I pop a gum in my mouth. Coping mechanism, I guess.
“Hey.” Dec dips his chin. He takes his shot, scanning the three of our faces. “How is everyone feeling?”
“Like hitting someone,” Fork says instantly.
“Well, she’s a woman,” Penny bites out, shooting him a look. “So I have dibs.”
I smack my gum, dragging a hand over my face. This is going to be a long night. This might be a bloody night. Internally. For our team. It’s a civil fucking war.
“I don’t want to be here,” Arden breathes out.
“Me neither,” I mumble.
“I do,” Lowesy, Penny, and Fork say in unison.
We all break into amused smiles, the tension evaporating just enough to let us breathe. There was a discussion about the group of us skipping this event andthatbeing the first statement we made. We wouldn’t show up for anything unless Danford and his wife were nowhere near it, but that idea was quickly shot down. Lowesy was scared that if we did it that way, the first time Penny saw Morgan again would be on her own, and we’d wind up having a murder on our hands.
“How’s he doing?” I ask, leaning against the bar next to Arden.
“They’re both fine,” Lowesy says. “That doesn’t make it fair.”
“No,” I agree. “It doesn’t.”
“Grab me a vodka water with a teensy splash of lime juice!”
We all whirl toward that voice. The nails on a chalkboard effect it creates has always been specifically identifiable. Emma is the one walking toward the bar with Luka’s hand in hers, but it’s Morgan by the doorway who is calling out to her minion to do her bidding.
She pauses when all our heads snap in her direction, startled, but she just lifts her hand and waves with a phony fucking smile as if it’s any other day.
And Penny is gone.
“Fuck,” Declan hisses, scurrying after her.
The rest of us jump into action, following them hurriedly. We abandon our drinks and push past groups of people, avoiding greetings and handshakes. There is a lion on the attack, and she’s about to catch the snake in her jaws.
Penny slams her purse down on one of the tables just before we reach them. Morgan’s eyes widen at the crazed look on her face, and Tom’s smile morphs into a look of utter confusion at whatever he sees. Penny’s hand is suddenly wrapped in the back of Morgan’s hair, and I physically use my body to shield what’s happening from the rest of the room. Forker, catching my drift, jumps into position beside me.
Tom steps forward as Penny pushes Morgan out of the door by her hair, his mouth opening to scold her for mishandling his wife. Big mistake. Within a second, Declan’s fists are buried in the fabric of his suit and he’s hauling him into the hallway right behind his wife.
Fork and I share a look. Don’t get between the crew. Ever.
We storm into the hall after them, gently shutting the doors behind us to prevent an audience. Just as the door clicks, Penny shoves Morgan’s head away from her. It’s a violent move, one that rips Morgan’s dark hair in ten different directions and pushes her a few steps away.
Morgan reaches for her head with a wince.
The scene belongs in the fucking Louvre.
Penny is all sharp edges and angles, dressed in a high-necked, black gown with full-length sleeves. Her hair is pulled back into a twisted bun at the nape of her neck, which shows off every inch of the rage on her face. Those eyes are the eye of a hurricane, and Morgan’s in the center of it.
And she is cowering.
“What the fuck?” Morgan cries, rubbing the back of her head. She looks to her husband, who Declan finally drops back onto his feet. “Tom!”
“You are so fucking lucky that I’m not an American citizen,” Penny snarls, shoving her finger in Morgan’s face. She storms forward, making Morgan scurry back a step, and the pride I feel for knowing Penelope Lowes skyrockets. She’s terrifying if she’s not on your side. “Because I am not willing to get sent back to Canada before I get to enjoy being married to my husband.”
“What are you talking about?” Morgan screeches, her brown eyes wild. “You’re insane!”
“My god, do you ever shut up?” Forker groans, throwing his head back.
