Page 17 of Hardline Torque
Yellowing bruises bloomed across his ribs and shoulder, old and new overlapping in ugly patterns.The bandage low on his abdomen was stained dark at the edges, blood seeping through despite his best efforts.He pressed his fingers there gently, jaw tightening.
You should have let it heal, a voice in his head muttered that sounded suspiciously like Tane.
He snorted softly.Too late for that.
Victor dried off carefully, then eyed the t-shirt he had grabbed from the drawer.Clean.Soft.He hesitated, then shook his head.He wasn’t bleeding on someone else’s clothes.He tugged on the shorts instead and left the rest.
When he stepped back into the van, the smell of food hit him first—warm, rich, grounding.
Tane stood at the kitchenette, shoulders relaxed, knife moving rhythmically over a cutting board.A Maoli song played softly through a Bluetooth speaker, something with layered vocals and a low, steady beat.Tane hummed along under his breath, entirely unguarded.
He turned.
The look that crossed his face made Victor’s breath catch.
Interest—heated and unmistakable—flared for half a second before it vanished, replaced by something sharp and furious.
Victor took a reflexive step back.
Was he about to come out swinging?
“Fuck,” Tane muttered, already moving toward him.“I didn’t realize it was that bad.”
The anger wasn’t at Victor he realized, it was at the fact that he was hurt.
“I’m fine,” Victor said automatically.
Tane shot him a look that said he didn’t believe a word of that.“You’re not.”He softened his voice, reached for him without touching.“Sit down,ku?u aloha.I’ll take care of it.”
The endearment landed harder than it should have.My love.Said unconsciously, almost without thought as to what he was saying.
Victor nodded once and crossed to the table, choosing his seat carefully so the wound was on the outside, exposed.Old habit.Efficiency over comfort.
Tane moved around him, pulling a first aid kit from a drawer while talking like this was the most normal thing in the world.
“Dinner’s stew,” he said.“Root veg, beef.Something solid.”He cracked open a beer and slid it across the table.“Drink.”
Victor wrapped his fingers around the bottle, took a slow pull.Cold.Bitter.Good.
Tane dragged over a stool and sat, leaning over so that his eyes were level with Victor’s injury.He peeled the bandage back with practiced care.
“Shit,” he muttered, then reached for antiseptic.“Tell me how this happened.”
Victor hissed as the liquid burned.“The night I left here,” he said flatly.“The Directorate didn’t appreciate me retiring myself.They sent a welcoming committee to my motel room to try to get me to reconsider.”
Tane’s jaw tightened.“And you went back there because?”
Victor shrugged.“I wanted my gear.”
Tane slow blinked.“You risked death for gear?”
Another shrug.“I have cool gear.”
That earned him a look.“I know.”
Victor frowned.“How?”
Tane glanced up, eyes amused.“You think I didn’t notice you in that tree?Or what you were using?”
