Page 208 of Tangled Like Us

Making a clear path for me to go through. But theyboo.Pissed that I’m about to end their party.

My boots crunch red Solo cups while I charge ahead. Unblinking, reflexes humming. Not far.

And then the white ranger lands a hard blow into Xander’s face. Blood gushes out of his nose.

And he crumples on a headstone in a heap.I’m here.One second too late, but I wrench the white ranger back by the collar.

Someone yells, “Holy shit! Baywatch-Thor is coming out of nowhere!”

The white ranger flails at me. “Heymangetoffme.”

I throw him to the side with extreme force. His chest thuds on a mound of dirt. Quickly, I crouch to Xander, who groans and cups his nose.

Lanky at six-foot-two, he’s pretty scrawny for fifteen—and without pause, I lift him in my arms.

He tucks his head into my chest with some type of familiarity, seeking safety in my clutch. As though he knows exactly who I am without checking.

I’m almost whiplashed with how many years I’ve spent protecting him, and as I carry Xander down the hill, I feel like he’s nine-years-old again.

He’s safe.

Probably broke his nose, but he’s safe. Hell, he’ll be joining the broken nose club. Many bodyguards are in it, and so is Maximoff.

I swat a plastic cup that someone tries to throw at me.Booingintensified. I don’t give a rat’s ass.

Finding some foot traction, I reach the bottom of the hill without slipping. And right as I lock eyes with Jane—Tony motherfucking Ramella cuts into my path.

I glower. Wanting to choke him with his lifeguard whistle.

He looks just as murderous. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing, Moretti?”

“I’m holding your bloodied client and you’re askingmethat? You shouldn’t have even let Xander swing—”

“Hewantedto fight,” Tony sneers, his blue eyes pulsating with rage that I feel. “It was a boxing match.”

“Where’s the fuckingring?” I growl.

Tony points at me. “See, that’s your goddamn problem. You can’t hover over your client. You gotta let him live his life.”

“He’s fifteen!”

“He’s a fuckin’ teenager! You did worse at his age—”

“Vaffangul’,” I growl.Fuck you.

He spits the same Italian curse at me.

If Xander weren’t in my clutch right now, hiding in the crook of my arm, I wouldn’t be able to control my hot-blooded urge to deck Tony in the fucking face.

It’s the only reason I walk away from him now.

He shouts at my back, “You’re gonna regret this, Moretti!”

We’ll see.

45

JANE COBALT