Page 45 of Vegas Daddies

“Likewise,” says Lifesaver.

Likewise.

My second stifled laugh fails and comes out as a sort of snort.

Peter directs his gaze to me. Then to Brander.

I mutter an apology, and Peter’s eyes continue to swap between me and Brandy. I know exactly what he’s thinking. Black leather biker jackets are worn by individuals who either wish they belonged to an MC club, or by those who are already part of such organizations. Peter’s loyalty to Lifesaver is the only reason he didn’t add Venom Vultures to his televised speech.

Peter sets his eyes and stares at us. The upturned lip is evidence enough to suggest his disgust in us. He despises what we do. We do things that are against the law, and Peter, according to Lifey, has always stayed on the right side of it. He went through his entire school life without receiving discipline, so his people-pleasing tendencies make sense—the speech just makes people adore him even more.

But boasting about new campaign ideas is what’s gonna get him killed.

In theory, a whistleblower could expose his friendship connection with Lifesaver and cancel his entire career in a second. Keeping his mouth shut and pushing us under the rug means he’s always walking on thin ice, but he does it out of love for their friendship.

“What are you two doing here, then?” His eyes flicker between us both.

“I called them,” says Lifesaver.

Peter twirls back around. “Why?”

Lifey clears his throat as if to buy himself some more time. “To keep a lookout. See if they could catch the attacker.”

“There’s security.”

“True,” Brander says. “But I also thought I’d come to check out the surveillance cameras. See if there’s anything on there.”

“And is there?”

“I haven’t looked yet.”

Jesus Christ. I’ve never seen terror consume Brander’s face like this before. Yes, Peter is the mayor of Vegas and Alice’s father, but there’s more bone on the guy than muscle. One strike with the hot iron rod would split the man into two.

But I gather it’s more complicated than that. Less about physical advantages, and more about dynamics. Peter is the father of a girl that Brander clearly has feelings for. Fights and hot iron rods are out of the equation. If me and Brander lay as much as one wrong finger on Peter, Alice would cut us off and Lifesaver would be injecting fucking propofol into our veins for fisting his buddy.

Things are too complicated.

And God doesn’t even know what Peter would do if he ever found out that all three of us married his daughter, tattooed our names onto her ass cheek,andslept with her in Lifesaver’s office.

Probably add us into his campaign, if Vlad hasn’t killed him by that point.

Peter’s connection to Alice means that Brander and I also have reason to involve ourselves in the fight against the Bratva now too.

“What about you?” Peter’s disgusted eyes scroll up and down my body. Granted, the tear in my jacket doesn’t look particularly appealing. The gasoline smell infused into my clothes probablydoesn’t enter his nose pleasantly like it does mine. “Why are you here?”

“Brander and I came together,” is the best response I’ve got.

Peter nods and returns to his darling daughter, swinging an arm around her shoulders.

Alice, clearly playing into it, rests her head on his shoulder blade. “It’s late, Daddy. You should go home. I’ll be okay, I promise.”

“We’ll need to keep her in overnight to keep an eye on her concussion,” Lifesaver announces.

Subtly, Alice raises a confused eyebrow.

“Concussion?” Peter panics.

“It’s not severe.” Lifesaver wedges a clipboard under his arm. He clicks off the pen he’s been holding for several minutes now and pops it back into a chest pocket. “But it’s precautionary that we keep her in.”

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