“I believe my future brother-in-law told you to back off,” Amy says, voice sweet as honey.
Hope's hand flies to her mouth, but I catch the glint in her eyes. She's not horrified. No, she's trying not to laugh.
That's my girl.
Vegas pushes through the crowd, his VP, Casino, right behind him. The Saints Outlaws president takes one look at the situation: the girl on the ground, Amy with her bat, and me standing there with my beer. I watch as understanding flickers across his face.
“You got what you deserved, Cherry,” Vegas says to the club girl, voice flat and final. “I told you Frost was unavailable. Also know he must’ve told you himself that he's getting married.” I nod. “You don't respect that, you don't respect this club.”
“She's fucking psychotic!” Cherry spits, still clutching her knee. “She assaulted me!”
“Nah.” Vegas crosses his arms. “You assaulted his boundaries. She just made sure you understood the message.”
Casino snorts, and a few of the brothers start chuckling. The tension breaks like a snapped rubber band.
“Bubbles, get her out of here,” Vegas orders.
Another club girl, who must be Bubbles, hurries over and helps Cherry to her feet. They hobble toward the exit, all the while, Cherry’s eyes shoot daggers at us as she’s led away. Amy just waves her bat.
The door slams shut, and Vegas claps his hands once. “Alright, show's over. Let's party!”
The music seems to swell back to full volume, conversations resume, and just like that, the clubhouse returns to life. Brothers go back to their drinks, ladies go back to dancing, and the whole thing becomes just another story that'll get told over beers.
I cross the room to Hope with Amy at my heels. Hope's trying to look stern, but she's failing miserably.
“You promised not to assault anyone,” Hope says to Amy.
Amy shrugs. “I promised not to assault anyoneat the spa. This is an MC party. Different rules apply.”
“I can’t believe you smuggled Lil’ John with you this weekend,” Hope chastises.
“You said I couldn’t bring Big Lil’,” Amy huffs. “You didn’t say anything about Lil’ John.”
Hope pinches the bridge of her nose. “Amy, when I say you can’t bring Big Lil’, just know I meanany and allbats or weapons are off-limits.”
Amy crosses her arms. “It was Chaos’ idea. Why am I the one being scolded?”
I narrow my gaze toward the culprit. “Chaos, what the fuck?”
Chaos snaps his head in our direction, shrugs, and makes his way over.
I slide my arm around Hope's waist and pull her close, pressing a kiss to her temple. The whiteBRIDEsash glitters across her chest, and I'm grateful as hell Amy thought of it. Not that I need a sign to know Hope's mine, but it doesn't hurt to make it crystal clear. Now that I think about it, maybe men need a sign, too.
“Your best friend's insane,” I murmur against Hope's ear.
“Your best friend gave her the idea to bring Lil’ John,” Hope counters.
Fair point. Chaos appears at my shoulder with fresh beers, grinning like the devil himself.
“That was beautiful,” he says to Amy. “Absolutely beautiful.”
Amy accepts the beer with a mock bow. “I live to serve.”
Vegas approaches. “Congratulations on the wedding, brother. And on having a woman with friends who've got her back.”
I shake his hand firmly. “Appreciate the hospitality.” I swing my eyes to Amy. “Sorry for the… disturbance.”
“What’s an MC party without a little violence?” Vegas wags his brow at her.
