Coast strolled up. “Did someone say torture? Sounds like a perfect Tuesday night.”
I handed Merci the trio of darts.
“Come on,” I begged. “Let us show that fucker what it means to hurt a Maverick woman.”
Merci rolled her eyes. “First of all, I’m not a Maverick woman. I don’t belong to any of you. Second, as fun as that sounds, I’m going to be the bigger person.”
“Overrated,” Coast argued.
“Good for you,” Fuse added.
“Bigger person?” I barked out a laugh. “After what I just watched you do, I’m not sure there’s any moral high ground left for you to stand on. Maybe we should just go burn down his house—really finish things off right.”
Merci shoved my shoulder. “Let’s play pool instead.” She pointed to Coast. “Prospect, you’re with me.”
He stepped forward without hesitation, and I bristled at the easy smirk tugging at his mouth.
Merci lined up her shot. Her stance looked good until she angled the cue too high, and the ball missed the pocket. “I get a do-over,” she announced, moving the ball back to its original position. “Breakup rules.”
Coast stepped in behind her, lowering his hand over hers. “Here, let me show you.” His voice was low and steady as he guided her wrist a fraction lower, palm brushing the curve of her hand. “Keep it flat. You’ll get better control.”
My hackles rose, blood roaring in my ears as I watched Coast with his front pressed against Merci’s yoga pant-clad ass.
Merci went still for a beat, then tilted her head back just enough to look at him over her shoulder. “You sure seem confident for a prospect.”
“This isn’t my first rodeo,” Coast murmured, mouth twitching in a half-grin. “The hazing here ain’t shit compared to BUD/S.”
Instead of pulling away, Merci leaned into him, letting his chest brush her shoulder as she bent to take the shot. The cue cracked against the ball, and one striped ball dropped into the pocket.
“BUD/S?” Merci inquired as she turned to face him.
“Basic Underwater Demolition/SEAL training. The closest thing to hell on Earth,” he said, his eyes locked on hers.
“So, you think you’re a tough guy?” She raised a brow and raked her gaze up and down his body.
Coast leaned in, caging Merci against the pool table with his arms. “IknowI’m a tough guy.”
“I bet you’re good at taking orders,” Merci taunted.
“I’m better at giving them,” he countered.
I set down my glass with a loud thud that echoed through the clubhouse like a warning shot.
“Get me another drink, prospect,” Merci demanded, her tone as stern as a drill sergeant. “The sweetest thing you can get Leah to make me without her poisoning it.”
Coast smirked. “Yes, ma’am.”
I trailed behind him and tugged him aside by the elbow once we were out of earshot. “Listen up,” I murmured, keeping it friendly enough not to make a scene but hard enough that he knew I meant it. “That’s Merrick’s sister. Daughter of a founder. Club royalty. Off fucking limits. Understand?”
Coast didn’t flinch, just met my stare and gave a single nod. “Yes, sir.”
“Good. Because Merrick’s telling Thane you deserve a patch, and I’d hate to have to tell him you were hitting on his sister.” I patted him on the shoulder. “Get me a beer and bring back a round of shots while you’re at it. And tell Leah I’ll clean the entire bar tomorrow if she makes whatever the fuck Merci wants tonight.”
I spun around, not waiting for his response. Merci looked over, one eyebrow raised. I shrugged, giving her a sheepish grin. She flipped me off before spinning the cue in her hands. “You’re up.”
A few hours later, with the music pounding and the party in full swing, Merci’s eyes had grown drowsy and soft.
“Let’s get you to bed,” I suggested, steadying her with a hand at her elbow.
