Be My Brayshaw (Brayshaw High 4)
Captain moves, blocking me completely as his shoulders seem to bow, his length with them, and suddenly I’m locked in a cocoon of his shadow.
And then the shadow grows, and I turn in time to witness the solid unit standing tall and bold, but they’re only still for a split second.
Fists fly quick, but all I see are Captain’s.
He shifts with swift, clean movements, his back bending as he dodges a punch, an elbow flying to knock another asshole back while the one across from him creeps closer.
Captain’s fist flies out so quick, that by the time the guy realizes he’s been hit, Cap’s already pulled back, and has his right hand swinging around.
The crack of bone against metal seems to echo around us, blood droplets flying through the air and splatting on my sleeve as the guy’s head whips to the side, but Captain doesn’t allow him to simply fall. He catches him with a high knee on his way down and it’s lights out.
He goes for the next right as the table is jolted in front of me, Royce’s back hitting against its edge as he’s blindsided, but he uses the fall for momentum, bouncing back harder, quicker.
Raven curses at my side and panic spreads through me, my eyes flying to hers.
The table’s been shoved closer to where she stands, meaning the fight has too.
She quickly looks from the boys to me to her and a thick strain pulls over her, anger fused with so much more. She hates to walk away, but what’s hidden beneath her hoodie trumps everything else and it could get wild and bumpy quick.
I glance back at the scene, and to her.
She nods, keys scraping against the tabletop as she dashes by, and as if sensing her, Maddoc’s head snaps her way, following as she jumps inside the SUV.
It’s as if that flipped a switch, seeing her locked and safe.
His entire body grows lax, an eerie calm taking over, but before he can refocus on the fight, a right hook comes down across his jaw. Maddoc simply grins, spits blood from the corner of his mouth and gets right back in it.
I jump when a body lands on the table, my eyes popping up and meeting Royce’s.
They’re dark and empty. “Raven?”
“In the car. Watch out!” I shout.
Captain’s entire body shifts this way when I scream, and he catches the arm of the dickhead who tried to get Royce back with a chair of his own.
Captain blindly throws it over his head, yanking the guy in and headbutting him in the same second.
With his jaw clenched tight, he glares at me. “Get out of here.”
My eyes fly left at the guy attempting to stagger away, to leave his friends behind like a complete dick. So, instead of listening to Cap’s command, I flip the table over, tripping the guy and sending him right into Royce’s fist.
All at once, the boys inch closer to each other, the six across from them slowly wobbling to their feet, helping each other balance by sharing their weight.
“This is Brayshaw, motherfuckers,” Royce throws out as they allow them to hobble away.
Not another word or threats are needed—they know they don’t belong.
Then, as if nothing at all happened, Captain picks up the table as Royce grabs the chairs. Maddoc moves for the SUV to get his girl while Mac disappears inside the burger joint, and not five fucking seconds later ... up walks Jason Rowe, his girlfriend Tisha tight under his arm.
My muscles tense, and I chance a glance at Captain.
He takes his sweet time acknowledging their former teammate and his girlfriend.
There’s a new shift in the air, but it’s unlike the one that just took place, and you would never know by looking across the three.
These guys, they’re Brayshaw, and issues among their own are handled a lot differently.
Always the calmest bravado.
Talk about a test of endurance, they’ve still got blood on their knuckles.
“Damn Brayshaws,” Jason teases, having caught the entire fight. “You handed them their asses.”
“They knew it was coming,” Royce edges with a grin I’m not so sure Jason realizes is vindictive. “We know and see all, my man.”
Jason chuckles, making eye contact with Maddoc. “Almost didn’t believe you were back when Mac called on a game.”
“Only a fool would question our boy, ain’t that right, MacMoney.” Royce tips his head toward his friend, his thumb coming up to dab at the cut on his lip, giving a nice slow show of the busted and bloody ones that make up his fist.
“Yup,” Mac shouts from behind me somewhere, having come back outside.
Jason grins, but it’s forced, the arm around Tisha tightens as he bounces his shoulder. “So, Saturday, yeah?”
Captain nods, looking to Maddoc and Royce.
“Hell, yeah, bro.” Royce reaches out, knocking knuckles with him, but his chin has dropped low, and he watches him through his lashes. “Been too long since we knocked elbows.”