Addicted (Outlaws Book 2) by Elle Kennedy Page B

revealed with a grin. “She’ll scratch and claw the hell outta you.”
    Pike looked intrigued, and Lennox tried not to roll his eyes. The bastard got off on sex with a side of violence. Shocker.
    “Seriously, though,” Rylan said, his face growing strained again. “What do we do about these fuckers? I don’t think I can deal with another three weeks of this bullshit complaining. You’d think we’re doing them a disservice or something.” Sarcasm dripped from his tone. “Gee, assholes,
so
sorry we’re teaching you how to defend yourselves. Ungrateful pricks.”
    Lennox snickered. It was his turn to throw again. He let the knife fly, then watched as it pinged off the post and bounced on the floor. Thank fuck. He’d hit his last seven targets, and his head was starting to feel foggy from the subsequent whiskey shots. But not foggy enough to stop an idea from forming.
    “This is what you should do,” he told Rylan, then nodded toward Beckett, who was flipping his knife in his left hand.
    Rylan snorted. “What, throw knives at their heads and scare them into submission?”
    “Make it fun. Turn it into a game.” Lennox paused as he worked over the details. “No, a competition. Split them up into teams and have them go up against each other. You can award points or some shit. Give ’em prizes.”
    “That’s not a bad idea,” Rylan said slowly.
    “Could work,” Pike grunted. “Might shut them up.”
    Rylan taunted his friend. “Thought their bitching didn’t bother you…”
    “No, it’s fucking annoying, bro. I just don’t see the point in bitching about the bitching.”
    Lennox laughed.
    “Up again, Len,” Beckett said.
    Crap. He was getting too drunk for this. Might need to bow out of the game soon, unless he wanted to explain to Reese why he’d accidentally flung a knife at one of her people’s throats.
    Judging the distance to the post was getting difficult, thanks to his alcohol-hazed vision. Even as he took his shot, he had no idea if he’d moved far enough back for the knife to make a complete rotation, but to his dismay, the blade slammed into the post. Dead center.
    Beckett grinned at him. “Drink.”
    Eight shots in less than an hour. Jesus. He needed to slow down.
    Ten drinks and Len does something crazy
…
 
    Jamie’s teasing comment from the other day buzzed in his mind, summoning a strangled laugh. She was right – excessive drinking screwed with his head. Damn woman knew him too damn well.
    The men went another round, which, unfortunately, led to Lennox slugging back his ninth shot of whiskey.
    When it was Rylan’s turn, the man grumbled, “I am not as drunk as I need to be. Swear to God, I’m taking a drink even if I miss this —”
    No sooner had the words left his mouth than a knife whizzed through the air from behind him. The blade nearly clipped Rylan’s ear off before connecting with the beam he’d been aiming for. The steel vibrated wildly as it lodged itself into the wood.
    Everyone turned to see who had launched the blade, and Lennox snickered when he spotted Reese and Jamie. The women were standing by the door thirty feet away. Reese was clearly the perpetrator, because she gave Rylan a dainty little wave, which only made Lennox laugh harder.
    “I see you haven’t won her over yet,” he said.
    Rylan just grinned. “The night’s still young.”
    Across the room, Reese arched one eyebrow. “Pike, Rylan,” she called out. “I need to talk to you.”
    The two men wasted no time walking over to her. A moment later, the trio left the loft while Jamie wandered over to the group. She stopped to kiss both Lennox and Beckett on the cheek, then headed for the tall table that served as a makeshift bar counter. Lennox watched as she poured herself a drink and stood close to Travis, who wrapped one muscular arm around her shoulders and whispered something in her ear.
    “Game over?” Beckett asked him.
    “Fuck yes.” Shit, was he slurring? “I haven’t been this