Bullet leaves his chair, meeting me by the door. “Guess it’s you and me again, brother.”
Tank stops at the bottom of the stairs, his huge frame intercepting us both. “Hey, how is that club? Been meaning to check it out.”
“If you like lots of orgies and women who will drop some X into your mouth like a goddamn bird, then it’s right up your ally.” Bullet grins, slapping a hand on Tank’s back, but seeming unamused at the same time.
Tank rubs his beard. “Mmm. Maybe I’ll tag along. Just to make sure you two dipshits don’t get yourselves killed. Of course.”
Killed is a bit extreme.
“Of course.” Bullet shakes his head wearing a side grin. “Just don’t scare anyone away. Got it? We need to find our guy and you being a mammoth walking into a high-end club doesn’t send out the right stealth vibes.”
“Don’t worry about a thing. I’ll tone it down, Vice.”
“Right. Whatever. Let’s roll. I’ll drive.”
My phone vibrates inside my pocket and when I see Danika’s name flash on the screen, this weird feeling of excitement rolls through me.
Danika:I’m off tonight. Entertain me with your handsome face? We can watch a dumb romcom and sit on my uncomfortable couch with a huge bowl of popcorn.
One side of my mouth turns up and Bullet eyes me with raised brows. I guess seeing me almost smile is something foreign around here.
I’m pinned with disappointment when I remember I can’t see her tonight.
Me:Club business tonight. But rain check on the dumb romcom and popcorn?
Typing bubbles appear…
Danika:Is everything okay?
Me:Gotta head back to the night club to scope it out.
Thinking about what happened to Danika last time, makes me murderous.
Danika:What if you get hurt?
Knowing she worries about me, hits me like a brick, and doesn’t settle right.
Me:You worried about me, butterfly?
Danika:That obvious?
I smirk.
Me:I’ll be fine. I am our enforcer after all.
Crazy always wins.
With that, I pocket my phone and join my brothers in Bullet’s double wide truck.
So much for not sticking out like a sore thumb.
We pull up to the club, a line already out the door, and women hover close in their tiny dresses barely leaving room to the imagination. Not that I give a shit. The only woman who can draw my attention is…
leaning against her Toyota Camry at the curb in tight jeans and a crop top. Her body visibly trembling from here.
What the actual fuck?
“Hey, I might be seeing things but isn’t that your girl?” Tank stands, hands in pockets addressing the five-foot three woman across the way who waves sheepishly like she just caught doing something she isn’t supposed to do.
