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My father and brother suddenly appeared in the door behind him, and I nearly choked on the next breath.

“I… I fucking fell,” I managed, my voice contorted and nasally as I tried to brush past Pacman.

He offered no resistance.

My father’s eyes tightened and his scowl twisted a little, before my brother chirped, “Well, goddamn. Most intelligent motherfuckers try to catch themselves with an outstretched arm, not their fuckin’ nose. The hell were you thinking, dumbass?”

My father’s sharp clip of laughter deepened tremendously when my brother carried on, asking him loudly, “For real, though, how much money was it you gave them university clowns? And he ain’t even come home with common sense?”

They were brutal, but I knew if I told them what really happened, it would be worse. So, I shut my mouth and tried to run into as few people as possible on my way to the washroom.

Chapter Three

Suck for a Buck

Kingston

Pacman followed my brother inside, leaving me to shake my head.

“I thought he was gonna make shit easy for us, there for a minute.” The ol’ man grunted, before snubbing his cigarette out on the rail and exhaling his disgust in a long slow cloud.

“‘Easy?’” I snorted and shook my head, “If it is his idea to cuff her, he isn’t going to be keen on letting you call the shots–”

“He isn’t gonna let me do shit. I’m his fuckin’ father and the VP of this club. The sooner he understands that the better. I’m just saying, Roy has a… a bent compass you might say, and it doesn’t always point in the same direction as everybody else’s around here. He has too much of his mother in him.”

“So, knock the bitch out of him already.” I shrugged, tired of hearing about my half-brother.

I had been watching him prance around in a patch he didn’t fully represent since before he’d left for college. I’d stayed quiet about it, too, with everyone except our father. But he knew as well as I did, Roy never had what it took to be a Tainted Saint. He could straddle worlds and play dress up all he wanted to impress the campus crowd.

I knew who he was inside.

He’d been my little brother since the day our father mistakenly put him on a sidepiece, after all. Royal wasn’t just an embarrassment; he’d been a bitter source of contention between my parents for as long as I could remember.

Growing up, the only person whose vanity rivaled our father’s was my mother.

And Royal was the living, breathing proof that when it came to women, loyalty was a one-directional word in our world, even for the Queen of Tainted Sweethearts.

My father’s knuckles popped off my chest, and I snapped my gaze toward him.

“Hey, knock that shit off. Get out of your head and get that murderous look off your face. I told you already, you two are fuckin’ family. Never mind the noise. Alright? Focus. This is as serious as it’s ever gonna get. I need you boys. I need you both with me, if we’re gonna make this happen, you hear me?”

The tension relaxed in my jaw, and I cleared my throat and jerked my chin up.

“I need a drink… How long before Kal calls this shit? Fuck,” I rumbled, turning for the door.

I saw the little nod of approval he gave just before his hand caught the back of my shoulder with a brief pat. I had to force myself not to snort at the notion of him thinking I needed his validation. That shit might be necessary for Mom, and the guys, or even for Royal, but my world didn’t tremble under his displeasure the way everyone else’s did.

The blast of noise that greeted me when I opened the door made me groan as I rolled my neck and made my way down the back hall. I didn’t bother turning or weaving, I didn’t have to; people moved as I approached. Men nodded, an occasional “Brother,” was randomly mumbled as I brushed past a few. There were dozens of girls in the place tonight, but I still felt Rig’s attention anchor on me the minute I reached the bar.

She sauntered over and leaned so far across the counter I was given a glimpse of the cup of her bra, and a hint of color where her nipple threatened to poke out of it.

“Beer or bourbon?” she purred, drawing my gaze up to her pouty lips.

I snorted and was about to answer her when I saw Kennedy dash from the kitchen with a basket of cheese fries and a cold one.

“Whatever you get me, send her with it to the table.” I announced, with a nod toward Kennedy and a thump to the top of the bar.

Her face soured before the ol’ man could spit, “Make it a double, on the double.”