“You need stitches, man.” He doesn’t seem too enthusiastic about doing them.
“You forget how a needle and thread work?” I spear him with a glare. He shakes his head no and carries on with what I need. The sting and pricks of the stitches burn, but he’s finished in no time, then covers it with gauze.
“Good to go, I guess,” Neo says, backing off and leaving before I can coldcock him. If I wanted commentary, I’d have gone to a fucking emergency room.
“You good?” Viking asks as he approaches. At my assurance, he turns to leave, saying, “I’m going to get Logan.” Who is working tonight and won’t appreciate this man going caveman on her.
“She’s going to fight us,” I comment, following behind him.
He stops dead and spins around. “You aren’t going anywhere. You need to sit your ass down and rest that leg.” Crossing his arms in an aggressive stance, he’s prepared to fight me on this.
“This an order from my VP or partner?” I challenge.
“Both.”
Well fuck. Wasn’t expecting that.
“She’s going to fight you tooth and nail.” He laughs at my warning.
“Not when I tell her you were shot.” He’s got me there. “So how about you take your ass over to that couch and play like it’s something serious while I deal with our woman.”
Not typically one to do as I’m told; this time, I do because it’ll mean Logan will be all over me.
“Good boy.”
He howls in laughter as I toss my empty bottle at his retreating back, hitting the wall and shattering as he walks out.
“Asshole,” I grumble, not missing everyone else’s snickering.
Chapter 22
Viking
Leaning against the bar in Euphoria, I watch Logan as she maneuvers her way through the club and customers trying to grab at her phenomenal ass. Her smiles come off as friendly but not inviting, and that’s the only reason I’m not committing a few felonies right now.
“Get you a drink?” the bartender asks, wiping the counter in front of me and placing down a coaster.
“Whatever you’ve got on tap.”
With a “sure thing,” he gets me the drink and leaves it without another word as I drop a twenty on the bar top.
Waiting for Logan to notice me is like watching paint dry; it takes forever. I’m about to ask for another beer when we finally lock gazes.
After finishing with her customer, she hurries over, places her tray on the bar, and throws her arms around my neck, tugging me down for a tongue-filled kiss that I take charge of quickly. Sucking and biting at her until she yelps and draws back.
“I missed you,” she whispers, her eyes searching for Priest as she nibbles on her lip, afraid to ask about him.
“He’s at the clubhouse.” I’m not into making her wonder if he’s no longer interested in her because I know that’s exactly where her head will go. “We had some things to do tonight, and they didn’t work out quite as planned.” Her eyes widen alarmingly before filling with tears. “Priest will be fine, but he wouldn’t say no to you taking care of him, giving him a little extra TLC.” I waggle my brows, and she brightens up some.
“Let me talk to Carl and grab my stuff.”
My brow raises because how dare anyone tell her no about leaving. She drops a kiss on my cheek and runs to the back. Only a couple of minutes pass before she’s back out front and ready to leave with me.
Before we settle on my bike, parked out front, she puts a hand on my arm and asks, “What happened to him?” Her vulnerable tone is filled with more fear than it needs to be.
“A bullet grazed his calf. He’s stitched up now and just fine, but he’s going to milk this shit just to get all your attention.” Her tension lessens, but she’s still unsure. “You’ll see for yourself.”
“He’s really fine?” Her chin trembles slightly, afraid to believe me.
