Page 19 of Forgotten Comeback (Parisi Family #5)

Chapter

Eighteen

Taylor

“Eight hundred. Nine hundred. One thousand.” The man with the headset counts out my cash.

It’s hard trying to act professional when my bikini bottom’s digging into my ass crack, but I smile politely. “Thanks.” I fold the money and put it in my purse, walking to the ladies’ restroom with an uncomfortable wedgie.

I change quickly and take a much needed toilet break before washing up. Opening the door with a wadded paper towel, I toss it in the trash before stepping into the hallway.

Two men appear, blocking my path.

There’s no one else in the hallway, and a wave of unease rolls through me. “Excuse me,” I say firmly.

“Come with us.”

“Why?” My body’s on high alert now.

“Mike wants to meet you,” one of the men says, and I recognize him from the Hammer’s entourage.

I smile politely, trying to downplay my skittering pulse. “No thanks.”

Both men move their jackets, showing off their holstered guns.

“Um, yeah. Okay. Let me go to the bathroom first—”

“You were just in the bathroom.” One of the men grabs me by the elbow, and Gavin appears out of nowhere, hitting the man in the head with a hammer. The man crumbles to the ground, and the other man spins around in time for the hammer to connect with his temple; he lands on top of his buddy.

“Oh my God!” I throw my hands over my mouth.

“Not your God, but your knight in shining armor, mi lady.” Gavin bows dramatically.

“You’re a fucking psychopath!”

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 the problem is 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.

“Just to warn you, he’s a complete twattwaffle,” the woman informs Taylor before storming off.

Taylor snorts a laugh, grabbing her chopsticks and bringing a California roll to her mouth.

“I love sushi, but whoever came up with the menu didn’t take into account bare-knuckle boxing.” I hold up my swollen right fist.

“Is this your attempt to get me to feed you?” Taylor says, popping another piece in her mouth with her chopsticks.

“Is it working?” I flash a playful grin.

“No,” she tells me flatly.

My left hand is soaking in the ice bucket, so I attempt to break apart the chopsticks with only my right. They snap clean in two.

Taylor sighs heavily. Scooting over, she uses her chopsticks, grabbing a sushi roll and bringing it to my mouth.

I accept the bite, chewing as I watch this cold, prickly woman take care of me.

Taylor’s a study in contradictions, and for the first time in my life, I find myself interested in becoming a student.

Bree/Brit slams the ice bucket down on the table before storming off.

“Is there a woman in this place you haven’t fucked?” Taylor raises an eyebrow as I submerge my other fist into the ice bucket.

I look pointedly at her.

“And you’d best believe we’re keeping it that way,” she drawls. “What did you want to talk to me about?”

“One more, please.” I nod to the plate.

She rolls her eyes, but feeds me another bite with the chopsticks.

I chew slowly, buying time so that I can come up with an answer. Not finding one, I swallow before asking, “How is it you got roped into being the ring girl?”

“The ring girl was a no-show, and I had the proper equipment,” Taylor says dryly. “How is it you got roped into such a barbaric sport?”

“Purest form of combat sport there is,” I tell her.

Taylor shakes her head. “Lions and chariots, the only things missing.”

“Maybe it’s the blows to the head, but I don’t get it,” I admit.

Her lips quirk. “Roman colosseum reference.”

A grin stretches across my face. “Admit that you liked it. The showmanship. The excitement. The adrenaline.”

“The blood?” she interjects.

“Got a taste of bloodlust, and you liked it, huh, man-eater? I bet that pains your little feminist heart,” I taunt.

“The only one in pain here is the man who can’t feed himself,” she retorts.

We’ve somehow scooted closer, inches separating us. “My knuckles are jacked up, but my tongue works just fine. I’d happily feed myself on your cunt and go back for seconds,” I promise her.

“What would Mia say about that?” Taylor demands.

“Don’t know. Don’t care. We haven’t spoken since—”

“You fucked her behind my back?” Taylor fills in for me.

“Are we still on that?” I sigh.

“Yeah, we’re still on that,” she says coolly.

“Let me eat your pussy and make it up to you,” I offer.

Taylor wrinkles her nose. “No thanks. I’ve seen your oral skills, or lack thereof.”

No longer feeling my hands, I pull them out of the buckets, drying them off with a napkin. “Tell me it doesn’t make you wet thinking about that night. And I’m not talking about Mia. I’m talking about you and me. God, you were so sexy, rubbing that pussy so damn good, watching me fuck my hand.”

“It doesn’t make me wet,” she says in a bored tone, but her nipples are poking through her dress.

“Liar. Take off your panties and prove it,” I challenge.

“I don’t have to prove anything to you, Gavin,” Taylor says haughtily.

“Buck-buck-buck.” I flap my arms.