Chapter 45

I didn’t wantto influence her decision, but I’m so fuckin’ happy Molly chose to keep her car, and that she’s able to see it in a different light now.

I hug her close again. “It’s still just a car. Definitely not unbreakable.”

She drills one of her poke-y little fingers into my side. “Hey. You know what I mean.”

“I do.” My smile fades. “And I feel the same way.”

“Thank you.” She rests her head on my shoulder and we watch the party for a bit. The bar’s over capacity. Pretty much anyone and everyone we know is here.

Most of the Lost Kings, from both the upstate and downstate clubs, along with their wives and girlfriends, have shown up. Guys from Zips, including Torch—which irritated me to no end—but so far he hasn’t shown his face in this corner of the bar.

Lots of fighters from The Castle have stopped to talk to me. They all want to gas me up about the Vegas fight. One asked how he could audition for Season Two of Supreme Underground Fighter. I told him to come talk to me at the gym this week. From their perspective, I’m sure it looks like I have the world by the balls. Went on TV, got famous, brought home stack of cash, and now I’m in a pro fight and earning a lot of money. That’s the dream, right? I’ll never be able to convince them otherwise. But maybe I can help any future fighters prepare for the SUF the experience better than I was able to.

Tonight’s going so well, I almost feel bad for giving Remy shit about throwing the party. Since it’s his place and he’s hosting, I didn’t want him closing down for the whole night. But our biker friends have been stuffing the tip jars with every order they make. So much so that maybe he’ll end up making more than if he’d been open to the public.

“Do you think I should go relieve Remy of bar duty?” Molly asks.

“Uh, absolutely not.” I know most of the people here, but I’m not sure all of them are aware of who Molly is or that she’s with me. A woman behind the bar by herself in a place full of bikers, mobsters, and gearheads could be trouble.

“Griff, I recognize almost everyone here,” Molly says. “And if they don’t know I’m your girlfriend, they definitely know I’m Remy’s sister.”

I lean down and say against her ear, “Knowing you’re Remy’s sister didn’t stop me from wanting to put my filthy paws all over you.”

She pulls away and flicks her challenging blue eyes up at me. “And you only get to put your hands on me because you have my permission, not Remy’s.”

She’s got me there. “Excellent point, Miss Holt.” I slide out of the bench and hold out my hand to her. “Let’s go give your brother a break.”

“You can’t serve drinks at your own party,” she protests, slipping her hand into mine.

“I’m not planning to.”

“You’re just going to sit at the bar like a scary bulldog chasing people away.”

I love the way my girl just gets me. “Woof, woof, baby.”

Her eyes narrow and her lips flatten with the effort of not laughing.

I walk behind Molly, keeping my hands at her waist to help her navigate the crowd—and because I enjoy touching her every second I can.

A large hand with several thick, metal rings on each finger waves in front of my face to catch my attention. Rooster’s bearded face grins at me. I stop and tug on Molly’s belt loops, so we can say hi to the Lost Kings downstate VP.

“Congratulations.” He slaps my shoulder hard enough to knock over a rhino.

“Thanks.”

His biker brother, Dex, joins us, also offering a congratulatory backslap. “I tried to warn you that was going to be a shit show,” he says, cutting right to it.

I shrug and nod, not really looking for brotherly advice or opinions at the moment. He means well, but I’m not in the mood. “I survived, but I definitely wouldn’t do it again.”

“Thank God,” Molly grumbles.

Dex chuckles. His gaze slides between Molly and me, noting how I’ve got my arm around her out in the open.

“How’re you doing, Molly?” he asks.

“Good. I was on my way to help my brother out.” She flicks an amused look up at me. “But someone thinks I need my own personal bouncer.”

Dex and Rooster both shake with laughter.

“No comment,” Dex says.

“Emily here with you?” I ask him.

“She is.” He nods to the far corner, across from the bar. “Playing darts with the ladies.”

“Come say hi to me.” Molly waves over her shoulder as she continues moving through the crowd.

Rooster eyes me. “We will. Don’t go far, Stonewall.”

I tilt my head toward Molly, now a few steps ahead of me. “You know where I’ll be.”

Molly slips behind the counter, picks up an apron and wraps it around her waist. Instead of walking through the crowd again, I also slide in behind the counter, intent on popping out at the other end and perching my ass on the last stool, where I’ll have the best view of everyone approaching the bar.

Remy stops me with a hand on my chest. “You done mauling my sister?”

I brush his hand off me, but he’s still in my way. “Not even close.”

“Griff,” Molly rests one hand on each of our shoulders and leans up on her tiptoes, “will you please tell my brother that I can handle things for a few minutes so he can take a break?”

I lift my eyebrows at Remy.

He turns his head, quickly scanning the room.

“Fine.” He sets the rag in his hands on the counter. “I won’t go far,” he says to Molly. “If you get a request for something you don’t know how to make, just offer them a beer.”

She nods quickly. “I can do that.”

I push him down the line and out from behind the bar.

He lifts his head, searching the room or checking to see that everything’s still intact. “I’m gonna run in back.” His gaze shifts to Molly, then back to me. “You’ll?—”

“Be right here.” I settle myself on the last stool.

He nods once and takes off.

I swivel from side to side on the stool and cross my arms over my chest, trying to look more like a mascot than a guard dog.

A short blonde woman rests her silver cowgirl boots on the lower rung of one of the stools next to me and boosts herself up to lean over the counter. “Can you make me a Paloma?” she asks Molly in a thick Texan accent.

I recognize the accent and the woman it belongs to. “Hey, Shelby. How’ve you been?”

She whips her head my way, then beams. “Howdy, Griff! I’ve been lookin’ for ya.” Her lips quirk with amusement. “Rooster said you came this way. I shoulda been lookin’ for Molly, knowin’ you wouldn’t be strayin’ far.”

Molly’s waiting on the other side of the bar with a frozen deer-in-the-headlights expression. I can’t tell if it’s because she doesn’t know how to make a Paloma or she’s starstruck from being face-to-face with her favorite country singer. Probably a little of both.

“Did she ask for a Paloma?” Another girl with long black and rainbow-colored hair slips behind the bar. “I can show you how to make it,” she says to Molly.

“Griff,” Shelby says to me. “This is Jiggy’s sister, Jezzie. Have you met?—”

“We’ve met.” I nod once. “How are you?”

“Fine,” she answers in a perpetually bored tone.

Like her brother, she’s not much of a talker. But unlike Jigsaw, Jezzie’s kind and patient, as she shows Molly how to blend the tequila and grapefruit juice cocktail.

Molly’s scrunched expression seems torn between thankful for the help and wanting this strange woman off her turf, but she listens to Jezzie’s instructions and finally passes the drink to Shelby with a shaking hand.

“Thank you much.” Shelby takes a quick sip and sets the glass down. “Perfect.”

“So, why were you looking for me?” I ask Shelby.

“Oh! Ha! Vegas. I’m supposed to ask you about Vegas.” She takes another sip of her drink.

Before she elaborates, Jigsaw and Rooster approach us. Rooster rests his hands on Shelby’s shoulders and she tips her head back to smile at him.

Jigsaw scowls at his sister. “Why are you back there?”

“I was helping.” She rolls her eyes. “I’ve tended bar. I know what I’m doing.”

Jiggy huffs an annoyed breath but doesn’t argue. The two of them never seem to get along.

“She taught me how to make a Paloma,” Molly says.

“Anyone bother you tonight, Molly?” he asks.

“No.”

He pats the knife at his side. “Just let me know.”

Her eyes widen and then she bursts into laughter. “Will do.”

“I’m afraid to ask,” I mutter.

“While you were off frolicking with ring bunnies, your girl was gettin’ groped by customers,” Jigsaw says.

“For fuck’s sake,” Rooster mutters.

“What?” Jigsaw’s eyes widen until he looks like a cartoon of an overgrown, innocent child. “He asked.”

“Actually, I said I was afraid to ask,” I point out.

“Which is code for tell me more.” He flashes a serial killer smile at me.

“Lord.” Jezzie tips her head back and raises her hands toward the ceiling. “I can not with him. So rude.”

“I’m blunt,” Jigsaw insists. “There’s a difference.”

“Not really,” Jezzie says.

Molly shakes with laughter. “Have you met my brother? That’s why they don’t like each other. They’re too similar.”

“I take offense to that,” Jigsaw says.

Jezzie leans close to Molly. “If you need help, holler. I’ll go work the other end.”

“Thank you.”

Molly moves to the center of the bar to help someone else. Jigsaw and Rooster move in closer, boxing me in, which I can’t say I’m thrilled about.

“How’s this Vegas thing going down?” Jigsaw asks.

I stare at him, surprised he gives a fuck since he basically just called me an asshole. “Why do you care?”

“Don’t get twisted because I busted your nuts.” He casts a look Shelby’s way. “We all know you’ve been exonerated from cheating on your sweet little girlfriend.”

Shelby’s grave face peeks around Rooster’s side. “I wish you woulda come an’ talked to me before you did that show. I coulda warned you those maggots are devious as all get-out.”

One corner of my mouth hikes up. I appreciate the sentiment, but even with the warning, I still probably would’ve done the show. “Molly likes to refer to them as demon clowns.”

She hoots with laughter. “Damn straight they are. Bloodsucking demon clowns. All of ’em. Seriously, though, it musta been rough.” She holds out her fist and I tap my knuckles against hers. “Reality survivor club.”

“Thanks. Don’t tell me you watched it?”

“Hell naw. But I caught some of your fights.”

I shrug. “Only parts worth watching.”

She nods and swivels toward the bar to talk to Molly again.

“So,” Jigsaw says. “I take it you’re going to need an entourage with you in Vegas.”

I stare at him. “What?”

He lifts his shoulders in an isn’t-it-obvious shrug. “All those fight guys travel in packs.”

“Because you’re so knowledgeable on this topic?” Rooster says, side-eyeing his friend.

“I know things. What’re you gonna do, Griff? Show up to fight week with just Remy scowling by your side? You need more people around you.” Jigsaw slaps his friend’s chest but focuses his attention on me. “We’ve handled security for Shelby’s last two tours. We know what we’re doing.”

“Security.” I slide my gaze between the two of them. “I can’t afford that.”

“That’s where the whole brotherhood thing comes in,” Rooster says, as if I’m dense.

“Yeah, but I’m not a patched member of your club,” I remind him in an equally are you dumb tone.

“Bro, you and Remy were there,” he lowers his voice and leans away from Shelby’s stool, “when Shelby was in trouble. I owe you.”

“You don’t owe me anything.” I snort and shake my head. We didn’t do a damn thing helpful on that trip. “We got there after everything went down.”

“Yeah, but you came.” Rooster’s solemn expression doesn’t change. “That shit matters.”

I would feel better going with more people, especially since Molly will be there. I’ll be tied up with pre-fight interviews and training. I don’t want her to feel abandoned. And let’s face it, it’s not exactly hardship for a bunch of bikers to hang out in Vegas for a weekend.

While I’m mulling it over, Remy returns from wherever he went. He slaps my shoulder and stands next to me.

“What’re you doing with the bar?” Jigsaw asks him.

Remy crosses his arms over his chest. “What am I doing with it for what?”

“When your boy’s in Vegas,” Jigsaw says. “I assume you’re going?”

Not sure how I feel about being called Remy’s “boy.”

Dex joins our circle, almost like they planned their ambush in advance.

“Where are we at?” Dex asks Rooster.

What the fuck is happening?

“Asking if he needs help covering the bar for Vegas,” Jigsaw says.

Remy shrugs. “I’ll have coverage. Lynette and Anderson will be fine for a weekend.”

“Emily and I can help you out,” Dex offers.

Remy frowns. “Does Emily know you’re offering her services?”

He chuckles. “She likes your place. She’s between jobs right now. She won’t mind helping a small local business. I’m out this way all the time. It’s not a problem. And it’s not like I don’t have experience.”

“Your strip club isn’t quite the same as my Nana and Grandpop’s tavern,” Remy laughs. “But I get your point.”

“Yeah, it’ll probably be a lot less drama than what I deal with,” Dex says.

I glance at Remy. “They did say I can bring whoever I want with me.” I don’t want to ask for his opinion in front of the Lost Kings and accidentally insult them when they’re making a generous offer.

“Eraser’s already committed but Vapor’s probably not going to be able to go, so the more people the better.” He pops his fists together and shoots a quick glare at me. “It’ll make me feel better about Molly being there.”

“Shelby wants to go too.” Rooster rests his arm over her shoulders, drawing her back into the conversation. “If you don’t mind.”

Have an actual celebrity in my entourage? “No, of course not.” Molly will be so excited to hang out with Shelby, maybe she won’t worry about me as much.

“Oh, oh, oh!” Shelby leans forward. “I’m supposed to ask you if you need a sponsor.”

I stare at her, unsure of how to answer.

“Not me.” She waves her hand in front of her face. “I told Dawson I know you.” She glances up at Rooster as if asking if she should continue. He shrugs. “He sponsors fighters sometimes. Hates the guy you’re fighting.” She snaps her fingers a few times. “Magic?”

I nod quickly.

“He really wants to see you punch his porch lights out,” Shelby says.

Remy snorts at her colorful description.

This is so fucking weird.

“Well, give it a think,” she says. “I’ll have him reach out to you.”

“All right.”

Rooster lifts his chin at me before leaving with Shelby.

“Don’t sweat it, Griff.” Jigsaw says in a low, confidential tone. “Dawson Roads has more money than he knows what to do with.”

“Yeah, but still…” I shake my head like it’ll help me sort all the information that’s been thrown at me.

But the surprises aren’t finished coming.

The shadow of the enforcer for the Lost Kings falls over us. Wrath’s big enough to block out half the room. Jigsaw moves to the stool Shelby had been sitting on.

“Welcome back.” Wrath stretches out his hand and I give it a quick shake.

“Thanks for coming.”

He stares at me for a few seconds. “The fuck happened to your face?”

I shoot a glare at Remy. “Some cocky asshole wanted to go a few rounds.”

Remy raises his hand, then winces from his still-sore ribs. “Hi, it’s me. I’m the cocky asshole.”

Wrath rumbles with laughter. “Good to see nothing changes with you two.” His gaze narrows on Remy. “Who won?”

“I tapped out,” Remy admits without posturing. “He was three seconds from choking me unconscious.”

Wrath has always appreciated directness. He nods slowly, then focuses on me again. “Looked like you learned some new techniques on the show?” He waves his big hand in front of my face. “Besides all that other embarrassing bullshit.”

I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Don’t tell me you watched it.”

“Fuck no. Just some of the highlights Trinity showed me.”

“You let your wife watch that?” Remy asks. “A show full of shirtless beefcakes clowning around and showing off?”

Wrath’s scary eyes turn toward Remy. He runs his hand over his chest. “She has access to the beefiest of beefcakes. Why would I care what she watches?”

I side-eye Remy. “Does anyone other than cartoon characters still say beefcake?”

One corner of Remy’s mouth slides up. “I was trying to pick a word from back in the olden days that he’d recognize.”

Instead of punching Remy through the wall, Wrath laughs. “I’ve forgotten more than you’ll ever know, kid.”

Wrath shifts his attention back to me. “Where are you going to train for this fight? Sully’s place?”

“Seems like the obvious choice since that’s where I got recruited for the show. Jake and Sully said they’d both work with me.”

“If you don’t mind the longer drive, you’re welcome to train at Furious too,” Wrath offers. “I’m a little rusty on the more technical shit, but I can help you focus on the endurance.”

Rusty.I doubt that. Wrath was lethal in the underground circuit years ago. “You mean you’ll whip me while I run on a treadmill?” I joke.

“Yeah, something like that.”

“He’s gonna start running with me in the mornings again,” Remy says. “Once he gets clearance from a doctor about his knee.”

Oh, that’s rich coming from Remy since he kicked that knee. I slowly turn and glare at him.

“Get that shit checked out first,” Wrath says. “Then stop by whenever. If I’m not there, Murphy can help you.”

“Thanks. I would like to split my time.”

Sully’s gym is closer to me, but it’s small and fills up quickly. Wrath’s place—Furious Fitness—expanded a few years ago and has a lot more equipment.

“Good deal.” Wrath reaches out and pats my shoulder. “We’ll help you get ready for fight camp and make sure you win this thing.”

After he and Jigsaw leave, Remy and I are alone—at least for now. He quickly pushes me behind the bar and into the corner next to a mirrored shelf.

“What the fuck?” he says in my ear.

“Yeah, no shit. I’m feelin’ all kinds of love bombed right now.”

“You need an entourage. Let’s find you a sponsor. Come train at my gym.” He lists off all the things that were just thrown our way.

“It’s about them showing us they’ll hold up their end of the support if we form the support club,” I say.

“Or there’s something else in it for them,” Remy finishes.

Realization runs over me like a herd of elephants. I’ve been so overwhelmed with figuring out how to structure my training cycle, I haven’t thought much further than the fight itself. Which is really fucking stupid since Remy and I have run an illegal gambling ring for years.

“It’s Vegas.” How did I not see this coming?

Remy nods slowly. “You’re the underdog.”

“Fucking seriously?” A rush of annoyance washes over me. I proved myself week after week on SUF. It’s not like all those fights aren’t available for everyone to watch and see what I can do in the ring.

“It’s your first pro fight. As far as everyone’s concerned, you’re unproven.”

That means I’m right. “So, Lost Kings have a vested interest in my training before the fight and my safety at the fight. They’re planning to place heavy bets on me to win.”

“Then I guess you better win.” Remy’s expression remains dead serious. “Because I really don’t want to be chopped into pieces and tossed in the Hudson River.”