Page 13 of Viva Wed Vegas

“I may have already started on the tequila, but fear not, my brothers from another mother. Once I eat, or chuck up, I shall be golden to continue this night of debauchery.” Hawk winks.

“None of us are doing shit other than having a good time, then going back to the hotel and fucking our ol’ ladies,” Cash counters.

Hawk gasps, pressing his palm to his chest. “You thought I meant to fuck other women. Fuck no. I plan on fucking Josie every way I can bend her tonight. We get to behave like we used to, minus the fucking,” he states.

Scar laughs and shakes his head. “Sit the fuck down and eat some chips and dip,” he offers, holding out a platter that has been laid out for us.

“Oooo, guacamole. My favourite!” Hawk claps excitedly before snatching up the platter and begins stuffing his face.

“So, if we are behaving like we used to, do I have a limit on what I collect?” Rage asks.

“No fucking collecting!” I bark.

His face falls in disappointment. “Fine,” he huffs.

“Jesus, I’m going to need the fucking tequila to get through this night. Hand it over,” I say, holding out my empty hand. Beast passes it to me, and I open it and knock a large glug of it back.

“Woohoo party!” Hawk chants. “Chug, chug, chug!” he goads.

I can’t help but fucking laugh at the dick. I pass the tequila to Spider, who joins in, taking a large pull from it. It’s not long before I’m soon feeling the buzz, and I relax into the atmosphere.

The limo comes to a stop, and someone opens the door for us. We all pile out, and as we stand, we are greeted by a man in a suit. I don’t miss the way he eyes our attire, but he refrains from commenting. Smart man. He leads us through the casino to a private room out the back, where a huge table is sat in the centre, laid out for dinner. A blackjack table, a roulette area, a space for blackjack, a poker table, and a few slot machines are spread out around the rest of the room.

My eyes sweep around the room, and there is even a cornered-off area with a huge screen playing sports with couches laid out in front.

A woman approaches the table, standing to the side.

“Dinner will be served in ten minutes. Please take your seats, and your drink orders will be taken. There are many games ready and available to you this evening, including sports betting. Sarah is there if you wish to place a bet. Gentlemen, please enjoy your evening,” the man states before bowing, then he clicks his fingers before walking out of the room.

Suddenly the doors open and staff members come in, acting like it’s a military procession. Some move to their various tables and stand behind them, while others move behind the dining table, standing with their backs to the wall and their faces forward.

“I guess we take out seats.” I shrug and walk over to the table, taking my seat before the rest of the brothers all do the same. Well, all apart from Hawk and Scar, who are in the servers faces, waving at them, trying to get a reaction.

“They’re like the Queen’s guards,” Scar states.

“Sit the fuck down,” I order.

They both reluctantly sit down, and as soon as they do, the staff move, each one taking our order. “Are you programmed to only ask and answer certain questions?” Hawk asks the guy serving him.

“No, sir,” he answers flatly.

“So, were you born and raised at home, or are you all bred like at some sort of farm?” Hawk continues.

I pinch the bridge of my nose, trying to find the willpower not to slap him upside the head. The guy raises his brow at him. “Hawk, for fuck’s sake, will you just order your fucking drink and leave the poor fucker to do his job?” I snap.

“Sorry for being fucking curious,” Hawk says, holding his hands up defensively.

“There’s being curious, and then there is being fucking ridiculous that they were bred in a farm or that they’re fucking robots,” Hap counters back.

“I didn’t think they were robots, but they must go to some kind of training school for this shit because they brainwash them not to show emotion or react. When I pinched his cock a minute ago, the fucker barely blinked. Now that ain’t normal,” Hawk argues.

“You pinched the guy’s cock?” I ask in disbelief.

Hawk shrugs. “I wanted to make sure he was conscious and not, like, hypnotised.”

I look at the poor fucker. “I’m sorry. We believe he was dropped on his head a lot as a kid,” I say, apologising on Hawk’s behalf.

“It’s okay, sir. It was the top of my thigh,” the guy answers and walks out of the room to get our drinks order.

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