Ruben chuckles, slapping Saint on the shoulder. “Let’s grab some shots and talk by the bar. I’m sure my guys can keep your woman entertained.”
Someone, pass me the puke bucket.
Saint pulls me into his arms, moving his mouth to my ear. “Stay close to Galen.” He swats me on the ass before letting me go, and it takes colossal willpower not to slap him back.
Galen instantly moves to my side, threading his fingers in mine and guiding me to the booth.
Theo takes Ruben’s vacated space on one side, at the end, beside three unfriendly assholes, and Caz slides in beside the bald bearded dude on the other side. A guy with long, greasy strawberry-blond hair sits on Baldy’s other side, ogling me shamelessly as Galen takes the last seat at the end, pulling me down on his lap.
“That sharing rumor is true, huh?” Baldy says, grinning as he passes the guys a beer. He’s got two gold crowns in place of his front teeth, and I briefly wonder if that’s by choice or someone knocked them the fuck out of his ugly head.
He doesn’t offer me a drink.
Chauvinistic asshole.
But Galen gives me his, and I’m pleasantly surprised he’s taking his designated driver duties seriously. I don’t think most gang members give a shit about driving drunk.
“We’re not in the habit of discussing our private lives,” Galen says, circling his arms around my waist.
“You’re that bitch from the video,” a guy with dark skin and dark hair says, smirking as if he’s recalling it scene by scene in his head.
“Watch your fucking mouth, and show some respect,” Theo says.
“Hoodrats don’t earn respect around here,” he replies, making a point of settling his gun down on top of the table.
“Harlow isn’t a fucking hoodrat. She’s our girl,” Caz barks. Galen stiffens behind me, and Theo shows no emotion.
“Isn’t she Lennox’s stepsister?” Baldy asks, glugging his beer.
“You guys gossip worse than girls,” I say, done with playing the silent, obedient type. “And I’m sitting right here. You don’t need to talk about me as if I’m invisible.”
“So, is it true, sweetheart?” Baldy asks. “You banging your stepbrother?”
“Every fucking chance I get.” I smirk, bringing the bottle to my lips as laughter erupts around the table.
Saint and Ruben interrupt their conversation at the bar to look in our direction, and I blow them a cheeky kiss.
“What about the rest of these assholes?” the dark-haired guy asks. “You banging them too?”
“A girl has to keep some of the mystery alive,” I tease, winking as I deflect answering his question.
The tension lifts a little after that, and the guys shoot the shit while things look intense over at the bar.
After a few minutes, I watch as Saint hands over the brown paper envelope with the gun and the bullets, and they get up, slapping each other on the back. I drain my beer, watching Saint stalk toward me. He grips my hips and lifts me off Galen’s lap, tucking me in under his arm.
“The Bulls won’t forget this, brother.” Ruben nods at Saint, and he returns the gesture. “Later, friends.”
We go back the way we came, and when we step into the elevator, I turn to face Saint. “What happened?”
“It’s handled. They will deal with Finn and Parker.”
I stretch up and put my mouth to his ear, unsure if there is a camera in here. “Do they know we blew up the meth house?”
He nods, tugging at his ear. “They don’t give a shit about that. Their involvement with McKenzie was on the sex trafficking side. His death has fucked stuff up with their contacts and jeopardized their supply.”
I’m even more grateful the douche is dead now.
We emerge on the dance floor, and one of my favorite songs is blaring from the speakers. “I want to dance,” I shout in Saint’s ear.
