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I could practically see the regret written all over him.
“Shit.” Fang took his wallet from the inside of his jacket and took out a few bills. “Pix. Pour the man another drink. Top shelf. On me.”
I grabbed a bottle of bourbon and poured two shots. One from Fang. One from me. ’Cause that was a lot of pain that had just come tumbling out of his mouth.
Vaughn slumped on his stool and accepted the drinks. “Thanks.”
He knocked them back in quick succession. “Just so you know, I didn’t tell you that so you’d feel sorry for me.”
I did anyway. At least a little bit.
Vaughn finally met my gaze. “I just wanted you to know I’m not a cheater. I saw how badly my mom’s infidelity hurt my dad. I wouldn’t do that.”
I shrugged. “My opinion of you doesn’t matter. I wasn’t judging you.”
My digs about his wife came from somewhere else entirely. A place that felt a lot like jealousy.
Fang pulled him up from the bar. “Let’s go get you laid, brother. ’Cause after that story, I think you need it. We’ll wait for you in the parking lot, Pix.”
The two men walked out side by side, Vaughn glancing back over his shoulder at me.
I looked away. “Great,” I muttered to the rapidly emptying bar. “Now they’re buddies, and I get to go watch my stepbrother score. Just how I wanted to end the night.”
22
REBEL
We drove in a parade from Psychos to the clubhouse. First Fang and his guys on their bikes, then me in my car, and Vaughn in his. I mostly kept my eyes glued to Fang’s broad shoulders leaning over the handles of the bike in front of me. He looked damn fucking good like that, his waist narrow, jeans tight around his perfect ass. His hair was wrapped in a tie at the nape of his neck, the long lengths bundled up into a bun, and I itched to take it out and run my fingers through it.
That was where my attention should have stayed.
Except every few miles, I glanced back at Vaughn, driving his father’s car.
A tingle of anticipation wormed its way through me. I was suddenly sure bringing Vaughn here was a very bad idea. But he’d promised to take me to a party, so tit for tat, I guess.
Fang circled around to wait for us to pass through the heavy steel gates with the Slayers’ logo in the middle, before closing them behind us. In my rearview mirror, Vaughn glanced all around. I wondered if he was slightly panicked about being out here in the middle of the woods, surrounded by fences too tall to jump.
Nobody got in or out unless the Slayers approved it.
I parked my car in the farthest spot from the door, knowing the guys parked their bikes in the prime positions. Vaughn was smart enough to park next to me. He got out, and I met him at the front of our vehicles.
He squinted at the building in the darkness. “You seriously hang out here? It’s a prison block.”
The clubhouse was ugly. Squat and rectangular. Industrial.
I linked my arm through his. “I do sometimes. I like it. You probably won’t, but I do.”
“Why wouldn’t I like it?”
I shrugged, leading him toward the doors where Fang was waiting. “This isn’t a Providence party, Vaughn. Ain’t nobody here sitting around discussing their trust funds or holiday homes like you’re probably used to.”
“Do you really think I’m that boring?”
I shrugged with a grin. “We don’t call you guys the Providence Pod People for nothing.”
He turned to Fang, untangling himself from my hold. “I can’t deal with her. Introduce me to your friends?” His gaze landed on Kiki and Amber, two of the regulars who liked to hang out at the club. “Especially them.”
I rolled my eyes. “How predictable.”