Growling, grunting, and punching. Taking painful blows, landing harder ones. Lunging forward, retreating. Hawk had more muscles and hit harder. Gabe’s talent for tactics evened the playing field.

“Noooo.”

At the high-pitched scream, Hawk backpedaled to check for a new attack.

Aric ran between them and shoved at Gabe. “You hurt him. You’re bad.”

“I… No, Aric, we’re just having fun. We fight like this all”—Gabe’s expression turned to dismay—“Hell, bro, you’re bleeding.”

Hawk glanced down. The left sleeve of his pale blue and gray shirt was now dark red. Blocking Gabe’s punches must have ripped open the stitches. “Yep.”

Hawk went down on his haunches. “Kid, c’mere.”

Aric’s face was dead white.

Shit. Can I mess this up any more? “Aric, I had a…cut, and when we were play-fighting, it pulled the…scab…off.”

Behind Aric, Gabe shook his head.

Bullshitting wasn’t exactly in Hawk’s skill set. He ruffled Aric’s hair. “I better put a new Band-Aid on it, huh?”

The kid nodded.

Thank fuck.

Gabe went down on one knee to get to Aric’s height. “Bull, Caz, Hawk, and me—we’ve been fighting like this since we were only a few years older than you. When Frankie gets upset, she yells, right? When we get upset, we throw punches, only we never fight too hard. Not so anyone gets hurt bad. If I’d known Hawk had a…an ouchy”—Gabe glared at Hawk for a second—“I wouldn’t have let him fight.”

Hawk snorted. “Like you could stop me, cop.”

At the retort, Aric blinked, and a tentative smile appeared.

“Get your ass to bed before your mama yells at us.” After a quick hug with his good arm, Hawk pointed at the kid’s chest, then at Bull’s house.

The boy ran off—toward Mako’s house.

Gabe sighed and rose.

“They’re staying in the sarge’s place?” Hawk accepted Gabe’s hand up.

“Yeah. She wanted to get a place in town, and I wouldn’t let her.” Gabe shook his head. “I know you don’t like people in Mako’s house, but, hell, Hawk, Nabera is still out there.”

The thought of the PZs getting their hands on Kit was intolerable. “You did right.”

“Huh.” Gabe turned and yelled, “Hey, Doc.”

At the grill, wire brush in hand, Caz turned. His eyes narrowed, then he tossed the brush onto the table and jogged over.

“’Mano, what did you do?” He pointed toward his house. “Let’s go.”

Hawk shot Gabe a disgusted look. “I can sew myself back up.”

Gabe smirked. “Now you won’t have to.” Annoyingly, the bastard followed them onto the deck.

“Sleeve up. Sit.” Caz disappeared into his house.

Hawk obeyed. No one argued when Caz was in medic mode.

Inside the house, JJ’s voice was audible. “Sounds like the boys are done with their games, Regan.”