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But I think I came off best.

Objectively.

I know it’s true because I’m sitting here drinking a beer and he left holding his nose with blood pouring between his fingers.

Ridge is sprawled on one of the chairs outside the clubhouse, one boot resting on the edge of the fire pit, looking unaffected by the fact that less than three hours ago, he threw a human being into a swamp too.

Not metaphorically.

When Bennett dared to yell at his man for allowing Vandal to toss him into the swamp, Ridge snuck around behind Bennett, picked him up, then threw him in.

I debated keeping this fact from Della, but I feel the need to tell her, in case it’s knocked any of her sensors out, or in case someone’s shampoo getting into the water supply will mess with her readings.

I start to laugh. “Can’t believe you made that cunt go airborne.”

Ridge lifts his beer. “I put him in flight mode.”

North chuckles from his spot by the water, and I start laughing again, which is a mistake because my ribs immediately remind me there are consequences for my joy.

“Fuck,” I wince, pressing a palm against my side.

Steffi and a group of club girls start to wander out onto the dock. Must have heard we were back.

“Any of you boys need me to kiss a boo-boo?” she asks.

Havoc pats the sofa next to him. “You can come sit next to me.”

Millie looks around and sees the seat next to me is free. She perches her ass and turns to face me. “Want me to hold that ice pack for you?”

I shake my head. “I’m good.”

She leans closer. “Want me to hold something else for you?”

Fiona, her long, red hair dangling over my shoulder, leans over the back of the sofa I’m sitting on. “I could help her.”

I shake my head. “Can the two of you just leave me alone?”

Lock chuckles. “Two for the price of one seems like a good deal, Sunny.”

“Not when the one you’re comparing them to is Della.” I look at Millie. “You might not respect my girlfriend, but I do. So, respectfully, fuck off.”

“Things really that serious?” Lock asks.

Irritation bubbles. “Yeah. It is. Not sure why that’s hard to believe.”

Lock raises his hands in surrender. “Was just asking. I like Della. She’s good people.”

I relax, a little, at that. If my ribs weren’t aching like a fiend, I’d be tempted to get on my bike and go see her.

Knox sits patiently while Reaper applies some steri-strips to the wound on Knox’s forehead that won’t stop bleeding. “If Maren asks, I was moving some shit around in the garage and some wood fell on me.”

Lock shakes his head. “‘Tis a terrible web we weave when we practice to deceive, Prez.”

Knox flips the bird in his direction. “Sunny, let him take a look at those ribs.”

I shake my head. “Just a solid punch, but I can breathe and walk and shit. Bruised, at best.”

Reaper rolls his eyes. “Puncture a lung, see if I care.”