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Come get us, darling.
Even if the screen hadn’t lit up with Sadie’s name, I would have known it was her. Few people knew my number, and even fewer used it.
I kicked my feet off the ottoman and pushed myself off the couch. I said goodbye to an exciting night of watching television. I quickly changed into a pair of gray pinstripe pants with a matching vest, a light green shirt, fresh socks, and black shoes.
Not that Sadie ever noticed, or if she did, she never let me know, but looking presentable was one of the many lessons instilled into me as a child. It was one of the few rules that had staying power.
Downstairs I stopped just inside the foyer and sent a text.
On my way.
Depending on how drunk Sadie was, she might forget she texted me until I showed up. Still, she called when she needed me, and I never left her hanging.
“Oliver.” I rapped on the window of the service garage on the property.
“What’s up, Thomas?”
I nodded to him, the signal that we needed to go. “Sadie and Kat. Drunk at a bar in Vegas.”
Oliver grabbed a set of keys, and I followed him to the dark blue SUV. “Which bar?”
“Panthers,” I grunted angrily. “Is that where you dropped them off this afternoon?”
“No, I took them to the Wynn for lunch and they told me to come back here until they needed me. Damn. The girls don’t fuck around.” He let out a low whistle as the car began to move. “Panthers. Sounds like trouble.”
“If we’re lucky, it’ll just be trouble.” The place drew bikers, mobsters, gangbangers and all the freelancers in the underworld. Of course, Sadie would choose a place like that to stop for a drink. No doubt it was her ego because, although Kat could be ruthless when necessary, she embraced the more refined aspects of being uber-rich.
“Step on it, would you?”
“Gladly.” Oliver drove faster, weaving through Las Vegas traffic until we arrived in the back parking lot of Panthers. “Need some company?”
“Nah, I have it covered. Keep the engine running, just in case.” The bar was dark and smoky, the music loud and the masses of people even louder still.
Yet, even through all the smoke, it wasn’t hard to find the two women decked out in designer clothes. They were a stark contrast to the skintight denim and black bustier bras worn instead of actual shirts, hair dyed to within an inch of its life and discount shoes.
I walked into bar to see Sadie and Kat receiving another round of drinks. Five feet from them, three bikers scanned the two obviously wealthy women, then nodded to each other as some sort of signal before approaching. I wondered if they had figured out they were mother and daughter. Frankly, in this light, they could pass for sisters.
One guy with a bald head and a leather MC vest put his hand on Kat’s shoulder. She grimaced and shrugged it off.
His meaty fist wrapped around her shoulder again, his brows knitted into a frown that said he was about to get aggressive. I was close enough to hear him snarl, “Think you’re too good for me, bitch? This is my place.”
Sadie’s laugh rang out, but it wasn’t her amused laughed or even her condescending laugh. Instead, it was her devious laugh.
“She doesn’t just think it, asshole. Sheisbetter than you.”
I knew what was about to happen, but I was too far away to do anything to stop it. Still, my feet carried me forward as fast as they could manage in the thick crowd.
“Didn’t your mother teach you to keep your hands to yourself before you lose them?”
The second man with long blond hair laughed. “Hear that, Grinder? The old bitch is giving us…ow! You fucking bitch!”
Sadie flashed a mischievous smile at the blond man’s cry of pain when she stuck her knife through the top of his hand. “With age comes wisdom, asshole.”
Then, for extra measure, she twisted the knife and stood over him, using both hands to free the blade from his mangled tendons and muscles.
Grinder, the bald fuck, was on Sadie in an instant, yanking her back by her hair and that small cry of pain, the only vulnerability she would allow, sent fire through my veins.
“You shouldn’t have done that, bitch.”
