Vin's Rules (Outer Settlement Agency) by Lyn Brittan Page A

of us needs to be able to fight. Two people drunk or one very drunk and the other very sober. Go with the latter. I need you sober.”
    He reached around her for the bottle and guzzled the stomach-rotting stuff for as long as he could before taking a break and slamming the bottle on the table. “This shit burns your lips.”
    “All the more reason for—”
    His hand closed around hers when she reached for it. “No. You’ve gotta be aware and coherent for the both of us. This isn’t a pissing contest, and you have nothing to prove.”
    “What good are you to me if you’re too drunk to help?”
    “If push comes to shove, fight your way out.”
    “Alone? Be serious. They’d kill me.”
    “Then take as many of them to hell with you as you can.”

Chapter Six
    A llie dragged a juice-splattered napkin across the latest stain on Vin’s shirt. He held a fried wing in one hand and his wine in the other. “You’re a mess.”
    “I’d thank you for cleaning that, but I can’t let go these,” he said, slurring his words and downing another swig. “Wait. That makes no sense. I’m like, drunk.”
    “Yep.”
    “Stuff’s strong.”
    “Mmhmm.”
    Mike and Poppy left some time ago, giggling and whispering to one another. Their presence had been a barrier of sorts, but in the alcohol-induced haze, she and Vin had all but ceased to exist for them. A part of her had a feeling that Mike had done a better job of playing at drunk that Vin. While the esteemed OSA officer was legitimately tossed, Mike had the good judgment to drink a little, drink a little more, and then get his very drunk wife out of there.
    That was what she and Vin should have done. Instead, she was stuck with a too large man burdened with too little sense.
    Vin popped the poor piece of poultry in his mouth and sucked, extracting nothing but the bone. “I don’t feel so good. Hand me some more of that green stuff.”
    He wasn’t the only one about to get sick. All the hurling and grease-slinging going on around the room twisted her already queasy stomach. She’d lost her dinner about an hour ago but dry heaved each time some slobbering man pounced on his wife or burped his satisfaction.
    There were other sounds too.
    The kinds best suited for private bedrooms. She’d seen two penises too many and enough boobs to last a lifetime. “I think you’ve made your point, Vin. You’re drunk, they’ve seen it. Let’s go.”
    “Ishonhur.”
    “What?”
    “I can... concur.” His head slammed into his plate and stayed there. “Help.”
    Any other time this would have been hilarious, but she had a billion and one reasons to be angry and a little nervous too. Roughly grabbing his cheeks, she rotated his head and slapped him. “Get up.”
    “Gimme a minute.”
    “You’ve had hours. The mood’s changing in here, and I don’t want to be around for anymore. I’m not saying I’m scared but—”
    He jumped, kicking away the chair with such force that she howled, much to the delight of the room. As far as anyone saw, here was a man dragging his woman off for whatever he wanted. She frowned and twisted her free hand to add to the scene.
    A scene that was terrifyingly devoured. Some men cheered. Most clapped. Others looked downright envious. Yet, Mama and Graham had a sudden alertness to them, and both shot her devious, dark grins.
    Bastards.
    Fear . That was what this chest quaking feeling was—the natural, ingrained kind that sensed imminent threat. She held her breath and kept her head down until they reached the hallway.
    The door of the dining room slammed shut, sealing off the evil behind them. Vin slumped against the wall. “My legs are goo, and I can’t see.”
    “Literally?”
    “Figuratively-ish. Everything’s spinning. Including you. And there are two of you, by the way.”
    “Vin!”
    “Both are pissed. Both are hot. With hair that I just wanna grab in my hands while you...” He dragged his palms down his face and pinched the bridge of