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He’s still an annoying prick, that’s for sure. I just ignore him, though. If he’s trying to get a rise out of me for the sake of the reporters, he’s going to have to work a hell of a lot harder.
“You were right,” I whisper in Luna’s ear. “About Garth’s money issues. I think I just figured out what he’s up to.”
She glances at me, her brows knitted in confusion.
“Gambling,” I murmur.
She blinks as if she didn’t hear me right. “Oh.”
“Yeah.” I shrug. “But it doesn’t matter. I’ll do what I do, nothing more, nothing less.”
“Be careful,” she whispers, putting a hand on the side of my face. “People who gamble will often do anything to keep from losing.”
“Don’t worry about me.”
“I’ll always worry.”
That makes me smile. “And I appreciate it.”
She and Metal move to the side as I get into line. Grim is just a few feet away, arms crossed over his chest as he watches everything going on. Bronco is still running his mouth, talking about his ranch in Texas, some club he went to last night, and of course, how he’s going to kick my ass in the cage tonight.
He steps on the scale and then makes a fist as he flexes his biceps. “That’s what I’m talkin’ about!”
Then it’s my turn.
I step on the scale and there are no surprises with the number that pops up—my growling stomach can attest to that. But this isn’t my first rodeo.
“Made it, big guy?” Bronco calls out, laughing. “I mean, no surprise, right? We know who the heavyweight is in your house? Am I right?” He looks right at Luna.
A ripple of laughter goes through the room, but all I hear is the roaring in my ears.
“What did you say, asshole?” I step toward him.
“I bet there’s no pussy-eating for you—you’d suffocate.”
This fucker has a death wish.
And the best part for me is that we’re not in the cage. That means I don’t have to follow any rules, so without even looking at him, I pull back my fist and sucker punch him hard enough to knock him on his ass. He goes down and Grim is instantly at my side, pulling me back, murmuring something about how this isn’t the time or the place.
Fuck that.
No one will ever talk about my woman like that.
“Say something else,” I growl, standing over Bronco.
He looks up at me and laughs, even as blood trickles from the cut on his lip.
“Whassamatter? Did I hit a nerve?”
Cameras are rolling, people are taking pictures, and I’m sure my face will be all over the internet tomorrow, but I seriously could not care less.
“Go on—what else you have to say?” I snap, grabbing him by the throat as he lumbers back to his feet. He knocks my arms away and glares.
“I can say anything the fuck I want.”
“Yeah—if you want me to knock you into the middle of next week.”
We’re standing chest to chest and the media is eating this up.
