Page 132 of Menace in Vegas

Harper, Allie, Tara, Chloe, and even Gram dance in the middle of it, screaming the lyrics to “Man, I Feel Like a Woman” like they’ve been possessed by the spirit of unhinged karaoke.

Meanwhile, Ford, Jake, Cole, Daltyn, and I are posted up at the bar, watching in awe as the women go absolutely feral.

“Should we be concerned?” Jake mutters, taking a sip of his drink. “Gram might break a hip if she keeps swiveling them like that.”

Ford snorts and raises his brows. “You wanna go out there and try to stop her?”

Jake looks petrified before taking a long pull of his drink. “No, thanks. I’m good.”

I laugh, turning my attention back to Allie. As she shakes her ass, an uneasy feeling washes over me. “Are you sure this is a good idea?” I ask Ford.

He shrugs. “I say we leave them alone. They’re living their best lives.”

“That sounds like something Gram would say.”

Ford moans. “Oh, hell. She’s rubbing off on me.”

I level him with a look. “If you ever rent a pink Cadillac for me or Allie, I’m cutting your nuts off.”

He winces, then nods. “That’s fair.”

Cole whistles. “Chloe’s got moves.”

Ford smirks. “Harper’s got weapons.”

I keep my eyes locked on my very drunk wife, who’s swaying her hips and laughing like she doesn’t have a single worry in the world.

My heart clenches.

She’s so damn beautiful.

And mine. All mine.

Then some dead man walking grabs her ass.

For a second, my brain short-circuits. Then my blood boils.

Allie stumbles forward before whirling around with wide eyes. “Excuse me?”

The guy—a sloppy, cocky piece of shit in a half-buttoned shirt—grins like he’s charming. “Come on, sweetheart. Just having a little fun.”

I see red.

I shove my drink at Ford and move.

“Uh-oh,” Ford mutters. “Here we go.”

By the time I reach them, Allie already has a hand on the guy’s chest, shoving him back. “Touch me again, and I’ll break your fingers one by one.”

That’s when I step in, grab him by the collar, and yank him back. “You wanna tell me why the fuck you put your hands on my wife?”

The guy blinks, clearly realizing he made a huge mistake. “Hey, man, relax?—”

I tilt my head, real slow. “Wrong answer.”

I punch him so hard, the force of the hit sends him crashing into a table, drinks flying.

Then, because the universe has a twisted sense of humor, I hear Harper yell, “Excuse you?”

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