The Consequence of Revenge

“Hey, girls.” I waved and shoved my hands in my pockets, then tripped on purpose, nearly landing on the first girl’s lap. “S-sorry.”

“Aww, do you have a stutter?” She asked. Well, that was bold.

“O-only when I’m n-n-n-ne . . .” I looked away. “N-n-nervous.”

“Oh!” She grabbed my hand and pressed it to her chest. Mighty Max did a little happy jump. “You’re just the sweetest!”

“Thank you.” Well, here went nothing. “By the way, my hands are freezing cold, as you can tell, could you warm them for me?”

The smile froze on her face.

Mighty Max stopped rejoicing and took the protective stance.

“Sure.”

“What?” I almost choked on my tongue.

“Yup.” She leaned forward, sliding my palms downward, and then beer went flying in my face. Ah, there it is.

With a nod and a salute I walked off and returned to the bar, where Colt was taking shots like there was going to be a tequila shortage and Jason was alternating between rubbing his jaw and holding ice against it.

“You all lose.” Milo shook her head. “Congrats, you’re all losers. Can we please go home now?”

“Never!” I slammed the table with my hand and winced when a peanut lodged itself between my fingers, then went flying into the bartender’s face.

Okay, so maybe we’d need to go to a different bar now.

Cold air bit me on the ass as the door opened.

Jason smirked.

Colt laughed.

And Milo sighed happily.

Damn it.

I turned and came face-to-face with my brother.

“What the hell are you doing here?” I asked, eyes narrowing. He’d been visiting a lot recently, which was shocking considering he was still in therapy over Jason’s grandmother feeling him up in his special place. Thrice.

“Colt texted me.” He licked his lips. “One-liners, huh? Seems you guys have the worst luck in the world. Watch and learn.”

“Cheater!” I yelled. “No Reids allowed! It says so in the rules.”

Reid rolled his eyes.

“Aw, let him.” Milo laughed. “This will be the most entertainment I’ve had in months.”

“No!” I nudged Milo. “You don’t understand, women seriously strip in his presence, one time an old lady passed out and he gave her CPR thinking she was dying and she grabbed him by the neck and didn’t let go. She did it on purpose. On purpose, Milo!”

Milo rolled her eyes.

“Reid, tell her!”

Reid just shrugged while the guys stared at him like he was some sort of magic sex god.

“It’s true.” Reid sighed. “Women tend to get . . . feisty when I’m around.”

“Please.” I rolled my eyes. “Last summer a chick rubbed up against you and said, ‘Baby me.’ Pretty sure you’d make a killing just getting women pregnant if you ever felt so inclined.”

“Something’s wrong with you guys.” Jason shook his head. “No, seriously. Something is very wrong.”

“Whatever.” Reid reached behind Milo and popped something in his mouth, then cracked his knuckles and walked up to the first few women he saw.

“Uh-oh.” Milo gasped.

“My thoughts exactly.” I groaned as both women started playing with Reid’s collar and then rubbed up against him.

“No, not that.” She held out the bag of gummy bears. “He took a handful. I’d pulled them out of my purse to throw them away.”

“Well, shit.” I chuckled.

“Ha, oh, believe me.” Colt sighed. “He’ll be doing plenty of that in a few minutes.”

CHAPTER SIX

MAX

I would be a bad brother if I didn’t actually stay in that bar and wait for Reid to shit his pants. I mean, I could have left him! Instead, like a freaking saint, I waited by the bar while Reid worked his magic.

“Any minute now.” I crossed my arms and chuckled as Reid suddenly froze and did a little headshake as if clearing cobwebs—or perhaps gummy bears. “I wonder how many you have to eat. What’s the brand again, Milo?”

She told me.

I searched my phone.

Bingo.

A grin that I’m sure looked a hell of a lot like the Cheshire cat’s spread across my face as I read customer reviews, or as I’d like to call them, stories from hell.

“How many he take?” I asked casually.

“Like ten.” Milo shrugged.

Laughing, I watched Reid start to back away from the women. Their faces fell—rejection washed over their features. Reid stumbled back, his face flushed red. And then he made a beeline toward us.

“I have to go!” he all but shouted. “I don’t think I can drive, I don’t think . . .” He winced and held his stomach.

“You sound like you’re giving birth to a goat.” I chuckled as another sound a bit like a shriek emerged from Reid’s mouth.

“Why me?” he asked aloud. “Why is it always me?”

“Um.” Jason raised his hand. “To be fair, it’s like we row the same boat, Reid. You deal with emotional attacks from elderly ladies and I get straight-up attacked, only I’m pretty sure I’d rather be physically injured than deal with lusty grandmothers and intestinal gas brought on by sugar-free gummy bears.”

“I’m allergic”—Reid’s eyes widened—“to anything sugar-free.”