Page 93 of Pine River


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I snarled over my shoulder at Ramsay, “He’s not thinking clearly.”

Her eyes flashed. “Obviously.”

Jesus. I’m in the middle of a physical fight, and she’s sparking back at me, and I was liking it.

I had some sick obsession with her. It’s the only thing that made sense to me.

Trenton was struggling, and it was working. He was getting an arm free. When he did, well, the fight would be on.

“I need Alex or Cohen.”

Her eyes flared again. She raked a hand through her hair. “Trust me, you do not want Alex right now.”

Trenton growled, and another surge of energy reared through him. He got his arm free.

I shoved back, yelling at the same time, “Get Cohen then!”

A stampede of feet was coming.

People were shoving. Shouting.

Trenton took me in, those eyes clouded over with rage. His head was down, looking like a bull about to charge.

“Trent!”

That was Clint.

I shifted gears, preparing to take on two of the triplets.

“You got it wrong, Trent—”

He growled, “It’s Trenton! You don’t get my nickname. You had hands on her.”

“What?” came low, primal, and furious from Clint, now stepping into the cleared space.

Moving as one person, both triplets stepped toward me. Circling me.

I backed up, moves flashing through my head how to dismantle one so I could take on the other.

“He had hands on Ramsay,” Trenton said to Clint.

Wrong thing to say. Clint joined him in not thinking clearly.

The need to hurt was genetic.

I hit up against a counter and tried reasoning. “I’m not that guy.” They wanted to hurt someone who had hurt Ramsay. I got it. I did, but this was dangerous. “It wasn’t like that.”

“Yeah?” Clint taunted. “How was it then? I can’t think of any scenario where you should have hands on my cousin when she doesn’t want them.” He frowned suddenly, his head slightly turning to his brother. “They were fighting, right?”

“Oh yeah.”

Clint focused back on me, and there was the trouble maker. He thrived on it. I saw it then, had heard about it, but it was clear as day to me now. Ramsay had that same look on her face when I came into the kitchen.

She needed it like it was a release for her.

“Guys—”

A shout was heard from behind me, the door was shoved open, and I recognized Cohen rushing in. “What the fuck, guys?” He stopped right next to me, and I pushed off from the cupboard. I’d been planning on using the cupboard if it was two against one, but with Cohen wading in, different moves needed to be handled. I’d taught him how to use takedown moves so he could twist, get one of the triplets in a move, hold them until I got the other handled.

I didn’t want to hit them, but they were putting me in a situation where I’d have to. “Guys, it’s really not what you think it was.”

“I tried to shove him.” Ramsay was back, and she waded in, standing between her cousins and Cohen and me. Her chest was rising up and down rapidly. The back of her shirt was wet, down her spine. The darkness was gone from her, whatever that’d been, and she was scared. “Don’t do this. You got it wrong.”

Clint’s head reared back, his chin tipping up, and he took in a breath as if he were a wolf lifting his nose about to howl. When he lowered his head, his eyes were more clear. He was listening to her. Adjusting.

Some of her tension softened, just a little.

I moved to the side so I could see better.

She was waiting, eyes on Clint, who gave her a slight nod, and more tension left her.

She held up a hand, palm out toward Trenton, and she approached, her voice coming out softly. “He and I were having a verbal exchange. He said something that made me mad, and I moved to put hands on him. It was wrong. He caught me to defend himself. That’s what you saw. I swear.”

His eyes were still feral, and he wanted to swing on me. So bad.

He was thinking about it.

I readied myself. Clint wouldn’t jump in. I could handle Trenton in one move. He’d take a little nap, and then we’d deal with the fallout when he woke up.

“Trenton!” Ramsay snapped, standing at her fullest height. “I was in the wrong. Not him.”

He growled, “Those words don’t hold much weight, not after your last guy.”

Clint’s face snapped to his brother.

Ramsay’s entire body flinched.

I saw red. “You fuck—”

52

RAMSAY

Scout moved so fast.

He was by the cupboard one second, and he had an arm wrapped around Trenton and was lowering him to the floor the next. I screamed. Then screamed again because there was sudden movement behind me.

Thud.

“Fuck,” Clint rasped, grunting.

I turned. He and Cohen were locked in a battle.

Clint was trying to get to Trenton. Cohen was trying to hold him back.

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