Page 76 of My Broken Bodyguard 2: Ritchie & Tori

“You probably felt like a big man shooting us while watching the bullets strike our bodies. You better believe we enjoy carving your ass up,” I bit out.

Ezra and I stepped back, staring at our handy work. There was only one thing left to do.

I picked up the bloody machete Catch used. And I whacked the side of Daryl’s neck. The machete slid through his flesh. His head hit the floor and rolled a few feet away.

It was finally over.

We stuffed their remains into heavy-duty black plastic bags before heading out on Catch’s rented yacht. Romeo steered us towards the center of Lake Michigan.

Daryl, his boyfriend, and Rosco’s body parts were scattered throughout the lake. We had tied them up with chains and cinder blocks to ensure they would stay submerged at the bottom.

Catch chuckled, bringing me back from my thoughts. “That was fucking epic last night.”

We arrived at the club, then settled in one of the four V.I.P sections. The guys sat on the long blue leather C shaped sofa surrounding a large blue table filled with liquor. The base of the music shook the floor.

Catch finally removed his sunglasses and placed them in his inner jacket pocket before pouring himself a glass of whiskey.

I stepped to the banister overlooking the entire downstairs. We had a perfect view of the dance floor.

The girls hadn’t arrived yet. They were at the casino. I ordered Brock to keep me up to date on how Tori was handling the Bachelorette party.

So far, so good.

“Let’s get some fucking bottles popping over here,” Romeo shouted over the music.

I turned from the crowd and returned to my friends. It was always hard to remove the bodyguard hat. While I stood at the banister I counted the exits, how many of their security team walked along the main floor, and how many people were dealing pills out in the open.

The topic of conversation shifted to Catch’s upcoming bachelor party.

Later on, I would be the entertainment for Tori as I gave her a special striptease before making love to her with unrestrained passion.

Romeo glanced at the name tag of our server. “Rainy, could you bring us five bottles of your best champagne?”

“Correction, make that four,” Romeo clarified.

Ezra’s brows lifted. “You’re not drinking?” he asked.

“I am. I’ll share a bottle with Catch. He won’t drink that much. He’ll be too busy obsessing over his fiancée.”

“That’s pretty rich coming from you, Ritchie. Doesn’t Brock keep tabs on your woman?” my cousin jested.

“I don’t see anything wrong with that. Every man at this table would do the same for their woman,” I retorted.

“It’s true. I even put a tracker in Simone’s purse,” Ezra admitted before taking a sip of his whiskey.

Romeo pointed at Rémy. “And he put a tracker on the bottom of Asia’s shoe. Now we can check our phones and know exactly where she is.”

I shook my head, then looked over at Catch. “See?”

The server brought over the bottles of champagne and asked, “Can I get you fellas, anything else?”

“Not at the moment,” I replied.

She smiled. “Just holler if you need anything, guys.”

I grabbed one of the bottles and stood. “Gentlemen, grab a glass.”

A smirk spread across my lips as I continued, “We’re here in Vegas to celebrate Catch tying the knot tomorrow.” With a pop, I opened the champagne bottle.

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