Page 13 of Choices

“You shouldn’t have brought him in the first place. What the hell are you doing with the likes of him anyway?” She smells like dessert, sweet and sinful.

“I met him at a card game and wanted some company.” Attempting to back up, her ass hits the wall.

“To punish me?” So close, so fucking close, I can taste her on my tongue.

“What?” The word comes out breathy. Her eyes roam my face, landing on my mouth.

“You’re with him to punish me,” I repeat.

That snaps her out of the spell she succumbed to. “Get over yourself. I’m not that pathetic, and I’m not with him in the way you’re insinuating.” She shoves at my chest, and I chuckle, stepping back as Green lumbers into the hall, holding out his hand, clutching it at the wrist. Blood tracks a line down his finger and drips to the floor.

“Where’s Di?”

“She’ll be up your ass with a mop if you don’t stop pissing blood on her floor.” Releasing an exasperated breath, I jab a finger down the hall and Green hurries in that direction. I don’t have a clue where Di is, but his interruption makes me realize how reckless we’re being discussing this shit in the hallway. Moving around Kit, I peer back into the bar.

Nicolas is nursing a beer at the end of the bar and luckily no one is paying attention to him. The brothers are too busy getting wasted, fucking, or both.

I take a hard look at the kid. He’s changed so much since I last saw him, but that was almost three years ago.

There are no similarities between him and his brother. Michael is always well put together, not a hair out of place, not so much as a piece of lint on the designer shit he wears. Not this motherfucker, though. His white shirt is covered in drink spills, his slacks gaping on the toothpicks he calls legs. The kid looks like he hasn’t eaten in months. He’s nothing but skin and bone, with gaunt cheeks and protruding collarbones. If Kitty told me he was a homeless person someone took pity on, I’d half believe it.

I don’t know why the Carnells are worried about being seen around the Kings when their own is out here high as a kite and starving to death, trying to rub his cock on women who don’t belong to him.

“I’ll get him out of here if it’s a problem,” Kitty says, sidling up to my side, following my line of sight to Nicolas. She’s leaving this place with him over my dead body.

“No, it’s fine. Go find your brother. He’ll want a word with you about this.”

“Did you tattle to Callan?” Her tone is a mix of disbelief and disgust.

“He was the one who fucking spotted the Carnell kid. Don’t blame me for your stupid decisions.” I glare down at her.

The air shifts between us, condensing, hate swelling in her chest. “I only blame you for being one of those stupid decisions.”

Damn, I’ve taken bullets that hurt less.

Her ass shimmies in a pair of leather pants, making my balls ache as she takes off, leaving me with a gaping wound. Only a fool would actively try and make a woman like Kitty not want them. This is a shitshow of my own making, and I hate myself for it.

I need a drink.

My long strides eat up the space between the door and the bar. “Bottle of whiskey and a glass,” I shout down the line of brothers to Maggie, who’s giggling about whatever Monster is saying to her. She holds up a finger, signaling for me to wait a minute. Is every bitch in this place trying to make me snap?

Arms suddenly wrap around my waist from behind. The overwhelming scent of crappy floral perfume invades my space as a petite brunette slides around my body like it’s a stripper pole. “You look tense. I can loosen you up.”

I couldn’t fuck her even if I wanted to. Kitty might as well have cut my cock off and taken it with her because even with this bitch’s bare tits pushing against my chest, there’s not so much as a twitch below my waist.

“You can get me a drink. Maggie is too busy getting her ear licked out.” Maggie is one of three who look like they were spat out of the same doctor’s office by a clone machine.

I slam my hand down on the black glossy bar, and Micky grunts beside me. “Monster’s cock is infamous. The size of an arm apparently. I hope he uses lube.” The chesty laugh that follows almost chokes him. He splatters and wheezes, a plume of smoke billowing from his lips. The blunt he’s smoking drops hot rocks onto his shirt, leaving little holes. How the fucker hasn’t set himself ablaze or gotten lung cancer by now, I’ll never know. The bastard looks ninety.

“He does,” the brunette purrs like a kitten, biting her lip. “Use lube,” she clarifies, running a hand down the length of my torso. “Spit.” She wags her eyebrows.

Great. As if the night hasn’t already been a pile of crap, now I have to hear about Monster’s monster cock.

“Go find someone else to fuck. I’m not drunk enough,” I tell her, pushing her away from me. Pouting, she backs away and is swiped up by another brother, making her screech and giggle.

“Would be like throwing a hotdog down a hallway going in after Monster, anyway, son.” Micky nods, pushing a glass of amber liquid my way. “I always order two when Maggie’s behind the bar. Bitch gets distracted like a cat spotting a laser pen.”

I knock the drink back in one gulp then hold it up in thanks before slamming it on the bar. Fuck you very much, Maggie.

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