so he’s used to being under someone. Little aggression in him, but that’ll work in our favor at the warehouses and Wolves Den now that it’s fully functioning.”

I knew Micah would be the one I’d hit up if needed the second I jacked him for his ball.

He was the first to step forward, but he was smooth enough and kept his distance, surveyed the area and was smart enough to pause and wait, aware he had no clue who the asshole in front of him was or what he would do.

He didn’t go half-cocked to show off for his buddies.

He gave the stranger, me, respect because it’s what a clever fucker does.

It’s as the old Bray saying goes...

Don’t underestimate what you don’t know, and once you do, tear it to pieces or tip your fuckin’ hat.

“He should be rollin’ in around tonight.”

“Wait.” Raven is full of suspicion. “So he didn’t fly with you guys?”

“Yup. He’s driving all their shit in.”

A laugh spurts from her and she shakes her head playfully. “You cave-manned her, didn’t you?”

“I might have lifted her off the ground, but I didn’t toss her over my shoulder.” I scoff, but a grin breaks free. “She was sitting in a chair, so I took it, too.”

My family laughs.

“Oh man.” Victoria smiles. “To see the look on her face.”

Yeah, it was pretty fuckin’ fun.

“So she’s at the house now?” Raven climbs out of the pool, Maddoc at her back in case her belly knocks her over.

“Yup.”

“What happens if she name-drops you?” Raven watches me closely.

“If she walks up in there and announces I’m the reason behind it, she’ll never survive here.”

Raven’s hands find the towel Maddoc’s draped over her shoulders, and she nods slightly, a hidden smirk teasing at her lips. “I’m trying to figure out if you want her to or not.”

“Well, uh... you might want to figure that out pretty quickly.” Victoria’s squints past me. “’Cause I spy the new girl breaking her very first rule.”

I whip around, instant tension toughening up my veins.

A streak of silver and black bottoms is really all you can make out, but it’s more than enough to know it’s her.

She’s walking up the driveway toward the mansion, maybe twenty feet from the porch and headed right for it.

“Royce,” Maddoc edges, but I’m already moving.

“I know, brother.”

That’s close enough.BrielleI stomp my ass up the short steps, only to freeze when a familiar shout meets my ears.

“That’s far enough!” Royce calls out.

I whip around, searching, and spot him on the right.

I make my way back down and move toward him, but my feet only carry me a few extra inches before they pause altogether.

Guess they want a seat at the show too.

Royce stalks toward me in long, resilient strides, high, straight shoulders and an angry tip of his chin. He somehow comes across both unconcerned and unbalanced.

His muscles, trim and taut and visible without flexing, only tighten more with each step, the art decorated along the sharp edging of his body shifting with them and forcing my attention to the intricate designs.

They twist and curve and curl from one side of his arms to the next, color his upper chest and part of his neck, leaving you to wonder what they mean, where else they might lie.