Page 45 of Forgotten Comeback
His expression darkens. “Trust me, you don’t want to go to Mike’s dressing room. It’s rumored he doesn’t take no for an answer.” Gavin grabs one of the men’s feet. “Get the door for me,” he instructs, and I hold it open as he drags the first limp body into the bathroom, followed by the second. Gavin tosses the hammer in the bathroom before announcing, “Let’s get to the afterparty.”
I stand rooted in place.
“You want to hang here and see if Mike sends more of his armed entourage?” Gavin raises his left brow; the right side of his face can’t move, as it’s swollen from the fight.
“Let’s go.” I sigh.
He smiles triumphantly, grabbing my hand and pulling me along.
“So we’re just going to pretend that didn’t happen,” I hiss in his ear.
“Exactly.”
“What if they’re…you know.”Dead.
“Both men will have a hell of a headache come tomorrow morning, but that’s their problem.”
That reassures me somewhat as we walk down a labyrinth of a hallway, entering a lively bar.
I follow him to the blocked-off VIP section, and a bouncer opens the rope and ushers us in.
“Why don’t you grab something to eat, and I’ll score us a table,” Gavin tells me.
“What is it you’re trying to accomplish here?” I cross my arms and stare him down.
Gavin
What is it I’m trying to accomplish here?
Another good fucking question.
“I need to talk to you. Get some food, and then come join me.” I slide into an empty booth, signaling the server.
Taylor sighs, heading to the buffet, and I grab my phone and send Inferno a message.
Problem in the ladies’ room. ASAP.
I lied, not wanting to freak Taylor out, but theproblemis that both men are dead.
A woman clears her throat, and I look up from my phone.
Oh, shit. It’s Bree. Or is it Brit?
Either way, she looks like she wants to hit me over the head with the champagne bucket. Instead, she slams on the table.
“Hey, thanks. Can I get another bucket of ice?”
“Not even going to try to act like you know my name?” she spits.
“Um, yeah, that ice bucket.” I remove the champagne bottle, plunging my left fist into the makeshift ice bath.
“What’s my name?”
Bree. Brit. I still don’t fucking know?
“Beautiful?”
“You can’t go longer than five minutes without hitting on a woman.” Taylor returns with two plates, sliding one over to me with a judgmental look.
