Groaning, I rolled over and sighed. “What the fuck are you guys doing here?”
“My sister let us in.”
And just like that, I shot right up in bed. Looking around the room, I couldn’t find C.C. anywhere. Instead, I stared into the eyes of her brother, Romeo. At his back was Tank, who glared menacingly at me. And if that wasn’t enough, all of the Bourbon Kings smiled as if this were nothing new to them.
“Tell me, Trip,” Romeo asked, cleaning his nails with a bowie knife. “Did my sister accept your claim before or after you defiled her innocence?”
Gator coughed as Braveheart pounded on his back. “You okay, boss?”
Waving the big guy off, Gator glared at Romeo. “Innocence? Really?”
Romeo shrugged. “What? She’s my baby sister. She’s innocent as the driven snow until there’s a ring on her finger.”Then the fucker leaned forward and sneered, “There better be a fucking ring, asshole.”
I gulped.
Tank cracked his knuckles, the sound echoing ominously in the room. “Romeo, can we just cut to the chase?” he rumbled, his voice as deep as a thundercloud. “You’ve got questions, and I’m guessing Trip here doesn’t have many answers you’re gonna like.”
I raised my hands defensively, trying to muster some semblance of calm despite the sweat trickling down my back. “Look, she’s not a kid. C.C. made her own choice. I—”
Gator groaned. “I wouldn’t finish that sentence, Trip. I promised King you’d be semi-whole when we brought you back.”
“Back from where?”
Donut grinned. “We’re goin’ fishin’!”
An hour later, I walked toward to the water’s edge, then looked back at the men sitting in lawn chairs, halfway to a full-blown drunken bender. I should have known that going anywhere with the Bourbon Kings was a gamble.
Fuckers never took anything seriously.
“Are you sure this shit is legal?” I asked, then added, “’Cause King’s gonna have my ass if I get arrested.”
“Thore’s real friendly with the game warden,” Donut shouted as he popped open his can of beer before reaching into a brown paper bag and retrieving a beignet. “Yer all good!”
“Who’s got the poles?” I asked.
“Don’t need a damn pole.” Tank glared, daring me to disagree with him. “Unless you’re plannin’ to use your dick!”
The fuckers laughed.
“I wouldn’t suggest that, little fella.” Braveheart smirked. “Gator tried that once and, well, the fish loved his bling. Took us damn near an hour to get that cocksucker off his dick.”
“Still haven’t found that one piercing, yet,” Worm said, never looking up from the book he was reading.
Gator growled, “Just stick your damn hand in the hole and pull the fucker out.”
I eyed the murky water, unsure if I wanted to wade in.
The thought of sticking my hand into some dark hole to pull out a fucking fish wasn’t my idea of a good time. I knew what these fuckers were doing. They wanted to see if I was strong enough to handle C.C. Well, I had a newsflash for them. I wasn’t, but they didn’t need to know that shit. No one could handle Slick and walk away unscathed, let alone me. Still, I refused to back away from this challenge.
I liked living on the wild side of life.
A little noodling couldn’t be that bad.
What could go wrong?
I crouched by the edge of the water, rolling my sleeves up past my elbows. The guys watched me like vultures circling a wounded animal, their smirks lighting up the murky dusk. Braveheart leaned on a battered log, chewing on a blade of grass, his eyes daring me to back out. Tank cracked open another beer, the hiss of carbonation sounding like a countdown.
“You just gonna sit there?” Gator barked, his voice sharp enough to cut through the humid air. “We ain’t got all day, Trip.”
