Page 58 of Dark Wolf Soul
Dutch answers for him. “Mia, Ramsey, Razor, and Crow. Aka the squad.”
Mia. The girl from the other night who we handed Claire off to. Razor and Crow I know already, not that we’ve actually conversed, but Ramsey’s a new one. Before I can ask what Dutch means by “the squad,” car doors begin to slam shut, and the newcomers all round the corner of the house, headed this way.
Razor is at the front with Grey. They speak in low tones that are impossible to make out from this far away. Behind him, Crow walks alone, his head down, his hands stuffed into his hoodie pockets. Mia, the redhead, brings up the rear. She walks beside a guy I’ve never seen before with thick, muscled arms and short, cropped hair that gleams golden in the sunlight. His face is mostly hidden behind Aviator sunglasses, but his lips are fixed in a smirk that suggests he knows a secret.
Ramsey, I presume.
When they reach the circle of chairs where Dutch and I wait, Grey steps back to let them pass. Razor peels off toward the house, saying something about refreshments. Crow slides into the circle and takes a seat beside Dutch, slouching in his chair and pulling the hood up on his sweatshirt. Dark eyes peer back at me from beneath his head before he looks down again.
“Bro, epic fireworks earlier,” Dutch tells him with a soft punch on the arm.
Crow snorts.
“Double Dutch,” Mia greets, smacking the back of his head as she passes.
Dutch ducks and scowls at her, but she ignores him as she winds around the circle toward me. She perches on the edge of the chair on my right and offers her hand.
“Hi, we didn’t get a chance for introductions the other night. Mia Reyes.”
I shake her hand. “Lexi Ryall.”
“Glad to have you with us,” she says.
I don’t bother pointing out I’m not really with them. Her gaze flicks to something over my shoulder, and I turn to see the golden-haired stranger coming up on my left.
“Well, hello there,” he says, holding out his hand and smiling wide to reveal two rows of perfectly straight, white teeth set against tanned skin. He peels the glasses off his face long enough to flash me with green eyes that glimmer. He’s handsome, though his charm says he knows it.
“I’m Ramsey Greco. Son of the second general, though I hope to be first in your heart.”
Mia groans and shakes her head.
“Lexi,” I say as I tentatively place my hand in his and attempt to shake.
He immediately brings my hand to his lips but stops, my hand hovering just below his mouth when Mia says, “Ram, what did we talk about?”
Her tone reminds me of a schoolteacher with a toddler, and Ramsey drops my hand with a guilty moan. “Ugh. But this—”
“What did I say?” Mia cuts in sharply.
“No douchebaggery before three p.m.,” he recites.
“Exactly.” Mia gives him a prim smile and winks at me.
I take my hand back, not sure what to think of them. If they’re a couple, they have very relaxed boundaries.
Grey clears his throat, and all the attention shifts from me to where he stands at the mouth of the circle, arms crossed.
“Good to see you, boss,” Ramsey says, settling back in his own chair on my left.
“Funny considering you weren’t invited,” Grey tells him darkly.
“Damn. Rude,” Ramsey mutters, looking wounded.
Grey’s expression only hardens. “Say what you came to say so we can move on from this.
“Refreshments, anyone?” Razor returns, sliding past Grey, who remains immovable. Clutched in his arms is a half-full bottle of expensive whiskey and a few cans of beer. A bag of chips dangles precariously from his fingers.
“Right here,” Dutch says, taking the bottle and uncapping it.
