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“Get a good sleep on those trash bags?”Dax.
Light invades my eyes through my slitted lids, causing me to groan as they begin to walk me up what appears to be an alleyway full of giant trash containers.
“Where the hell are your shoes?” Logan asks.
I grunt and drop my head to look at my bare feet as hazy memories of the previous night come to me in broken flashes.
“The ugly one took them after I made his nose bleed and called him a cunt. Pretty sure he didn’t like it.”
“No shit, Sherlock. You might want to reconsider next time you pick a fight with two giant fuckers on your own.” Dax chuckles.
“Hey. Gang’s all here. Now we can party. I’m guessing you heard the news?” I say as I try to smile at Tanner when he appears in my line of sight with a grim expression.
My lip burns and something warm and sticky runs from it down my chin.
“He’s still pissed,” Tanner gripes, looking from Dax and then to Logan. “Let’s get him in the car and take him home to sober up.”
“I don’t need a babysitter,” I groan before promptly vomiting all over my bare feet as well as Logan’s and Dax’s shoes.
Logan retches, and Dax curses.
Tanner walks over and pats me on the cheek. “Course you don’t, princess. But you got three. So wind your neck in.”
I scowl at him. “How’d you fuckers find me?”
He looks into my one open eye. The other’s swelled shut and now that I’m awake, it’s throbbing like a bitch.
He blows out a breath. “Sophie.”
“Sophie?” My voice wavers and I let out a pathetic whimper, followed by a belch.
“Throw up on my shoes again and I’ll drop you. You’re already replacing these ones,” Logan grumbles.
But his and Dax’s grips around my torso tighten as Tanner gives me a tight smile.
“She called us. She was worried you were going to go and murder your father and get your ass slung in jail,” Tanner comments.
I open my mouth and turn to Dax but the look in his eyes kills the joke I was about to make.
“Didn’t think you’d be stupid enough to come out and pick a fight with two cage fighters,” Tanner mumbles.
I chuckle, but it makes my ribs feel like they’re being snapped apart like a wishbone at a roast dinner. Those guys were huge. At least their fists were when they connected with my face.
“How’d you know that?” Logan asks Tanner.
“Guy inside said.” Tanner tips his head toward the wall of the alley. “This bar’s their usual hang out.”
“At least you aren’t punching me this time.” Logan snorts.
“You sure picked well,” Dax says, sounding impressed as he and Logan continue to walk me toward Tanner’s waiting car.
I sure did.
Dax is the one most likely to understand that need for blood. He’s been there himself. It’s how he ended up in jail for three years before he met Rose.
I knew where I was headed the second I left Sophie’s last night. I waited until she was asleep, and then I went in search of the only thing I knew would numb the pain.
Alcohol and punching.And being punched.
