Where We Left Off - Romeo Alexander Page 0,11

all shapes and sizes awaited him as he walked into the space, looking around.

He earned a handful of glances as he entered, and a few that lingered. Tyler found himself smoothing the front of his shirt as he stepped down to the main floor, a little unsure of what he should do. He wasn’t exactly a virgin when it came to other men, but how to deal with their blatant interest? Hell no.

Choosing to ignore them, he walked to the bar and ordered himself a drink. The ink on his hand marked him as a minor, and he quickly ordered whatever fountain drink there was available. It was really just an excuse to have something in his hand, something to busy himself with.

“Want me to get that for you?” a man asked, leaning heavily on the bar to invade Tyler’s space.

“I think I can manage a couple of bucks for a drink,” Tyler told him.

The man snorted, pulling away to resume talking to the slim towhead he’d been in conversation with only a moment before. It was then Tyler realized the man’s offer hadn’t been out of altruism but something far more earthy.

Tyler considered his options, realized he wasn’t one for just randomly letting some guy lure him with a free soft drink, and shoved his shame at his own slowness aside. He sipped from the straw, pushing cash across the bar for the bartender to take. Once he was old enough to drink in earnest, or rather, legally, he supposed it would be his card.

A card funded by Clay of all people. A card he knew so little about where the funds came from, but Clay insisted it could be used for emergencies and fun alike without any fear or repercussions. The only stipulation was that Tyler didn’t try to bathe himself in too much, overindulging to the point that Clay would have to step in. Where that line was, Tyler had no idea, but it wasn’t one he was willing to risk even toeing until he was at least old enough to drink.

“Hey,” a voice said to his right as he slipped away from the bar.

Tyler turned in time for a hand to close around his wrist before he could get too far. Fear and adrenaline spiked through him as the stranger pulled him closer, but he remembered, memory bubbling up clear in his head.

In the great scheme of things, it would have made sense if the training had come from Elliot. Here was a man who had spent so many years with the Marines and then spent the rest of his adult life using that training to protect others under personal security detail. By any understanding, Elliot would have been the man to teach Tyler about how to defend himself.

But no, it had been Clay.

It hadn’t been that long after Tyler had found the two of them, reuniting with them and ultimately making them a part of his life for good. Without explanation, Clay had pulled him into one of the basement rooms of he and Elliot’s new home. It had been lined with pads, both on the floor and the walls.

“There are things you’ll need to know in this world. Hopefully, things you’ll never have to use, but I don’t live on what you should or shouldn’t have to do, because that’s how good men and women die too easily,” Clay had said as an explanation.

Just shy of sixteen, Tyler had watched him carefully. “Okay?”

Clay raised his arms, balling his hands into fists. “These are what people will tell you win fights. Hollywood will tell you it’s won with these and kicks, but both are a lie. Punches and kicks, if not done right, can leave you wide open, and an opponent with an ounce of sense or instinct will leave you wide open from a badly done punch or kick.”

Tyler watched him, nodding slowly. “Okay.”

Clay presented his elbows. “These are your best weapons. Hard, direct, and difficult to break from a blow.”

“Knees not fists,” Tyler dutifully recited.

“Feet are to be used for short-range, easy to recover from attacks. Think, attacking the knees or stomping on toes. But never more than that,” Clay continued.

“Right, quick, easy,” Tyler repeated, watching Clay carefully.

Clay reached out, taking hold of Tyler’s face. “I don’t know if you’ll always be this small, this scrawny. But never, and I mean never think that means you can’t fight someone who’s bigger than you. Smaller is not weaker, it just means at an immediate