14. CHAPTER 9
AXL
Kase hits the punching bag hard and sends it swinging into my chest. I catch it with both hands, shoving it back at him.
He’s every bit of my height and size, and he needs to let off some steam.
We all do. It’s been a long couple of weeks waiting for the fucking ceremony.
When I’m not working for the Ravens, I’ve been following Saylor, making sure no one fucking touches her when she goes out with Kynlee.
Ever since she grinded on my dick at Velum, all I can think about is getting my heathen on her knees. So I’ve been hitting the gym a lot.
“Harder,” I tell him. “Is that all you’ve fucking got?”
“Fuck you.” He drives his fist into the leather, and the impact rattles up both my arms. That’s more like it.
Kase has been here for the past two hours, and he’s not slowing down.
His knuckles are raw and sweat is dripping off of him.
He’s got that look in his eyes that tells me he’s not punching the bag.
He’s using the bag to get out whatever is working him up.
I know the feeling. I’ve been running on it for three years. I’ve spent so much time working out down here, trying to get my mind off of fucking my little heathen.
The gym at the estate is underground with heavy bags bolted to the ceiling in rows. Weight benches and weight stacks line the other side with mirrors along the walls. The Ravens gave us this elaborate gym so the men they control can burn off their fucking aggression instead of killing each other.
Priest is on the bench across the room, bench pressing 300lbs and hardly breaking a sweat.
The bar goes up and down, smooth and controlled, and his face doesn’t change.
He’s been quiet tonight, which means he’s either pissed off about something or there’s something on his mind too.
With Priest, it’s usually the same thing.
All of us seem to have different shit going on—different from the fucked-up work we do.
“Again.” Kase throws a combination that rocks me backward. The leather cracks with each hit, and his wraps are soaked through with sweat and blood from where his knuckles split.
“Your hands are fucked,” I tell him.
“I don’t give a shit about my hands.”
His phone buzzes on the bench behind him. He ignores it. It buzzes again. Then again.
“That’s the third time in ten minutes,” I say, positioning the bag again. “Should you just see what they fucking want?”
“It’s Kynlee.” He drives his fist into the bag again. “She wants to know more about the mansion so she can pack for fucking Veronica.”
Priest snickers and then lifts the weights again. Crew stands nearby, spotting him in case he needs to assist, but we all know he won’t have to. We can all hold our own, and we’re all too stubborn to accept any help.
I just shake my head. “She’s bringing that fucking cat?”
“She made some bullshit deal with Justin fucking Carter to be his Dove, and he’s letting her bring that damn cat with her.” He hits the bag so hard the chain rattles. “That’s what my sister thinks is important right now. The cat. Not that she’s about to let that creepy fucker between her legs.”
Priest racks the bar and sits up. “Why aren’t you telling her she needs to let someone else catch her? Anyone fucking else. Crew would be better than Justin.”
Crew shoves Priest’s shoulder. “I’m not fucking Kynlee.”
He wouldn’t. Kynlee’s like a sister to Crew.
Kase and Crew have been best friends since before any of us took our oath, and it’s no secret they used to pass the same women between them back then.
Kase knows what’s coming once Crew claims his Dove.
He’s going to get to watch, and Crew is going to let him. That’s just how they work.
To each their own, but it’s not for me. I don’t want to show off what I have. Then I’d just have to kill anyone who gets ideas about her.
“Have you met my sister?” Kase focuses on Priest. “Do you think anything I say is going to change what she’s going to do? Besides, I won’t be out in those woods with them to stop it, and Axl is going to be too busy dragging Saylor out.”
Damn right I am. I don’t want anything bad to happen to Kase’s sister, but someone is going to claim her, and there isn’t much any of us can do about it.
“Justin’s a piece of shit,” Priest says, grabbing his water bottle. “I’ve been saying it for years.”
“Nobody is arguing with you.” I shove the bag back toward Kase. I’m trying to just avoid the bastard. I haven’t even seen the fucker since our last job, which is fine by me.
Kase’s jaw tightens so hard that it clicks. He doesn’t say anything for a second. Then he hits the bag one more time—harder than any punch he’s thrown all night—and steps back.
“She thinks because he is Saylor’s brother that means she can handle him.” He steps back and peels the wraps off his hands. “That’s my sister. She thinks she can manage anyone.”
“Maybe she can,” I tell him. I don’t trust Justin on an assignment, but any of these sex-deprived fucks are a risk to Kase’s sister, and we all know it.
Kase grabs his towel and wipes his face.
His phone buzzes again. He picks it up, reads the screen, and types back with his bloody fingers.
“Now she wants to know if Veronica needs any special shots before she moves in. She’s acting like this is some dorm with housing paperwork.
No one is going to give a shit about that goddamn cat. ”
He shoves the phone in his pocket and tosses his towel to the side. “If he hurts her, I’m going to kill him. I don’t give a fuck about what the Ravens do to me after.”
If the man is willing to die for his sister, I’m not going to be the one to tell him he’s wrong. Because he’s not. If I had a sister, I wouldn’t let her anywhere near Justin Carter.
The gym door opens, and two of Dane Sinclair’s sons walk in, making us all straighten our shoulders. They don’t come around much since they married and started spending time with their wives. They used to train alongside us even though they’ve never had to serve as Talons.
Tate comes in first with a brown folder in his hand. Thorne is behind him, already pulling his shirt over his head before the door shuts. We know these men well, but the energy in the room still shifts. It always does when a member of a founding family shows up. Their power is endless.
“Priest.” Thorne nods at him and throws a punch at the nearest bag, hard enough to rattle the chain. “You look like you’re going soft since I haven’t been here to push you.”
“Let’s see what you can fucking bench,” Priest fires back. “Or do you need me to take a bit of the weight off for you?”
Thorne drops onto the bench and adjusts the bar. He starts bench pressing the weight that Priest was using. He laughs while he does it, pumping out the reps. “How many do you need me to do?”
Priest watches with his arms crossed. Thorne has proved his point.
Tate shakes his head. “If you need someone to tell you how big your dick is, brother, go home to Sloane.” Then Tate tosses the folder on the bench next to where I stand.
“What’s this?”
“That assignment you and Priest did a couple of weeks ago—it opened up something bigger. Something we’ve been looking for.” His voice is even, and his face gives me nothing. “Read and memorize this file. Only the four of you. No one else is to be brought into this unless we say otherwise.”
I pick up the folder. It’s thicker than I expected. “How big are we talking?”
“Big enough that we’re going to be personally involved in this shit, and it will go the way we say it goes.” He holds my stare. “I’m not fucking kidding.”
I nod. We know better than to question the Sinclairs. The fact that they’re bringing this to us lets us know where we stand with them. We’ve always been the men they come to when they need something done, and done with discretion.
Thorne racks the bar and sits up, rolling his shoulders. He focuses on Tate. “You know, you could try smiling once in a while. You walked in here looking like you’re about to snap someone’s neck. Maybe you should hit the bag for a while and work that shit off.”
“Don’t fuck with me right now, Thorne.”
The rest of us stay quiet, watching the brothers.
“Reese is a saint for putting up with that scowling face every day.” Thorne grins at him, coming to his feet.
Tate glares at Thorne. He walks closer and then pulls back and hits him. It all happens so fast, and there’s no warning. His fist connects with Thorne’s shoulder, and Thorne stumbles backward. He catches himself on the weight rack and then grins at his brother.
“There he is. Take your shit out on me, big brother.”
Thorne comes at Tate swinging, catching him with a hook to the ribs that would have dropped most men.
Tate takes it and drives his shoulder into Thorne’s chest, shoving him backward into the heavy bag.
The chain rattles and the bag swings wide.
Thorne gets his arm around Tate’s neck and wrenches him into a headlock.
Tate drops his weight, drives his elbow up into Thorne’s neck, and rips free.
He catches Thorne with a short right that opens up his lip.
Thorne spits blood on the concrete and grins at his brother with red teeth.
They break apart. Both breathing hard. Both looking like they enjoyed every second of it.
“That was a smile,” Thorne tells him, wiping the blood off his chin with his shirt. “See? You can do it. You just need a little blood first.”
“I’ll throw a fucking party once we deal with this shit.” Tate wipes his knuckles on his pants and looks at me. “We have a personal stake in this, and that should tell you all you need to know about how fucking serious this is.” He gives his brother a pointed look. “So get your head on straight.”
“You don’t think I know what this means?” Thorne closes the distance while shouting in his brother’s face. “I’m well aware of what this shit has cost our wives. But being a prick about it isn’t going to get the job done.”
The Sinclair women have been through some fucked-up shit. Most in our world don’t know anything about it, and they never will hear about it from us. But the Sinclairs are always on the hunt for a threat to their family, and they won’t hesitate to use us to help get the job done.
Thorne pushes away from his brother and nods toward the door. “Let’s fucking go,” he says to Tate.
They don’t say anything else. Tate grabs his brother’s shoulder, and Thorne gives him a small nod of understanding. They walk out the same way they walked in. The door slams behind them, echoing in the room.
Priest looks at the folder in my hands. “Whatever is in there is going to fuck up our week.”
“It’s going to fuck up more than our week if this is as big as it seems to be.
” I set the folder on the bench. “I’ll read it first, and then you all can have it.
My mother and father have some dinner at the Carter house tomorrow night, and I invited myself to join them, so I need to memorize this tonight. ”
Priest sits on the bench, leans forward on his knees, and chuckles. “I told you that Justin and you are as good as brothers. He’s going to be your new BFF before the year is out.”
“I’d rather chew fucking glass.” I grab my water and gulp down several swallows. “But I can’t miss an opportunity to remind my girl what’s coming for her in those woods.”
Crew pushes me with his shoulder. “What the fuck are you going to do at a fucking lame-ass dinner party? Tell her what a dirty slut she’s going to be for you while you sip brandy with her father and dipshit brother?”
I crack my knuckles. I always have a fucking plan. “I’m having a little present delivered to her tomorrow. We’ll see how well my heathen can control herself.”
The guys all chuckle. They know exactly what I’m going to do.
Priest shakes his head, but he’s still laughing. “She’s going to murder you.”
“She can try, but I’ll have fun punishing her.” I pull out my phone to check her location. “So it sounds like I can’t lose. Later fuckers.”
I’m about to play with my girl.