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“Okay, so who is the oldest? Remy, right?”
“Yep.” I nodded. “It goes Remy, Flynn, Ty, Jude, then me.”
“Jude is like a light-haired Thatch,” Georgia commented on a snort, and I grinned.
“He’s definitely the wildest of the bunch. Always the jokester. Always the life of the party. Always the one stirring up trouble. Although Ty isn’t too far behind him.”
Cassie waggled her brows. “I bet Jude is a total playa player, with a revolving door of women. He looks like he fucks like a god.”
I cringed. “I refuse to even acknowledge what you just said. Thinking about my brother,anyof my brothers, having sex is a line I will not cross.” Frankly, I’d witnessed enough of them in inappropriate sexual acts in public places over the years to earn more than my fair share of nightmares.
Cassie just smirked like the devil, her mouth already locked and loaded with God knows what, but thankfully, the sound of her phone chiming derailed her train of thought.
She glanced at the screen, and her eyes lit up. “Speaking of Thatch… He says, ‘What are you doing, Crazy? Is Ace asleep? How are my tits? Do they miss me?’”
“Are they still at the bar watching the fight?” Georgia asked as Cassie typed out a response.
“I think so, but they won’t be for long.”
I furrowed my brow. “What do you mean?”
“I’m sending them somewhere else.”
Georgia looked at me, her eyes wide with confusion, then back at Cassie. “What are you talking about?”
“This,” she said and held up the screen of her phone to reveal her response.
Apparently, there’s a killer party going on at the New Continental Hotel. Pretty sure that’s close to where you guys are. First three drinks are on the house, plus there’s live music.
“What is that?” I asked, and her face morphed into a mischievous smile.
“It’s a prank I’ve been waiting to unload on my husband for a long time now, and if I’m gonna give in and pop my pussy tonight like you whores suggested, he’s going to have to earn it.”
“Don’t tell me that hotel is, like, some kind of brothel,” Georgia exclaimed squeamishly, and Cassie laughed.
“Don’t worry, G. I didn’t send your precious Big Dick to a brothel,” she retorted. “Plus, it’s not like he’d ever go for something like that. He’s too in love with his beautiful wife.”
“Damn straight,” Georgia agreed. “But seriously, what is at that hotel?”
Cassie grinned. “Don’t worry, you’ll find out soon enough.”
“One-hit knockout,” Jude taunted as he got out of Thatch’s SUV, swinging his fist in an air punch. “How about that, Ty?”
Ty tried to ignore him, but Jude was a lot like my best friend Thatch—a walking, talking fucking parasite you couldn’t get rid of—and his air punch might as well have landed square in the middle of Ty’s stomach for how it felt.
“I mean, I know I said Marullo would own Lackey’s ass, but I didn’t realize just how much he’d own his ass, you know?” Jude continued as he met Ty at the front of the car, wrapping his arm around Ty’s shoulders with a jovial, shit-eating grin. “I bet you’re feeling pretty salty now after calling my bluff and wagering two hundo on Lackey, huh?”
“You’re such a dick.” Ty shoved him off on a laugh. “And I’m a fucking moron for even humoring your stupid bet.”
“Moron or not,” Thatch mused with a smirk, “you did make me realize that the next time I go to Vegas, Jude is coming with.”
I shook my head on a chuckle. “The two of you fuckers in Vegas is not a good plan for anyone.”
“Pretty sure when you say, not a good plan, you mean a fan-fluffing-tastic plan, Wesley.”
“Nope,” I refuted. “I meant horrible plan.Terribleplan. One you should only do if you want to end up in a Las Vegas jail with a man named Sparky trying to stick his dick in your pretty mouth every five seconds.”
Jude waggled his brows. “I’d do a night with Sparky if it meant I got to keep all the money Thatch and I would win.”
