Fighting Fate (Fighting #7)(63)

What kind of woman would lie about being pregnant just to lockdown a man?

He steps in close. “You saw me with another girl and flipped out. I get it. You’re jealous and pissed off. But I’m not stupid enough to fall for this, Elle.”

“This was a mistake,” I whisper.

“Aww, see? She does have a brain.” He laughs and the door behind him swings open to reveal a gorgeous blonde I recognize from all his parties.

She’s wearing a tiny silver dress, heels hooked with two fingers, and there’s dark around her eyes from what I’d guess to be last night’s makeup. Clifford hooks her around the waist and tilts his head, slamming his lips on hers.

I stumble back, my hands tangled in my sweatshirt to keep them from wrapping around Clifford’s neck.

Blake pushes up behind me, wrapping his arm around my shoulders. “Time to go, kiddo. I think you got your answer.”

Both Clifford and his date stare down at me while Blake drags me to the car.

“What did she want?” His date snarls at me while speaking to him.

“Nothing important.”

It’s the last thing I hear before they disappear back inside and slam the door.

Nothing important.





Twenty-one





Killian





“Killer…”

My cheek stings and I’m jostled in my seat. “Hmm…”

“Wake up, dude. We’re landing.”

I force open my eyes and give my brain a second to catch up to my surroundings. Circular window. Tray table. And my mouth tastes like week old tequila and blue cheese. “Water.”

Rex hands me a bottle of water and rubs his temples with a groan. “Look out. My head might explode.”

I down the small water bottle and lick my lips. “How long was I out for?”

“No clue. Last thing I remember was being cut off by the flight attendant; then it was lights out.”

“Were we”—I search my foggy memory—“pirates…at one point?”

Rex’s eyebrows drop low in confusion, and then a slow smile spreads across his face. “Yeah, I was Captain Phallus, Lord of the Deep, and you were—”

“Captain Flaccid, Ruler of the Impototonuis.” I punch the * in the bicep. “Fuck you very much for the title, dickhead.”

He rubs his arm, groaning and laughing at the same time. “You weren’t complaining when you were using your swizzle stick as a sword in search for the rare jewel viagranite.”

I burst into laughter, and even though my head feels like it’s being pounded by a jackhammer, it feels good to laugh. “Can’t imagine why they cut us off.”

I flag down the flight attendant for two more waters, and when he delivers them, I catch the look of irritation that flashes in his eyes. I accept the waters politely and gratefully and suck them back. The passengers seated around us shoot weary glances in our direction.

Safe to say we didn’t make any friends on this flight.

~~~

By the time we move through customs, it’s after midnight London time. Having slept for somewhere in the vicinity of six hours and it being around five o’clock at night in Vegas, my stomach growls for some grub.

“Any chance London has a Denny’s?” I hike my duffle further up on my shoulder, following Rex through the glass doors that lead outside. Freezing air hits my face to knock off the lingering hangover. I’m grateful I followed Rex’s advice to pull out a sweatshirt earlier. It’s cold as shit.

“I’ll ask Caleb.” He squints against the freezing wind. “Fuck. I hate being cold. Gonna have to change my pirate name to Captain Shriveldick.”

I cough out a laugh and burrow deeper into my UFL sweatshirt. “He’d make a better sidekick to Lord Flaccid.”

He stops and glares at me. “I’m not your sidekick, dude. I’m the Batman to your Robin.”

“There’s no way Shriveldick trumps Flaccid. Think about it. Flaccid still has size, but lacks strength. Shrivel is… Well, he lacks everything.”

“Fuck that! Shrivel—”

“I thought the good ole US of A was sending me a couple of fighters, not two numbnuts discussin’ the attributes of their tiny peckers.”

Rex and I both turn toward the country twang to find Caleb standing there with his arms spread wide in greeting.

“Hole-ee-shit.” Rex infuses a very unnatural sounding country accent to his voice. “How the f*ck are you, man?” He wraps the big blond in a back-thumping hug.

“Can’t complain much.” He releases Rex and swings his gaze to me. “Fuckin’ A, you grew, boy!” He reaches out and shakes my hand. “Last time I saw you, you were”—he holds his hand up to his chest—“yay high.”

Rex slaps me in the chest. “Kid’s been working his ass off.”

He looks me up in down. “I can see that.” He flicks a finger toward my eye. “Who gave you the shiner?”

My heart thuds at the reminder. I push the unwelcome feelings back. “Blake.”

Caleb grins. “Very nice.”

“Any chance we can finish this get-to-know-ya somewhere with a heater?” Rex’s gaze takes in our surroundings. “And less wet.”