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“Anyone else still find it weird when Preston openly checks out a guy?” Travis held his hands out and did a turn. “Especially when I’m right here.”
Preston threw the straw in his drink at Travis’s head, making him laugh, and the sound grated on my last nerve. “Can you shut the fuck up? We’re not here to have a good time.”
Travis rolled his eyes. “Clearly.”
“There’s my cue,” East said as one of Donovan’s friends smoothed a hand over Joey’s shoulder and twirled a finger through the back of his hair.
You couldn’t have paid me enough to touch that piece of shit.
Scratch that—I’d touch him for free, but not in any way he’d enjoy.
East’s lip curled into a devious grin, and as he set off through the crowd of clubgoers, I got to my feet and moved to the edge of our VIP area.
My eyes narrowed on the haughty set of East’s shoulders as he crossed the main floor, and when he came to the far end of the bar and crooked a finger at the bartender, I could feel the vein in my temple begin to throb.
This was the most important part of the whole plan. If this didn’t go our way, we were fucked. But if anyone could pull it off, it was East.
My fingers balled into a fist at my side as I watched the two chat back and forth. The bartender nodded at whatever East was saying, then an exchange of cash was made and the plan was put into place.
The bartender moved away then, going back to making drinks for the crowd gathered at the bar, as East weaved his way back through the crowds. None of us asked for confirmation of the task he’d set out to do. The smug look on his face was answer enough. So when the DJ started playing a pulse-pounding favorite, the guys started to dance in celebration while I kept my eyes trained on the target.
Joey with an arm wrapped around one of the models, while another whispered some bullshit lie to Doug the dick. It wasn’t until the bartender arrived in front of Carl with a tray of drinks—three shots for the big men on campus, and three vodka sodas for theever-conscious-of-their-weight models—that I felt a feral smile curl my lip.
It was the perfect plan, really.
So simple.
The three assholes threw back their shots.
Now it was only a matter of time.
And suddenly, I had all the patience in the world.
Phase Two
THE BUZZ OF the tattoo gun hummed, and with every dot of ink into Joey’s skin, a curl of satisfaction settled in the pit of my stomach. Not enough to soothe the beast that wanted to come out. But watching a professional tattoo artist freestyle a design of our choice on his neck was fucking priceless.
“Dude, what’s with the scowl?” Travis asked. “I figured this would be the part you’d be all shits and giggles over. You know, decorating this fucker’s face?”
“Maybe if it was with my fist.”
Travis crossed his arms, scrunching his nose up as he peered down at the limp dick between us.
“You already did that. Plus, the goal here is to make them suffer, not us. If you go to jail, he wins.”
“If I kill him, he dies.”
“I don’t know if you’re joking or?—”
“He touched Gavin. He deserves anything he gets.”
“Truuue, which is why he’s getting a reminder of what he is tattooed on his neck.” Travis’s grin was downright devious as he peered over the shoulder of Simone, who was wielding the guillotine tonight. “It’s uncanny how real that looks.”
“Yeah, well, I’ve seen a few of them in my time,” she replied. “But I do appreciate your offer to have a lifelike piece to study.”
“You offered?” West looked Travis over and shook his head. “What am I saying, of course you did.”
“Yeah, but then I thought of the oozing genital warts she was gonna add to the image and thought better of it.” Travis reached down and rubbed between his thighs. “Ain’t no one messing with this work of art.”
