Chapter One
Kevlar
“How do you drink that shit?”
I burp and blow my breath at Graves.
“Fuck, man.” He gags and bends over. “I can fucking taste it. You’re dead as soon as I throw up.”
I chuckle and rinse out my glass. “Ladies dig the abs, brother.” I punch him in the gut, knocking all the air out of him as he wheezes. “Going to have to get in better shape if you’re going to attempt to kill me.”
“I could take you out anytime I want.”
I tap my jaw. “Come on. Give it your best shot.”
“Wouldn’t want to make you any uglier than you already are.”
“Whatever helps you sleep at night.”
He goes to take a bite of his banana, and I shove it further into his mouth.
He spits it out and charges at me as I laugh. “Fucking dickhead.” He shoves at me. “It’s too early for your stupid shit.”
I just laugh harder. He makes it too damn easy, and I know he won’t really do shit because he wouldn’t want to piss my sister off.
He waves me off, and I head out to the beach behind the clubhouse for my morning jog.
“Wait up.” Guts falls in step with me.
“Sure you can keep up, pipsqueak?”
“Like you said. Ladies love the abs.” He grins, and I give him a fist bump. The prospect is all right. I wasn’t sure about him at first, but the fuck face is growing on me.
“Right.” I pop my earbuds in, and rock ‘n roll jolts my system into gear. Nothing gets the blood pumping like some Crazy Train.
The sun is already beating on my back.
Sand kicks up against my calves as I start out at a slow jog, steadily increasing my pace. Gotta get out here early before all the fucking tourists crowd the shore.
The prospect is already falling behind, but to be fair, I do this at least four days a week. We get about half a mile down the strand when I see someone sprawled out on the sand near the shoreline.
Probably some dipshit who passed out drunk from the night before. Done the same myself plenty of times. I shove my earbuds in my pocket and approach, realizing it’s a woman with a gash on the side of her head. “Fuck.” I drop to my knees at her side and press my fingers to her neck. She’s got a pulse.
“She okay?” Guts asks as he catches up to me.
“She’s breathing. Get back to the clubhouse and tell the guys I need them to call Combat.”
“Is she wearing a wedding dress?”
“Fuck if I know. I gave you an order,” I growl at him and return to assessing her condition. The wound at the top of her head needs tending to. I rip the skirt of her dress and wrap the white fabric around her head. Prospect is right. Looks like she’s wearing a wedding gown. Her lips part and a low moan emitsfrom her. That’s a good sign. “I’ve got you,” I tell her, having no damn clue if she understands or can hear me.
Her gorgeous baby blues flutter open, and her lips tip into a beautiful smile. I can’t help but notice the spray of freckles peppering the bridge of her nose and cheeks. Bleeding and groggy, she’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on. “Are you an angel?” She brushes her slender hand across my wiry cheek, then passes out again.
Scooping her into my arms bridal style, I carry her back to the clubhouse.
“Did anyone call Combat?” I shout as I walk through the back entrance by the pool.
“He’s on his way,” Graves answers me.
