Kicking out their stands, they lean the bikes and dismount then linger, lighting cigarettes and settling in.
Fuck. Here we go.
Eager to get this shit over with and go the hell home, I grab the stupid package and shove it under my arm. With long strides, I head toward them and the bikers notice me right away, stilling conversation and all turning to face me.
I don’t hesitate in my approach, and the big fucker I dealt with last week steps forward.
“I didn’t think you’d pull through.” His voice is gravelly and low, jagged in a way that speaks of hard living.
“You didn’t give me much of a choice.” I hold out the package and he takes it.
He doesn’t even glance at it, but passes it back to one of his brothers, keeping his eye on me. “Was kinda looking forward to bloodying that pretty-boy face of yours.”
My fingers itch to ball into fists, but leaving this parting peacefully is in the best interest of all involved. “You’re a man of your word; you back off me and Drake.” It’s a statement of fact, a promise that I need to hear him confirm.
The biker grins wide, whiskered lips curling back over the yellowed teeth of a chain smoker. “You tell your boy if he crosses us again he won’t live to talk about it.”
The guy’s eyes dart over my shoulder an instant before I hear the low rumble of male voices behind me. I turn to see a group of guys I instantly recognize just as the roar of motorcycle engines fire to life.
“Mase?” Wade says, his gaze moving between me and the retreating bikers as they mount their bikes to take off down the street.
Dammit, fuck! I dip my chin, hoping to sidestep into the shadows.
He shoves my shoulder. “What the hell are you doing here, man?” There’s humor in his voice, but when I turn to face him, his expression grows hard as he takes in the motorcycle taillights. “Those your friends?”
I notice Wade is with a few of the newer fighters, some guys who’ve just joined our camp and are clearly being given the hot-spots-in-Vegas tour.
“No.” The urge to get out of here is so strong my legs cramp with the desire to move. “They were asking for directions.”
He nods. “Oh, well then, come with us. I was just taking the boys here to check out all Vegas has to offer.” He grabs the back of my neck and motions for me to join him.
“No, thanks.” I motion to my truck and act casual. “I was just headed out.”
He’s back to glaring at me with suspicion. “You were already inside?”
Shit!
“Yeah, but uh—”
“Come on, Baywatch.” Pauly, one of the new guys, smacks me on the shoulder. “One drink!”
It’s easier to just have a damn drink than to figure out a way out of this that won’t get my ass teased for weeks. “Sure. Okay.” I shove Pauly—“It’s Mason or Mayhem to you, asshole”—and reluctantly follow, thankful that Wade hadn’t shown up two minutes earlier and seen me hand off at least ten pounds of drugs. I’ll pop in with them and then disappear as soon as I can.
Santos, working security at the back door, recognizes me and holds the door open for us, and we shuffle into a dark hallway. I feel the huge bouncer’s eyes on me as I pass, his glare burning into my head. Clearly this guy is protective of Trix. Threat received.
Techno music gets louder as we move down the corridor and get spit out into the main club. It takes a second for my eyes to adjust to the contrast of dark and day-glow as we shuffle through the room to a vacant table in the back. Thankfully, it’s busy enough that we’ve avoided being right up against the main stage. This might keep Trix from seeing me, and I could still get away with slipping out of here unnoticed.
We order drinks from a slutty-looking cheerleader and watch as a few dancers I’ve never seen before swivel their hips in nothing but a thin string tied between their legs. Judging by their lack of clothing, I’d say we’re catching the end of their dance.
“Tomorrow Cam’s going to talk to you guys about training partners . . .”
Wade’s involved in UFL Training 101, so I tune him out and scan the room, looking for the flash of platinum and purple, and coming up short. That means she’s backstage or in a