“I told you I got sick.”
“Sick and drugged are not the same,” he grits out.
She tilts her head and tilts her hand from side to side. “Kind of are. Both make you throw up. You get dizzy when you stand. You even require extra rest to get it out of your system.” She ticks her reasonings off on her fingers as she goes.
“I’m going to strangle you,” he mutters, rubbing the bridge of his nose.
Viv points at Tommy. “You hear that? He’s threatening me. I demand a new trainer.”
Tommy rolls his eyes and his head as he picks up his drink and sips at it. “Now, now, let’s not overreact.”
“Overreact? She was drugged!” Mack yells loud enough for a few tables of brothers to look over.
“And she’s fine, as you can see. Maybe you should be less concerned that your fighter was drugged and more so with the fact that she chose to keep it to herself.” He turns on Mack with an eyebrow raised. “MaybeIshould be more concerned about her lack of trust in you to let you know.”
“It wasn’t a trust thing.” Viv speaks up and pulls the attention away from Mack, who seems to have lost a bit of his anger at Tommy’s words. “I trust Mack with my life. Heknows that. I just didn’t see a need to share when nothing happened.” She holds her hand up to stop Mack before he can do anything more than open his mouth. “Like he said, there was nothing off with the fight. I wore the fluffy pink dress to match the theme and got the extra pay from the escort. Did the fight in heels—which, I’ve gotta say, I know we fight for basically any dollar amount, but if you keep having me do it in heels, I’m going to request that daily foot massages be added to my fitness routine.”
“Noted.” Tommy smirks with a dip of his chin.
“We did the handshake thing with the fans and got back in the limo. That’s when he handed me a closed water bottle. He insisted I should hydrate, and since it was sealed, I agreed. After a few sips, things went wackadoo, and the next thing I knew, he was trying to get his tongue down my throat and locate my boobs in all the fluff of the dress. Guy thought he was so smart, but more like a dumbass. You don’t drug a fighter. We don’t go down easy, and we always go swinging.”
I squeeze Viv’s hip and breathe through my nose to keep my temper at bay. Her words make me want to take the boat out, find the asshole who we dropped in the river, and beat the shit out of him some more. I don’t care that he’s already dead. He needs to suffer more, even in death.
Arms circle my neck, and she presses a kiss to my temple. “Relax, big guy.”
I take a deep breath, breathing in her scent, which is a mix of my shampoo and her uniqueness, and close my eyes for a second while I just hold her in my arms. She’s here, and that’s all that matters. No need to think about what would have happened if she didn’t fight back or if the guys and I weren’t there when she pushed him out of the limo. Thedriver said he wasn’t going to do anything, but what if he was? What if he saw an opportunity with her being drugged, and it could have gone worse? So many things could have happened, but her being in my arms is the best scenario and the one I need to focus on.
Opening my eyes, I see so many people staring at me. And smirking.
“What?” I glare but pull Viv closer so her side rests on my chest and her head can lean against mine.
“Nothing.” Lucky grins. He and Mickey somehow made it to our table, and I’m already annoyed by them.
“Get me another beer,” I order, and like the good brother he is, he does it. It helps that I’m the president. Even if it’s a temporary thing, the title has weight, and he and I both know that if he refuses even something as bullshit as this, it’ll tip the scales of power we have in this place off-kilter.
“Bottle with the top on,” I yell across the club, knowing damn well it’s the safest bet. He might play along, but I wouldn’t put it past him to mess with my beer to get back at me. Prospects get ordered around. Club brothers don’t unless they’re on the president’s shit list. And while Lucky can be annoying, he’s one of the best guys I’ve got around here. Might even be official officer material one day. Right now I just have him, Rooster, and Mickey in higher roles, but nothing on the books. Bane is also up there, though only for his experience with the club.
“How do you know Tommy?” Viv runs her fingers through my hair, pulling me back to her. The others seem occupied in their own conversation, but I know they can hearus.
Especially when Tommy answers her question for me. “My sister’s the old lady of one of the officers down south. I met Domino at the wedding.”
“Bikers have weddings?” She smirks, and I shake my head.
“Nah, we just toss our women over our shoulders and call them ours.” I jumble her on my knees as I bounce them and tickle her sides, making her squeal with laughter before she settles and I accept an unopened bottle of beer from Lucky.
“Thanks, man.” I cheers him as I twist off the top and take a drink before telling Viv the truth. “Some guys get married, some don’t. Same as everyone else. But his sister, Brooklyn, isn’t the type for the white wedding.”
“Much to our mother’s and older brothers’ wishes, I might add,” Tommy chuckles.
“So, if it wasn’t a wedding, then what was it?” she asks Tommy.
“More like a homecoming claiming thing. Bass, her old man, had just gotten back from watching me kick some major Russian mafia ass, and my sister decided she couldn’t find anyone better and said ‘you’re stuck with me.’”
I tilt my head. “I remember it differently.”
Tommy gives me a bored look. “Of course you do. But trust me, I know my twin. That’s what she meant, even if the words were mixed up.”
I shake my head. “No, not about the claiming. I think I recall the Hounds saving you East Coast mafia boys.”
