Chapter 1
Kian
“Dude. Close your fucking laptop before I throw it off the roof.” My younger brother, Beckett, scowls at me as he stands in my office, his arms crossed over his chest. “You bailed out of last night because you were tired, but let’s be honest, you probably went back to the office.”
Cash chuckles and nods. “Wouldn’t surprise me.”
I stare at the numbers on the screen in front of me.
“Someone’s got to keep this empire running.
Cash is usually too busy at one of the Kingston properties, following his wife around to make sure no other man talks to her, while Xander sits in the bar, watching Quinn like a fucking stalker all the time. ”
Beckett bursts out laughing and holds out his fist to me. I tap mine on it and smirk at Cash and Xander, who both flip me off. They know it’s true. Those dickheads are so fucking obsessed with their women, it’s a miracle if I see them in the office once a week anymore.
“He’s jealous because we’re getting fucked regularly and he’s not,” Cash says with a teasing grin.
I shoot him a look and then roll my eyes. I hate that what he said is completely true.
I stare at the tattooed letters, ACE, on the fingers of my left hand as I rest them on the keyboard of my computer. Sitting back, I rub my forehead. I can’t remember the last time I had sex. Or the last time it felt satisfying in a way that made me want to even pursue it.
“It’s your thirty-eighth birthday. Get your ass up and let’s fucking go. Jesus. When did you turn eighty?” Beckett yells and slams my laptop closed.
Running my fingers through my hair, I sigh. I can usually weasel my way out of going to the club with Beckett, especially since Caleb is willing to go with him most of the time, but there’s no way in hell they’re not going to force me to celebrate my birthday.
Fucking bastards.
I rise and motion for my brothers to go ahead. “Fine. Let’s fucking go. I don’t see why we couldn’t have had a simple fucking dinner at Cash or Xander’s house.”
Cash laughs. “Because I’m not about to let my wife cook another man’s birthday dinner. Besides, we’re having family dinner tomorrow, and it’s being catered. Remember?”
Xander grunts in agreement, and all I can do is shake my head because, Jesus Christ. Those two are so gone for their women. The second Jordyn and Quinn walked into their lives, they lost their fucking minds. I love them, but they’re idiots.
“Speaking of, where are your women?” I ask.
“They are being escorted to the club by Caleb and Roman,” Xander announces as he looks at his phone. I glance at his screen, and he has a map pulled up with a small moving dot on it. He’s checking Quinn’s location.
“You need help, bro,” I tell him as we bump shoulders.
He looks up at me and smirks. “I already go to therapy, and I gave up alcohol. That’s as much self-growth as I’m willing to do, unless my wife says otherwise.”
I stare at him, totally speechless, as he goes back to watching Quinn’s moving location.
I guess it’s better that he be addicted to his wife than the bottle.
Besides, she’s pregnant, and I can’t imagine how much more protective that makes Xander feel.
Hell, I’m honestly surprised he’s letting her come to the club tonight.
Not that he’ll let her out of his sight.
Between Xander and her bodyguard, Roman, no one will be able to get within six feet of her.
We climb into a waiting SUV, and the driver takes off in the direction of the club while Beckett pulls a bottle of whiskey from the door panel bar and breaks the seal, then offers it to me.
“We shouldn’t drink in here. It’s too close to Xander,” I murmur.
Xander twists around to look at what I’m talking about, then shrugs. “Drink away. I don’t want any of that shit. It doesn’t bother me. I sit in Quinn’s bar every day, surrounded by alcohol. It doesn’t even faze me. The only drink I’m addicted to is her come.”
“For fuck’s sake,” I groan and finally take the bottle.
Xander chuckles, and when he turns back around, I take a long pull from it before I pass it back to Cash in the third row.
He smirks and points the bottle at me. “Happy birthday, bro. Here’s to your thirty-eighth year around the sun. I hope you learn to have a little fun this year.” Then he takes a drink and slides his sunglasses on, despite it being dark out. God, he’s such a fucking show off.
Glaring at him, I yank the whiskey out of his hands and have another gulp before I hand it to Beckett.
“I have fun, asshole. Just because I don’t party all the time, like this fuckface.” I motion toward Beckett. “Doesn’t mean I don’t have a good time. I’m always down for family dinners and shit.”
Cash snorts. “Yeah, because you’re going to meet the girl of your dreams at family dinner.”
I shake my head as the driver pulls up to the entry of one of the Kingston casinos, where the nightclub is.
It’s nearly eleven, but in Vegas, all that means is the evening is just getting started.
My door opens, and the valet attendant immediately recognizes us, his shoulders instantly straightening as his face goes pale. We have that effect on people. For various reasons.
“Sir,” he greets me and takes a step back to give me enough room to get out of the SUV.
My brothers told me in advance we were going out tonight, and even though I’d hoped to get out of it, I wore a jacket with my slacks and dress shirt, so I’d be a bit more dressed up for the occasion.
The four of us move throughout the casino as though we own the place. Patrons instantly step aside to let us through. Most of our tattoos are covered tonight, but they still peek out over our hands and necks, which can be even more threatening to some.
Smoke furls around us as we walk through the casino floor toward the club. As soon as we enter, a hostess approaches and welcomes us before leading us to our VIP section, although we already know exactly where it is.
This club plays more hip-hop and pop than EDM, which the girls like to dance to, so this is where we frequent when we all go out.
Jordyn is on her feet, dancing around the VIP section, and as soon as Cash lays eyes on her, he’s on her like a watchdog, despite her bodyguard staring at her from a distance.
I can’t help but grin, though, when I see how Jordyn jumps into her husband’s arms as soon as he’s close enough to catch her.
Quinn smiles at all of us as we approach. Roman, her bodyguard, nods in silent greeting while he continues to observe the surroundings for any kind of threat. We never expect any, but that doesn’t mean shit in our world.
“Happy birthday,” Quinn yells over the music as she rises to hug me.
Xander moves between us before she can, and it becomes an awkward three-person hug as my older brother glares at me and tries to pull his wife away.
I laugh and nod as a server hands me a drink. “You’re seriously jealous that your pregnant wife wants to hug me on my birthday?”
“What the fuck does she need to hug you for?” he asks as he sits on one of the couches and pulls her onto his lap.
Quinn smacks Xander’s chest and glares at him for about half a second before she grins and cuddles into his chest, like he’s her own personal body armor. As soon as she does, he meets my gaze and gives me a slow, smug smile before he flips me off.
“I’m so glad you brought me out to a club on my birthday so you two can snuggle.” I toss back the double shot in my glass and set it on a nearby table while Xander laughs.
Beckett throws his arm around my shoulder and pulls me toward the main part of the club. “Come on, man. It’s your fucking birthday, and you need to fucking act like it. Let’s get a drink.”
As soon as a server notices us, she walks away from her other customers mid-conversation to come take our order.
By the time we make it to an open standing table, she is back with three whiskeys.
Caleb joins us, and the three of us clink glasses before we down the expensive liquid.
This isn’t a sip-and-enjoy-it kind of night.
This is a, get fucked up and just go with it, night.
“I don’t care who the fuck you leave with, here’s a room key for the penthouse. You’re getting your ass laid tonight,” Beckett yells as he hands me a key card. “Just live, bro. Just fucking live for a night.”
I hold the slim plastic in my palm and stare at my baby brother, fighting the urge to leave. It’s not that I don’t like clubs. But I’d rather be here enjoying it, like Xander and Quinn are, instead of trying to find some strange person to fuck.
“Where’d Cash and Jordyn go?” I ask after a while. “I haven’t seen them since we got here.”
Caleb snorts. “They left to go up to a room about two minutes after you got here.”
Beckett and I both shake our heads, but we’re smiling.
We’re happy for our brothers finding their women.
Hell, we love Jordyn and Quinn. But damn, I can’t imagine being so unhinged and completely fucking obsessed with one person like they are.
It would be nice as hell, though, to feel something. Even if it is only for one night.
I let myself ease into it, slowly allowing the alcohol to relax me while I watch bodies moving on the dance floor.
When I check the VIP section, Xander and Quinn are no longer there, and I’d bet my entire fortune that he took her home for the night.
Beckett and Caleb are mid-conversation with a few women as I check my phone for anything pressing.
Beckett: Put your fucking phone away and stop checking on work. Have another drink.
I smirk when the text comes through and glance at Beckett before I slide my phone into my pocket and take off for the bar.
The music thumps, vibrating through my chest, as I pass by part of the dance floor, weaving through a sea of people.
A whiff of something sweet, yet gentle, makes me slow my step for just a second, looking around for wherever that smell is coming from.
It’s too dark in this area to see anything other than the neon-lit walls lined with hundreds of bottles of alcohol.
As soon as I approach the bar, one of the bartenders notices me and stops what he’s doing. “Evening, Mr. Savage. Whiskey neat?”
I meet his gaze and nod, then slide a hundred across to him. “Thank you.”
Sometimes, I feel guilty about the way people feel they need to act around us. We’re not terrible men, my brothers and I. We’re not great, either. But we’re loyal to a fault. If someone is good to us, we’re generally good to them.
The urge to pull my phone out and check my emails irritates me. Knowing Beckett will call me out on it if I do also pisses me off. Fucker notices too much. He plays dumb, but Beckett sees everything.
That soft, sweet scent hits me again, and the next thing the bartender says makes me go completely still.