The Groomsman: An Enemies-to-Lovers Romance (Billionaires of Club Tempest)

by Sloane Hunter

  Then he asked, more to the universe than to the man before us, “Twain?”

  13

  Mac

  Of all the people in all the places in all the world. Twain. Here. Listening to opera and yelling at me to get my ass in gear.

  The shock might have been enough to kill a weaker man. As for me, it merely left me stunned, foggy, seeing the world in slow-motion. But only for a moment.

  “Wait a minute—” Alice started. But there was no time for introductions or explanations.

  I grabbed her hand and pulled her toward the car. We jumped in, just as the gang members rallied, scraping themselves up off the pavement and coming again, screaming curses.

  Twain smashed the gas and tore down the street shouting insults in broken Spanish and English over his shoulder.

  “WHOOO HOOO!” he shouted once we were flying down the streets at breakneck pace, safe at last.

  “Twain,” I said, still reeling from his presence. And from the situation he’d just scooped us out of like the very hand of God.

  “I fucking hit those bastards a mile high!”

  “Twain?” Alice asked me. She knew the name, even if she’d never met the person. She sounded more than a little shell-shocked herself. I wanted to turn to her, make sure she was all right, but none of us were going to be if Twain drove us into a pole.

  “TWAIN!” I shouted directly in his ear.

  He slammed on the breaks, throwing all of us forward in the car. He turned to me, flipped his sunglasses up, and fixed me in a penetrating stare. “What is it, Mac?” he asked calmly like I’d interrupted him at a bridge party.

  “Get. Out. Of. The. Car.”

  He looked like he might argue but, seeing my face, he thought better of it.

  “Fine,” he grumbled, stashing the bottle next to the seat and exiting to the sidewalk.

  I turned around to look into the backseat. Alice was wide-eyed, shocked at the narrow scrape we’d just avoided. As much as I hated to be indebted to Twain of all people, he’d really saved our asses. And I felt lower than shit for being the stubborn bastard that had gotten her caught up in the situation.

  Fuck, if I wanted to traipse around the city, getting in over my head at every turn, who cared? Nobody did about Twain. But goading Alice on, knowing she’d follow me anywhere… There had been few times in my life that I felt like a legitimate piece of shit, but this was definitely one of them.

  “Are you okay?” I asked.

  She looked surprised at my words, or maybe it was just my tone. “Yeah, of course,” she said though I could hear the tremor in her voice. She laughed and it was pitchy, bordering on hysterical. “That was pretty crazy, huh?”

  “Yeah,” I said. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

  She nodded, sobered at the look on my face. “I’m fine, Mac,” she said. “We should never have been out here though.”

  “I know.” I paused and sighed. “I’m sorry. I’m going to get you home in one piece.”

  It was bad when I’d messed up to the point of genuine sincerity.

  I put my hand on the door to go join Twain, but she stopped me, one of her hands finding my shoulder. “Thanks for defending me,” she said.

  I wasn’t really sure what to say. This was uncomfortable, odd, very unlike me and our relationship so built on disparaging remarks and over-the-top flirtations. This felt… real. And what the hell did I know about real?

  “Of course,” I muttered gruffly.

  I left quickly, breaking the moment and stalking over to Twain who was smoking a cigarette, his lean frame lounging against a half-wall.

  “Hey buddy boy, you looked pretty happy to see me back there,” he said, taking a deep inhale and blowing it toward the sky.

  His eyes were lit with a devious mockery. The bandanna around his wild hair and his scruffy disheveled appearance made him look like he’d just stumbled his way out of a firefight in Vietnam, or, I supposed, from the back alleys of a shady Mexican city. None of the clothes he was wearing were the ones I’d last seen him in and his eyes were sunken with lack of sleep.

  I didn’t even know where to begin. Twain gave me a hand.

  “I suppose you can start by getting on your knees and sucking my cock in thanks for me just saving your ass,” he said.

  I glowered at him. He always made it really hard to say thank you. “Is that really what you want from me, Twain?” I asked.

  “I mean, if I close my eyes I could probably picture Mia Kahlifa—”

  “Stop.” I cut him off before he started going on. The street we were on was quiet, but I didn’t want to linger. The sooner we got back to the resort, the better. For all of us.

  “Okay, first, thank you. You saved our asses back there.”

  “All in the name of friendship,” he said with a little bow.

  “And secondly, you don’t tell anyone about what happened, okay? Not Henry, not Sam, definitely not Mason. Nothing good comes of them knowing about this.”

  Twain cocked his head. “Good for them or good for you?”

  “Nothing good for any of us,” I said. I looked back at Alice, who was watching us, and lowered my voice, “Listen, I’m in a bit of hot water already with the Knights. A stripper incident, not really my fault. But anyway if Beck finds out that I almost got her Maid of Honor killed than there’s going to be a lot of emotions, all of which will be directed at me.”

  “Okay, that still just sounds bad for you though,” Twain said. His face split into a smile at the look on my face. “Okay, okay, listen. I won’t tell, but I want a favor. Those are my terms.”

  I blinked. “A favor? What kind of favor?” Knowing Twain it could be anything from pet-sitting a rabid tiger to helping him bury a body.

  He shrugged. “I don’t know yet. But a favor, when I say, whatever I say. No questions asked.”

  I considered it. “Nothing illegal,” I said.

  He shook his head. “I said a favor, Mac. Come on. It’ll probably be illegal.”

  I groaned. I really hated being indebted to Twain, but the thought of Sam finding out after his warning to me… It wasn’t worth the risk. And, after he saved my life, as much as I hated to admit it, I owed him one anyway.

  “Fine,” I said through gritted teeth. “But you’re a real bastard, you know that?”

  Twain grinned and tossed his cigarette to the pavement, crushing it beneath a bare heel. “I’ve been told. Now come on. I’ve got to get y’all home.”

  “Wait a minute,” I said, following him. “You’re not driving. You’re drunk.”

  “No,” Twain said. “I was drinking. I’m far from drunk.”

  “Whatever the case,” I said. “I’m taking us back.” I’d also been drinking earlier in the night, but after the confrontation I was stone-cold sober.

  Twain looked like he was considering fighting me on it, but then he rolled his eyes and flipped me the keys. “Take it away, Jeeves,” he said, hopping into the passenger’s seat.

  I started the engine and pulled the Jeep down the street.

  “Take the next right and follow it to the main road. There’ll be an entrance to the highway after a bit,” Twain directed.

  Now that I didn’t have to worry about Sam or Mason, I refocused on Twain. “Dude, its been like two days. Why do you look like you just crawled your way out of the fifth circle of hell?”

  Twain shrugged. “It’s Mexico,” he said, like that was a perfectly reasonable explanation.

  Alice poked her head up between us. “Um. Excuse me, but can you clarify something for me?”

  “What?”

  “Is this Twain? As in Twain Conrad, the other groomsman?”

  Twain grinned back at her. “In the flesh, my dear.” He extended a hand which she took after a moment’s hesitation. “And I would have to assume that you are the lovely Alice Rhodes?”

  “How do you know who I am?”

  Twain leaned back in his seat and put his feet on the dash, lighting another cigarette. “Becaus
e, darling, I know just about everything and what I don’t know I can quickly find out.”

  “Yeah, we all have the Internet,” I muttered, but neither of them acknowledged me.

  “I thought you were sick or something,” Alice said. “Have you even been to the resort at all?”

  “Just long enough to know that the real party was out here,” Twain replied. “And good god, what a party. Did you say its only been two days? Could have sworn it was at least three. Man, let me tell you, I—.”

  “I have a question,” I said, cutting him off before he horrified Alice. “How the hell did you manage to stumble on us right in the nick of time?”

  Twain shrugged. “I was in the bar, gambling in the back room. I came out just as the two of you were leaving. I started to catch up with you — the game wasn’t going too well — but then I heard those guys talking about going after you.”

  “So you went and got your car…” Alice continued for him.

  “Well, I got a car.”

  I whipped my head around to glare at Twain. “A car? Are you telling me we’re driving a stolen car?” I demanded.

  “Well technically you’re the one driving it,” Twain said.

  “Christ,” I muttered. The Jeep wasn’t looking that great. Hitting those guys had left more than a little wear and tear on the hood and windshield. “I can’t drive a stolen car up to the resort.”

  “Then here,” Twain said, pointing to the side of the road. “Park it there and we’ll call a cab to take us the rest of the way.”

  I pulled it over and reluctantly left it. Twain lit up another cigarette and walked up and down the street while we waited for the cab, kicking trash and occasionally yelling at cats.

  I sat down on a bus stop bench next to Alice. I wasn’t really sure what to say.

  She sat staring at her hands, deep in thought. She got a crease right between her eyebrows when she had something on her mind.

  “That bat move you pulled was pretty cool,” she finally said, breaking the silence.

  I chuckled softly. “Yeah, maybe I’ll show you how to do it one day.”

  “I’d like that,” she said. Then she moved closer to me and rested her head against my shoulder. She dozed off there, leaving me to watch Twain and wonder just how long this was going to last.

  Once the adrenaline died down, she was going to come to the same conclusion that I did: We’d almost gotten killed tonight and it was all my fault.

  14

  Alice

  I woke up at noon to a headache and the icy tendrils of fear still snaking through my veins. I’d dreamt of faceless men in tuxes destroying a wedding cake with baseball bats as opera dissolved into screams.

  Last night had been a hell of a lot of fun. Hitting the bars and clubs with Mac, meeting all those crazy, interesting people, seeing the sights and sounds of the city outside of the bland safety of the resort. And that moment, on that dark street, when Mac’s lips hovered over mine. It might have been the best memory of the trip.

  But somewhere along the line, we’d gone a step too far, gotten a little too comfortable. Or maybe we’d always been too comfortable, ignoring the dangers of exploring an unfamiliar city at night. I’d had something akin to blind faith in Mac, that as long as I was by his side everything was going to end up okay.

  Which, I supposed, hadn’t been entirely inaccurate. We’d ended up coming out unscathed. But only by the insane stroke of good luck that was Twain.

  Otherwise? If the crazy writer hadn’t come around the corner in that Jeep, howling and cursing? I’d never considered just how vulnerable, how soft and fragile and human, I was until my life was in serious danger.

  It was only then that I could picture just how easy it would be to never leave Mexico alive.

  Of course, Mac would have gone down first and probably not very fast. I pictured the way he’d immediately stood in front of me, his stature inflating, muscles bulging, voice deep and hard. The way he’d taken that bat from the kid was like a scene from a Hollywood movie. Even though I had been terrified, I could still remember the arousal I’d felt at the sight.

  Then Twain had pulled up with his storm of chaotic energy, knocking the gang members aside like paper cups and screaming like an insane person. And Mac had used one powerful arm to press me to the wall, blocking me completely with his body, an unbreakable shield standing firm against a new threat. I’d felt safe in that moment, even as the world dissolved into chaos.

  After Twain ferried us away, it had been a whirl of emotions that finally settled into exhaustion. I barely remembered Mac helping me to my room.

  Wait. Mac had helped me to my room? The memory popped back into focus. The handsome face furrowed with concern, sneaking secret glances at me all the way back to the resort. I tried to label that expression, an unfamiliar one I’d never seen on his face.

  It didn’t take long — he was nervous.

  And he should be, I realized. His tryst with Mariana in the bathroom had nothing on last night.

  I got out of bed and walked to my window, looked out over the resort as the thoughts wrestled in my head. I’d been too scared, too relieved last night. I’d feebly cracked jokes and told Mac that it was all all right. It was totally cool that we’d almost gotten murdered in a back alley in Tuzas.

  But as the sun rose on reality today, it was increasingly clear that no part of last night had been okay. As hot as Mac had looked wielding that bat and as apologetic as he’d been afterward, he’d not only put the wedding in jeopardy, but my very life.

  Anger built inside me and I clenched my fists. We could have been killed. I could have been kidnapped, could have disappeared into the night, never to be seen again. All because Mac wanted to sleep with Margot fucking Lorne.

  But what made me even angrier was that I was almost as much at fault as Mac. I’d gone along with the stupid plan, trying to call his bluff as he pressed me further and further into a truly dangerous situation.

  Well it ended now. I’d gotten lucky last night and I wasn’t going to take it any further. Hopefully Mac learned his lesson too, because I was done trying to teach it to him. Screw him. Mac had taken up too much of my focus the past few days. With the wedding mere days away, I should be spending my time with Mariana making sure everything was in order. I never did find out if she’d gotten rid of those disgusting yellow flowers.

  Are you really going to admit defeat? What if he tries to bang Margot the minute your back is turned?

  I brushed the thought from my mind. He’d said he wouldn’t, but so what if he did? Would it even get back to Sam and Beck? I didn’t know, and I didn’t care. Trying to stop him was only making things worse.

  Mac could do whatever he wanted. I balled up my memories of our night together and pushed them down. All traitorous thoughts of Mac had to go. I was washing my hands of him.

  “So it was just fine?” That was Kylie, eating an orange and looking at me like she didn’t believe a single word that was coming out of my mouth.

  “Just fine,” I repeated, taking a sip of my coffee and hoping my friends couldn’t see through the outright lie. “We went to a couple bars, walked around, met some people. It was like a night out back home. Actually wish you all could have been there.”

  Kylie looked at Beck, possibly for backup over her disbelief, but if Beck doubted my story, she showed no sign.

  “That does sound like fun,” Beck said. “Honestly I’m just glad you made it back in one piece.” She’d been ecstatic to see me when I joined them at the lunch buffet, giving me a huge hug that I hadn’t realized I needed.

  “Sure, sure,” Kylie said. “Maybe we should do a group night off the resort than?” There was a light tease to her tone. Kylie had known me for too long; she didn’t believe me at all.

  “Maybe,” I said with a smile. There was no way it was actually going to happen so why not agree?

  “Why leave the resort?” Jules cut in. She was wearing her sunglasses indoors and texting while she talke
d. “Trust me, all the bars are way better here.”

  “Have you been to Tuzas?” Kylie asked with an edge to her voice.

  “No, but—”

  “Then why should we trust you?”

  I blinked and stared at my normally good-natured friend. She and Jules glowered at each other with obvious dislike.

  “Let’s just all stay on the resort,” Beck said, cutting the tension with an overly-bright voice. To me, she said, “I’m glad it was a good time, but they really do tell you not to wander around the city.”

  I shrugged and shot a smile at Kylie. “Whatever you say, boss,” I said. “But it was a lot of fun.”

  “Good, clean, old-fashioned fun.” My chest tightened at the deep voice behind me. Mac.

  He pulled up a chair and sat down at our table, followed by Mason. Mac looked fresh and well-rested, no sign at all of the stress of the previous night. “Alice telling you about our night?” he asked. His eyes landed on me, a playful smile on his full lips.

  In that instant, trapped by his gleaming green eyes, I wanted to smile back. But then I remembered my fear last night and my anger this morning. Stay strong, Alice. I looked away, expressionless.

  “Yep,” Kylie said. “I hear it was uneventful?” she added as she chewed.

  “Dead boring,” Mac confirmed. “Wish we would have just stayed here.” I glanced at him as he talked and while his mouth smiled, his eyes were dulled.

  “And yet you ran into Twain?” Mason asked. Like Kylie, he seemed to suspect that something was off about the story.

  Beck’s eyes widened. “Really? Is he back?”

  Mac nodded. “He’s around somewhere. Probably getting into something he shouldn’t be.”

  Jules looked up from her phone. “Oh boy, Alice. There’s your next target.” Her tone dripped with snark.

  I frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  There was an unmistakable shake as Beck kicked her under the table. Jules scowled at Beck and then stood. “I’m going find Keegan,” she announced and stalked off.