CHAPTER TWELVE #2
Lachlan cocks his head. ‘Wanna fight?’
Oh.
Motherfucker.
Kade narrows his eyes because yes, he does.
He really, truly wants to fight this man, learn him, map him.
‘Why would I wanna fight you?’
‘Because you’re stressed and frustrated, and your boss probably benched you to babysit me,’ Lachlan simply says, shoulder against the bars of the gate, basking like a shark in the sun.
‘If I let you in—’
‘I’ll behave.’
‘Don’t interrupt.’
The corners of his mouth curl. ‘Sorry.’
‘If I let you in,’ he repeats with emphasis, ‘you’ll have to submit to testing.’
‘What kind?’
‘Blood tests, a physical, probably more.’
‘Little Harker’s orders, huh?’
‘It’ll be invasive.’
‘Will you be there?’
‘I suppose.’
‘So we can still talk?’
Kade sighs. ‘If you want.’
Lachlan pulls his shades off. ‘Perfect.’
‘Just like that?’
‘Yeah, just like that.’
‘If you do anything stupid—’
‘Look, this is getting really dull, OK? I know you’re suspicious and I don’t blame you but for another six days, I can’t die and unless you’re harbouring anyone who was involved with what happened seven years ago, I couldn’t care less about Iron Star, or your boss.
I’m here for you. I only want to see you.
If you tell me to behave, I will. You tell me to undergo tests, I will. ’
‘What if I tell you to leave?’
‘Then I’ll leave, but I won’t be able to go far. I’ll still be close by, watching.’
‘Like a stalker.’
‘Thin line between that and bodyguard, I grant you,’ Lachlan chuckles, then frowns, fingers wrapping around the fox tattoo. Kade is starting to recognise when Lachlan’s thoughts drift towards the little girl in the photograph. ‘It’s your call.’
‘Is there any point restraining you?’
‘I’ll pretend there is if it makes your people more relaxed.’
‘It won’t.’
‘Then it’s your decision, Kade.’
Kade. Fucker’s playing nice now, is he?
‘Fine, but you stay with me at all times.’
‘Heard.’
Kade waves his hand loosely to Finn and Cole through the cameras. The enormous gates groan into motion. ‘I can’t promise you won’t get shot or stabbed.’
Lachlan slips inside. ‘By you?’
‘We’ll see.’
?
Lachlan doesn’t show much interest in his surroundings when he’s allowed in through the rarely used front entrance.
His focus is firmly fixed on one particular thing.
Kade says, ‘I take it you don’t need a tour?’
‘I mapped it all pretty well.’ Lachlan falls perfectly into step with Kade as they head towards the training area on the ground floor. ‘You have names for the floors?’
‘Not officially. Just third floor, sixth floor, and so on.’
‘That’s where Troy was rumoured to keep his psycho son locked up.’
‘I don’t know anything about that,’ Kade lies mildly.
Drills are wrapping up elsewhere in the training area, but several of Kade’s best, the same people helping reinforce the Tower this morning, have gathered along the edge of the floor to watch.
Luca stands among them with his arms crossed.
They’ve all been briefed on Riley’s orders to test the intruder, so nobody shows open hostility, but Kade can read enough in the looks they throw.
This is still the man who killed eighteen of their own.
‘Oi, Motorkade,’ Luca calls out as obnoxiously as possible, drawing Lachlan’s attention. ‘What’s up?’
‘Not much, Lucozade,’ Kade answers, giving his friend the fuck off look, that Luca cheerfully ignores. Once inside, the familiar smell of gym rubber and sweat kicks up. Kade goes to the central training circle.
‘Your friend?’
‘Yeah. They’re probably gonna watch if that’s—’
‘I don’t care who sees,’ Lachlan says, has an air of unimpeachable confidence about him that Kade envies and fears. It’s last-man-standing at the end of the world, so nothing matters, that kind of vibe. ‘Are we sparring or fighting?’
‘Fighting, always,’ Kade says, not bothering to wrap his hands. He eyes Lachlan as the older man kicks his sneakers and socks off, sets them neatly down on a sideline bench with his hoodie. Kade doesn’t hide his interest, openly searching the well-defined torso for recent marks, cuts, bruises even.
There’s nothing but clean, lilac-coloured scars.
‘Fucker,’ he utters under his breath.
Lachlan rolls his head to crack his neck, turns around. His bare back is heavily scarred, the lines much thicker than any kind Kade has ever seen, raised enough to cast small shadows of their own in the light.
‘Grab a weapon if you like.’
‘I don’t need one.’
Lachlan smirks, seems to like it when Kade is bratty.
He’s the only one.
‘Suit yourself.’
Kade warms up a little, only perfunctory to prevent tearing. He’s still carrying the burn of last night. All throughout he never takes his eyes off of Lachlan, who doesn’t warm up either. It’s like a staring competition.
When ready, Kade steps into a smaller central circle. The mat is soft beneath his feet, but it’s one of the thinnest, made for landing training. The real world isn’t padded, after all. Lachlan comes closer, his body language casual, but his eyes… there’s nothing easy about the way he looks at Kade.
‘Come on then,’ he bids softly, the tone running the wrong way up Kade’s spine to elicit a sense of unwilling heat. It’s just the anticipation of a good fight, nothing more. ‘Give it your best shot.’
Kade starts off hard and fast, no learning curve, he goes right for the jugular, seeks to expose weak points.
Against anyone less skilled, such a series of moves would easily drop them.
Kade has a fantastic roundhouse, and he knows how to feint, how to shift right before throwing it to craft an opening.
Lachlan catches his leg before it hits, didn’t fall for the feint.
If anything he seemed to expect it.
The silence from the others is deafening.
Kade huffs, regroups when Lachlan lets his leg drop, head tipped to the side as if to say, that all you got? He has a feeling this one will know all his moves, so he decides to improvise.
‘Attack me,’ he tells Lachlan.
Lachlan moves in close, no hands raised for defence, it’s an insanely stupid mistake, but they’re not sparring and Kade has never fought anyone like him, so for a few moments they just circle. Kade keeps both hands raised, body angled to the side. Lachlan looks him over, never seems to blink.
Then, whipcord fast, he bursts into motion.
Kade only barely dips to the side, wheels around and tries to land a kick but Lachlan is moving now and there’s no stopping it. Blows thrown and blocked, the rhythm pulls them in, locks everything down and Kade can’t think, he can only react.
The first time Lachlan hits him, it’s not a punch, but a slap.
He’s playing with him. Kid gloves.
Oh, this prick.
Angry and insulted, Kade throws a back spin kick and drives his left fist into Lachlan’s face with furious gravity. It lands so well, he knows he broke his jaw, felt the crack. Lachlan doesn’t waste a single second, he sweeps Kade’s leg, drops him and then boops his nose when he gets on top.
Kade punches him hard, rolls to dislodge and then kicks up.
‘Stop fucking around!’
Lachlan says, ‘You can’t heal like me.’
‘Do your worst, Bodyguard!’ he snaps. The older man blinks softly, seems briefly struck but not by hands. ‘I mean it.’
‘Come on, then.’
Kade pulls out all the stops, he’s not holding back and Lachlan can take everything, all he has to give and more.
It’s exciting and it’s infuriating and Kade really wishes the others weren’t watching, because he’s definitely getting turned on, but that happens all the time, adrenaline and arousal are twin rivers running different paths to the sea.
It’s only when Kade has to start thinking on his feet, inventing new moves on the spot that he actually draws blood from Lachlan.
A well-timed punch followed by a body spin with the violently thrown point of Kade’s elbow stabbing into Lachlan’s jaw sends a spray of blood into the air and Lachlan loses balance, actually falls.
Kade has no time to crow about it, but the rush he feels inside is second to none.
Lachlan begins to improvise too, and his training is immaculate, but he’s also been inside for seven years whereas Kade has been training nonstop.
Even though it’s clear Lachlan doesn’t want to hurt Kade, that doesn’t mean he’s unharmed.
Lachlan lands a meteoric uppercut that Kade never saw coming and he bites his tongue so hard his mouth fills with blood, leaves him dizzy and disoriented on his knees.
Lachlan doesn’t back off, he uses it to pin him down, seems to know Kade is good with his legs because he ducks cleverly whenever Kade tries to wrap him.
Lachlan’s weight atop him feels both good and bad, a rushing river of conflict that has Kade’s heart pounding harder than it has…
maybe ever and he’s all too aware now of his people watching from the side, Luca watching from the side.
Lachlan hovers over him, strong hands around his wrists.
‘Now this,’ he whispers, lowering his voice into something dangerously intimate, ‘is when you’re in the most danger and at your most dangerous.’
‘Fuck you, you don’t know me.’
‘Because this,’ Lachlan goes on, unperturbed, ‘is when your ego starts to feel the bruises and you lash out. Then it’s always fifty-fifty win or lose.’ Kade is insanely hard beneath him, there’s no way Lachlan doesn’t feel it. ‘Do you remember what I taught you about this?’
‘I’m not who you think I am, so no!’
Kade struggles but trying to leg-wrap him has drained his energy briefly and the helplessness of momentary exhaustion is curling low in his guts, a fever-itch of irritated arousal blooming against his will.
It’s the worst and it’s the best, and if they were alone, something horribly misguided might happen.
‘Dig deep for me,’ Lachlan instructs. ‘What did I teach you about pride?’
It’s like a knife to the guts.
Pride goeth.
That’s what he’s waiting for. He knows it.
Never once has he said that out-loud. Not one time.
Kade spits in his face.