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Sam’s eyes were hard as he said, “I don’t need a couple of drunk girls to let me know that I still got it, honey.”
The arrogance of my brother.
I grinned and crossed my arms, feeling a sudden chill.
“I’m ready to go,” I said to him.
Michael opened the door and gestured me out.
“I’ll go with him, too!” Twat Tiffany called out.
“Your twat done been used too many times for that man to ever take a second look at it,” one of the girls from the bridal party called out.
And, since Twat Tiffany had been privy to the reason the ladies were in there in the first place, she didn’t rise to the bait that the woman had thrown at her.
At least she had some sense.
Sam reached forward and ran his hand down my arm, causing me to wince. “Oww.”
Sam’s eyes went to my arm that was now sporting a rather impressive bruise.
His jaw tightened.
“She shouldn’t have been arrested,” Sam muttered to Saint.
Michael shrugged. “Sadly, she was the one that started it. And the recipient of that punch does have the right to press charges. Did he deserve it? Yes. But he didn’t do anything wrong enough, at least outwardly, to deserve that. At least appearance-wise.”
Sam grumbled something underneath his breath, then his eyes came to me. “You’re done working there.”
I shrugged. “I’ll work there until I find something else.”
“You have enough money in your account to quit. And Lynn will give you a nice severance package,” he offered.
I rolled my eyes. “I’ll work there until I find something else.”
This was a fun game that I always played with my brothers and father.
I mean, I found a job, they made it worth my while to quit. Then I found one equally as offensive.
It worked out so well that I was able to get my dream car, a 1970 Chevy Chevelle SS, from Sam. It was also how I got my back tattoo paid for by my other brother, Sebastian.
One of these days, they’d offer me something really good, and I wouldn’t be able to turn them down.
Sam and I walked out of the police station about ten minutes later, and I made sure to wash my hands before we left.
I felt gross.
Not only had I spent most of the night working, and sweating, I’d then had to sit in that hell hole for a couple of hours.
Just as we were walking to Sam’s bike, a loud commotion from the side had both Sam and I turning to survey the crowd of people that were gathered there.
And in the middle of it was Adam.
His back was rippling, and he looked pissed as hell as he used his strong, muscular body to block a hole in the blockades that had been erected in the parking lot sometime after I’d arrived.
“What’s all that about?” I asked, stopping myself from fanning my face at the way Adam looked holding people back with the strength in his body alone.
“You punched a movie star in the face, Amelia,” Sam said. “Did you honestly think that people wouldn’t notice that? Or record it?”
I hadn’t really thought about it at all.
I didn’t know that the man was a fucking movie star.
Not that knowing would’ve stopped me from decking the piece of shit.
“I felt uncomfortable,” I told Sam. “Like seriously, the men were blocking me in. Three huge guys. What did you want me to do? Spread my legs…”
“I wanted you to do exactly what you did,” he growled, stopping me before I could get too offensive. “Fucking asshole. It’ll die down.”
It might.
Or it might not.
There was no telling.
But I could definitely tell I was no longer the favorite person in Kilgore, Texas anymore.
Oh well.
“Take me to my car, please,” I said softly.
Sam did as asked, and just before I got off of his bike, he stopped me with a hand on my shoulder.
“I’m proud of you, Amelia,” Sam said.
I’d heard the words before, of course. But not often.
More often I heard other things.
Things like: you’re a pain in my ass, Amelia. Amelia, you need to learn more patience. Amelia, you shouldn’t work at a strip club. I told you so, Amelia. Amelia, you need to learn to fight your own battles. Amelia, why won’t you let us protect you? Amelia, why do you give me heart palpitations?
I grinned at my brother, then, for good measure, I threw myself into his arms and wrapped my arms around him tight.
“Love you,” he rumbled.
“Love you, too,” I replied just before climbing into my car.
He watched me go, his eyes on me the entire way out of the parking lot.
Once getting to the main road, though, I didn’t turn left and head home.
I turned right and headed somewhere completely different.
Somewhere I probably shouldn’t be, but couldn’t stop myself from going.Chapter 6
Pickle juice. Pickle popsicles. Pickle lip balm. Pickles are a girl’s best friend.
