Page 73 of On The Rocks

It wouldn’t hurt to have them onside.

“Maybe it would be worth me having a chat with whoever organizes their security,” Donovan muttered, his mind obviously on the same page as mine. “Look how his men are all strategically placed around the room.”

“You’ve noticed, too,” I replied, my stare automatically going to check on Maeve who was in the thick of the crowd.

My mouth hitched when I saw her dancing with Kennedy. She didn’t have the finesse of Breaker’s woman whose body flowed like liquid as she danced, but then my Maeve wasn’t an ex-Vegas stripper, thank fuck, seeing as my brain felt like it would explode at the mere thought of anyone but me seeing her beautiful body.

My wife was lit up from the inside out. The pure happiness radiating from her face made my heart feel light. She was bouncing around, having fun and laughing, and it was a joy to behold how carefree she looked. She looked so pretty with her hair all soft and her glassy red lips. Her confidence, although still understated, had grown since she’d been here. She seemed to love her work in the distillery and felt as if she fit in at last. Maeve’s light shone so damned brightly that it hurt my eyes to look at her sometimes.

My throat thickened because I’d almost missed out on it. It was crazy how deeply nerdy little Maeve Monroe had burrowed under my skin with every wondrous look, every beaming smile, and every peal of laughter. I loved the way her cosmic eyes widened whenever she breathed how awesome something was and how she looked at me like I was the only man who existed. My wifey had dug deep into my soul and taken hold of me.

Until Maeve, I’d lived my life in perpetual darkness. Then, I’d been so wrapped up in grief for Da and fear of the unknown that I didn’t want to see everything she was and everything she could be to me, and I could’ve kicked myself for wasting so much goddamned time. If I’d just listened toAthairyears ago, she’d be mine already, but now, because of my own bullshit preconceptions, I still had work to do to make her believe I was solid.

My smile stretched into a wide grin as I watched my wife dance. The song played out and she stopped jumping around and started clapping while staring at the stage where Carbine’s mouth rested by the microphone.

“Thank you, folks,” he murmured. “We’re gonna up the pace a little more now. This is our take on a popular one. Hope you like it.”

Griff began to slap out a sweet bassline, putting his entire body into it. After a few beats, Blue came in with the heavythumping riff of Hozier’s “Too Sweet.” It was harder and faster than the original, with a funk vibe from the slap of the bass in the background. Then Carbine pulled his guitar around from his back, strumming hard as he began to sing the words.

A loud roar went up, and the crowd started to jump up and down as one, yelling the lyrics along with him.

That was when the hair on the back of my neck stood up, and a bad feeling filled my gut.

Years of running a bar had given me a sixth sense for trouble, or at least the fuckers who caused it. I could feel a bad vibe fill the room, and going by the way Breaker and Atlas were scanning the crowd, they felt it, too.

“Nine o’clock,” Donovan muttered, jerking his head.

My eyes slid left and narrowed when I saw a group of six men swaggering around the edge of the space where everyone was dancing. They reminded me of a pack of wolves looking for an easy kill. They had bullies written all over them, and I doubted they’d move that way if they were solo, but then didn’t assholes like that always move in groups? They only had strength in numbers.

Some dude—not a KOA member going by his clothes—staggered drunkenly into their path. The fucker leading the pack grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and tossed him into a group of women who were dancing close. The girls scattered, teetering on their heels, and squealed as one of them lost her balance and fell to her knees.

A few of the Kings of Anarchy boys clocked it immediately and started to move in.

The punks moved into the crowds on the dance floor, taunting and shoulder-checking people as they went. One of them shoved past one of the KOA club girls and squeezed her ass roughly.

She glanced behind her and glared.

I saw the instant asshole number one caught sight of Kennedy, Soph, and Maeve because he changed trajectory and headed straight for our women, pointing them out to his fuckwit buddies.

“Oh fuck,” Atlas muttered, putting his bottle down and making his move.

“Maeve!” I shouted, dropping my beer onto the table and following Atlas, all while trying to get her attention to warn her, but my shouts were drowned out by the wailing of Dischordium’s guitars.

Helplessly, I looked on as the assholes got closer. They had the advantage because the people dancing saw them coming and moved out of their way. We were trying to be more respectful, though I could see Atlas getting more frustrated by the second. He started to move people bodily away from him, clearing a path for us as we tried to forge through to our women.

“Stitch!” he yelled.

Sophie whirled around, caught the jerk of his head, and immediately followed his eyes. She grabbed Kennedy to whisper something, then clasped Maeve’s shoulder to do the same. Our girls turned to make their escape, but by then, the assholes were already in their space.

One of the guys grabbed Kennedy’s arm and dragged her back into his body, jeering as he pulled her in close.

I saw Sophie shout something at Ned, who pulled her elbow forward and launched it back into the dude’s solar plexus while simultaneously stamping on his foot with the spike of her heel.

The fucker bent double, yowling in pain.

Within seconds, Sophie stood in front of Ned in a defensive stance.

Maeve looked around, her face twisted in confusion, which was why she missed the ringleader getting close enough to crowdher body from behind. Then I caught him grabbing my woman’s breast, and he laughed as he jeered at her.

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