"That came out wrong," Dex admitted. "Can you take the bear head off, please."
Seb did as Dex asked, and Dex immediately pulled on the wide collar of the suit while he felt around in the other pocket. He peered down into the dark. Yay for Therian night vision. There were two objects. He pulled one out and frowned. It looked a little like--
"Fuck bunnies! I have to get this off!"
"What is it?" Seb asked, just as a group of guys in baseball caps and beanies approached Dex.
"Hey, you got the stuff?" Gray-beanie guy looked Seb over. "Who the hell is this guy? Wiesel didn't say there were more buyers."
Dex narrowed his eyes, his words aimed at Seb, who was still holding on to the bear's head. "Hold my bear."
Gray-beanie guy's eyes went huge. "Oh, shit."
The gang dispersed, and Dex ran after gray-beanie guy, calling out over his shoulder. "Call for backup!" He chased the guy down Ninth Avenue and then made a right onto Gansevoort Street, giving chase as fast as his bear legs would go. Thankfully, the suit was more a fuzzy onesie with padded belly than anything, so running wasn't difficult. He tried not to worry about the two grenades nestled in the pocket of his bear belly. Please don't blow up. Please don't blow up. Sloane would be so pissed if something blew up, especially him.
"THIRDS agent! Stop!"
The guy flipped him off, never missing a beat as he tore down the street and headed for the High Line. There was no way Dex was letting this guy get away.
"Get back here, you dick! It's my bachelor party!"
"I feel sorry for your fiance," the guy shouted back.
"You don't get to talk about my fiance! My boo is perfection. He's all that and a bag of chips!" Maybe he should stop talking. The running was certainly not helping him clear his brain's little booze buzz.
"He's clearly as crazy as you are if he's marrying you!" The guy darted up the st
eps leading to the deck of the High Line, and Dex followed. He was sweating balls, it was so hot in this damn bear.
"I'll have you know he's perfectly stable! He's smart, and sexy, and the very definition of class!" How dare this jerk say one ill word about his sophisticated sexy pants. Oh, he was going down.
Chapter 6
SLOANE LET out a loud belch and laughed. "That tasted like lemonade." He frowned as it struck him. "Fuck, I'm so wasted."
"I don't care if you're in a coma. You're finishing this damn game." Tony motioned to the air hockey table. "Move your ass, Brodie. You're not winning this time."
Wait. Sloane peered at Tony and thrust a finger at him. "You purposefully got me drunk so you could win. Dex told me I shouldn't play air hockey with you."
"Yeah, he also told his sixth-grade teacher that he couldn't take his math test because numbers were against his religion."
Sloane snorted vodka and lemonade through his nose and almost choked. He coughed and sputtered, wiping his nose and mouth with his arm as Tony laughed his ass off. "You couldn't have waited until I'd finished drinking to say that?"
"And miss your impression of a sprinkler?"
"Why aren't you drunk?" Sloane narrowed his eyes at Tony, who'd had almost as many drinks as Sloane had. Why was he so sober?
Tony shrugged. "Clearly I can hold my liquor better."
"Bull. Shit."
Tony arched an eyebrow at him, and Sloane marched over to him. He grabbed Tony's glass off the edge of the table, sniffed it, then took a sip.
Sloane gasped. "This is just lemonade! I've been bamboozled!"
Tony reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet. He took a ten-dollar bill and held it up to Sloane. "I will give this to you if you say bamboozled again."
"You are a crafty bastard." Sloane snatched the bill from Tony's hand. "Bamboozled." Ignoring Tony's cackle, Sloane shoved the bill into his back pocket. He should have known the man would be sneaky. He was Dex's dad after all. Sloane grinned smugly. "Doesn't matter, I still kicked your ass. Like, eight times," he said, glaring at his hands when he counted seven fingers. He put one more finger up. "Eight."