Wildfire (Hidden Legacy #3)(33)

“No, you can’t. You spent all of your magic restraining Vincent. You shock him now, you’ll die too.”

Rogan swung the door open.

“Stay in the car.”

“Rogan!”

He jumped out.

Stay in the car, my foot.

I popped the door open, circled the car from the hood, and sighted Dave Madero with my gun.

“Her grandmother wants to speak to her.” Dave Madero sounded the way he looked, his voice deep and unhurried. “Your magic won’t work on me directly, Rogan. Nothing else here will do enough damage. Give the girl to me and we’ll go our separate ways.”

“No.”

“I get it. You don’t want to look bad. But I’m going to get her anyway and take her to her grandmother. She said to make sure she’s alive. She didn’t say in what shape and she didn’t say anything about you. Those things are up to me. You give me the girl, she won’t get roughed up.”

I really wanted to shoot him.

Rogan didn’t answer.

“Suit yourself.”

Madero’s skin bulged, turning a darker, flushed red. He started toward Rogan, slow and confident. Rogan watched him. He shouldn’t have gotten out of the car. He could do terrible things to a human body with his hands, but kicking or punching Dave would do no good. Rogan would just hurt himself. I would do anything to keep him from getting hurt.

The aegis behind him stepped forward, a gun in her hands. She was my age, red-haired, and her eyes were uncertain. She watched Rogan with apprehension.

I had to neutralize her. Rogan already had his hands full.

I sighted her and channeled my mother. “You shoot, I’ll kill you.”

“I’m an aegis.”

“I know. I never miss.”

She opened her mouth and closed it. I did my best to look like I meant business, because I did. She couldn’t shoot and maintain her shield at the same time. The moment that gun came up, I would fire and I would hit her to save Rogan.

“You can’t—” she began.

“Test me and you’ll find out.”

She stayed where she was, gun pointed to the ground.

Dave Madero rolled his shoulders and moved forward, circling. He was at least ten inches taller and probably twice as heavy as Rogan, who towered over me. Rogan’s body was corded with hard, flexible muscle, but next to Dave, he looked like a teenager who had yet to fill out.

Rogan moved too, with easy natural grace, focused on Dave. His whole body realigned itself, transforming him from a civilized man who had been driving a car just a minute ago into something else, something savage and almost feral. He moved toward Dave with a predatory anticipation. The hair on the back of my neck rose.

Dave must’ve realized he was being stalked and slowed.

“You sure you want to do this?” he asked. “It won’t be pretty. You think we’re gonna fight, you gonna punch, maybe throw some kicks. She’ll be impressed. It’s not gonna work like that. I don’t know what kind of training you have, but whatever it is, it’s not gonna be enough. This isn’t the dojo. We’re not gonna shake hands and bow. And your girl will be worse off when you lose.”

“Stop talking.” Rogan’s voice was iced over. “Show me.”

“Fine. Your funeral.”

Dave swung. It was a slow, wide right haymaker. Rogan leaned out of the way.

Dave threw a left. It fanned Rogan’s chest with plenty of space to spare.

“Slow,” Rogan said.

Dave rolled his eyes.

“Every generation you breed bigger, slower, and dumber,” Rogan said.

“Keep talking. We’ll see what kind of noises you’ll be making when I make you swallow your teeth.”

They moved in a circle.

Dave snapped a fast right hook. Rogan moved out of the way like his joints were fluid.

“When the other families want a big dumb thug, they call you and here you are. Any job, any time. Kidnapping. Pain. Theft by brute force. Brute is the key word. You’re a House of idiots.”

Dave locked his teeth. Rogan hit a nerve. He was pissing Madero off on purpose.

“Soon you’ll breed out what little brainpower you have.”

“Done?” Dave growled.

“Almost. Just wondering when you will start wearing leashes. This generation or the next?”

Dave hammered a shockingly fast jab. Rogan dodged by a hair.

Jab, jab, hard right.

Rogan kept moving. Dave was backing him into the Jeep. The aegis saw it and scurried to the side, keeping the gun ready.

Dave drove a long straight jab, but palm up, turning it into an uppercut. Rogan ducked. Dave unleashed an insane hard right. Somehow Rogan dodged and Dave’s fist hammered into the Jeep. Metal screeched. The hood buckled from the impact. Dave growled and shoved the Jeep back with his left hand. The vehicle rolled thirty yards back, all the way to the tree line.

Cold sweat drenched me. If Rogan took just one punch, even a glancing hit, it was all over.

“The fight’s right here,” Rogan said.

“You made me hurt my baby,” Dave said. “That’s extra. I’m gonna kill you for that.”

He wasn’t joking. He would actually kill Rogan.

Dave charged like an enraged bull. He pounded after Rogan, erupting in a whirlwind of punches.