Page 207 of Tangled Like Us
Banks switches radio frequencies and speaks to them in comms.
Maximoff starts to run up the slick, muddy hill, and Farrow drops his trauma bag. Catching up to his fiancé’s side. It’s not an easy climb. They slide.
When the white ranger slams a left hook into Xander’s jaw, Maximoff digs in harder and yells, “XANDER!”
Banks goes to help.
My muscles flex, and Jane can feel my shoulders contracting as she holds on to them.
I’m not planning to join. Neither is Charlie or Oscar. Our clients are here. We stay here. We stand near, but far enough from the foot of the hill that our view of Xander isn’t obstructed.
“Put me down,” Jane says instantly, hurriedly. “Go,go—I’ll stay with Charlie.”
“No. I’m not leaving your side.” My voice is concrete. In my head, there is no other option. And even if there were, this is what I want. Her detail.
Her.
I trust my brother. I trust Farrow and even Maximoff to get the job done.
Suddenly, part of the audience breaks off, mostly drunk frat-bro-looking shitbags dressed asVikings,and they slide down the hill. Grinning, aiming for Farrow and Maximoff, the Winter Soldier and Captain America.
Being a bodyguard for so long, I sense what’s about to happen. The Vikings want to push our men down. Just to prolong the entertainment at the top of the hill.
Oscar and I exchange a severe look. They’re not making it to Xander. And the temps aren’t moving a muscle, which means the extra guards are listening to another order.
Tony, I’m guessing.
I’m about to tell Oscar to go and I’ll watch Charlie. But he beats me to speak. “You go, Moretti. You’re taller.” Oscar is over six feet, but I assume he thinks my longer limbs will help me climb up the fucking hill faster.
Probably because Banks was high up, almost to the top. But he changes course to protect Maximoff and Farrow.
Jane looks panicked at the scene. “Go,go.” She taps my shoulder.
“Listen to my sister,” Charlie says, shooting me a harsher look.
I glance at Oscar, and he nods to me, “I have her.”I trust him.Instantly. I move into action. Carefully setting Jane onto her feet, and she hangs on to Charlie’s arm.
Fear strikes her eyes. She pushes me towards the hill. “Thatcher.” Her empathy for her best friend takes over.
A Viking charges Maximoff, about to shove him, and Farrow intervenes fast. He cold-cocks the Viking hard. Lights out instantly, and the rest erupt on both of them.
I run.
Maximoff is brawling his way through these shitbags, and Farrow is swifter, more trained. Nailing one with an uppercut to the jaw. Banks keeps about three from storming in on them, putting a guy in a headlock, and I ascend another part of the hill.
Clear of Viking targets.
I’m not able to check back on Jane. I place all my trust in Oscar. Sounds of cheering escalate the higher I climb, my boots muddying.
I’ve been in harsher terrain. Under harsher conditions. But I wouldn’t call this a cakewalk by any fucking means.
My pulse pounds in my temple. The DJ plays “I Put a Spell On You” on full blast, the bass shaking the ground.
I dig my foot into mud, and with one last shove up, I reach the graveyard. Seeing over every head, I have an eye on Xander.
He almost trips backwards into a fake headstone, dodging a jab to the nose. Blood already gushes down his mouth and chin.
I don’t waste a second. “Break up!” I yell, storming toward the fistfight in the center of the graveyard. No one tries to restrain me here. They see my imposing height and build, domineering stance, and lethal glare—and they part instantly.
