Broken Wings (Dark Legacy #1)(74)

I’d never asked Dante what had happened to Peter Topher, probably because I had a sneaking suspicion he was floating in a river somewhere. Some things were better not to know.

“We deal with things like that from now on,” Beck warned me. “Dante has been relieved of Riley Duty.”

I spun, glaring at him. “If you don’t want me to test my new skills on you, you better back up on the Dante thing. He’s my best friend. I won’t give him up. You’re just going to have to learn to play nice with him.”

The funniest thing was, Dante could have been in part of Delta. Hell, he’d wanted to be part of it before they’d dragged me into this life. I mean, he fit all the requirements of their inner circle, tough, tall, tatted, had a dick. But I knew they trusted no one else, so I had to ease the suggestion into a later conversation.

“Can we get back to kicking ass please?”

Beck grumbled but backed up, and Dylan resumed with instruction of how to perfect a groin kick. He showed me how to put the most speed and power into it, and I slammed my leg into the padded bag he held.

“You’ve got strong legs, Riley,” he said when we were done. “And with one of your arms weak at the moment, it’s the perfect weapon for you to use if you don’t have your gun.”

I nodded while pushing back a few strands of hair that got loose. Dylan moved closer to me in a single smooth stride, and suddenly his arms were around me, and he was holding me tight, but not too tight to hurt my ribs. “Next we’ll deal with an attacker that grabs you.”

I gasped at the long firm lines of his body, forgetting for a moment this was supposed to be an attack. “Dylan,” Beck said, that one word held so much warning, that my stomach clenched. There was the scary Beck.

Dylan wasn’t worried though, and I thought I felt his body shake a little as amusement creased his face. “Just self-defense, brother.”

I edged out from Dylan’s hold and met Beck’s gaze. Fuck. Dark storm clouds filled his eyes, and his jaw was locked in place, arms rigid at his sides. Dylan leaned down, his voice brushing over my bare skin near my throat. “This is interesting,” he murmured. “Beck and I have never thrown down over a chick. Wanna push him a little?”

I shook my head quickly. “No,” I spluttered, louder than he’d been. “Definitely not. He’ll kill us.”

Dylan was for sure laughing now. “Come on, babe. I finally found Beck’s weakness. Might as well take advantage.”

“No,” I said more firmly, and he winked.

“Whatever you say, Riles.”

I tried to pull away, but he held me tightly, and suddenly this wasn’t fun anymore. “An attacker is not just going to let you go,” he said, his voice low and rumbly. “You’re going to have to make them let go.”

“How?” I asked, unable to move an inch in his firm grasp.

Dylan started to pull me across the workout space. “What would you do if someone started dragging you away like this?”

I blinked. “Uh, that hand punch thing?”

He nodded. “I want you to use everything I showed you, and when I pull you, don’t try and go the other way. Come at me with force. Knee kicks, swing your arm, push back at me in the direction I’m trying to take you.”

His words from before about firing Beck up appeared to be forgotten as we focused on this new maneuver, and it was some time before Dylan was satisfied with my counter attack.

Then he took me to the ground, and I hit with a thump, all air leaving my lungs as his heavy form landed on me. He instantly absorbed some of his weight onto his forearms that were braced either side of my head, but it had still hurt like a bitch. “Ground attacks are another thing completely,” he whispered, his eyes twinkling at me.

That lasted a fraction of a second, though, before he was hauled right off me, and a pissed off Beck was looming over both of us. “Enough,” he said. “You’re only teaching her basic moves. I can fucking do that.”

Dylan, looking slightly pissed himself, jumped to his feet. “You were the one who wanted me to do it because you’re more interested in fucking Riley than in teaching her.”

Beck growled, like his freakin’ chest rumbled, and he swung at Dylan before I could blink. The pair clashed, and I scrambled back out of the space they were occupying.

“What the hell are you doing?” I screamed, on my feet and trying to figure out how to get between them. Only there was no fucking way. I hadn’t been kidding when I said one punch from Dylan would kill me. One punch from either of them.

“Beck!” I demanded, getting closer than I should have.

He ignored me. Both of them ignored me, and I had a sneaking suspicion they were enjoying beating the shit out of each other.

Fuck this. I spun around and started marching from the room. I didn’t have my phone on me, but I’d memorized Eddy’s number in case of emergencies. Something Dante had always drilled into me. I found a landline at Beck’s, and I called Eddy.

“Uh, hello?” she said, sounding unsure.

“Hey, girl, it’s me,” I said quickly. Can you get me from the front of Beck’s place?”

I heard shuffling as she moved, and then: “Yep, be there in five.”

“Riley!” Beck shouted. Knowing he was coming for me, and that he was pissed, I sprinted for the front door, grabbing a heavy woolen coat from the stand near the door and made it outside in a flash. My cart was sitting there and I jumped on it, gunning it out of there. Despite my stolen coat, I was fucking freezing, but not enough to send me back into that pissing match.