Addicted (Outlaws Book 2) by Elle Kennedy Page A

Randy on the shoulder, unable to fight the pride in his chest. “Okay, time to get back to work. You can cheer me on while I kick Kade’s ass.”
    As they walked back to the fighting area, Kade’s low, knowing voice met Lennox’s ears. “You should take your own advice.”
    Randy kept walking, but Lennox stopped, warily turning toward the other man. “What the hell does that mean?”
    “It means I’m not as oblivious as everyone thinks.” Kade offered a wry smile. “You want her, Len.”
    He decided to play dumb. “Who?”
    “You know who.” Kade went quiet for a beat. “I’m not sure what’s holding you back, but whatever it is, I doubt it’s as bad as you think, man. Life’s too short, remember?”
    Lennox gritted his teeth as the other man threw his own words back at him, but for the first time in his life, he didn’t have a sarcastic retort or a careless remark to toss back.
     
    “A bunch of pussies, that’s what they are,” Rylan announced, his irritated voice echoing in the cavernous loft that Beckett and Travis shared.
    Lennox had to grin at the disgust twisting the other man’s handsome features. It was rare to see Rylan drop his careless facade, but clearly the day’s training had gotten to him. Lennox didn’t blame him – there
had
been a shit ton of complaints floating through Foxworth these past four days.
    Rylan turned the bone-handle knife in his hand a few times as he studied the wooden beam ten feet away. “One kid said he had a sore
finger
from pulling the trigger so many times. Can you fucking believe that?”
    With a look of sheer disbelief, he gripped the handle so his thumb was pressed to its side, pulled his arm back, and lunged forward to hurl the knife.
    The blade hit the beam with a
ping
but didn’t connect with the wood, instead clattering to the weathered hardwood floor.
    “Miss!” Beckett crowed. “You’re up, Len.”
    Lennox studied his target, a wooden post that extended from floor to ceiling and was about a foot wide. The loft had an open-concept setup, with brick walls, exposed beams, and rusted piping. Beck and Travis’s sleeping quarters were on one side of the room, while the other end featured couches, a bar area, and plenty of space for the night’s activity – knife throwing.
    It was a small crowd tonight, not a party by any means, unless you counted the private party currently happening on a nearby couch. The two half-naked women tangled together there were drawing more than a few lustful glances from the knife-wielding men.
    Lennox took a step back. Then another, this one at a forty-five-degree angle to his right. A second later, he wound his arm back and released the blade of the hunting knife when it was vertical to his target. The blade sliced into the wood as if the post were made of soft butter.
    “Hit!” Beck exclaimed. He passed over the whiskey bottle so Lennox could take a swig.
    Shit, he really wished he wasn’t so good at this game. The rules were rather ridiculous – instead of taking a shot each time he missed, the thrower drank when he hit his mark. Lennox wasn’t sure who came up with that, but it definitely wasn’t to his advantage. He was very, very good with a knife. Which meant he was going to get very, very drunk tonight.
    Behind him, Rylan was still griping about the gripers. “And that guy that helps Graham in the kitchen? He said he’s sitting out tomorrow because squinting at the targets hurts his
eyes
. What the hell is wrong with these people? I’ve never met a more pathetic, sheltered crowd.”
    Pike took his turn, then tipped the bottle to his lips after his knife hit its mark. “There are some pretty decent fighters in the afternoon group,” he relented. “That chick Sam got me under her today.”
    Rylan hooted. “Bullshit. You
let
her do that because you wanted her under you. You’re gonna be balls deep in that one tonight, brother.”
    Pike didn’t deny it.
    “Sam’s a wildcat in bed,” Beckett