I squirmed in Archer's hold, popping our safety belt and reaching for the door handle, pausing only when I heard him suck in a sharp breath.
An evil smile curved my lips as I realized I'd just effectively ground my ass against his crotch, and I made a deliberate point of doing it again before hopping out of the SUV.
"You need a minute, sunshine?" I asked sweetly, batting my lashes at him when he didn't shift from his seat.
He snorted a sarcastic laugh. "You wish, Princess."
I needed to take a couple of quick steps backward to avoid getting knocked over, but instead of passing me and stalking off into the night—like I'd expected—he grabbed my arm and yanked me closer.
"Don't fuck around tonight, Madison Kate," he ordered. "Don't wander off, don't get drunk, don't talk to strangers, and for the love of all things holy, don't tell anyone who you are. Got it?"
My brows shot up, and I instantly wanted to disobey every single one of his orders simply because he'd ordered me. "News flash, Archer," I replied, curling my lip at him, "I'm kinda famous, thanks to you. People might just recognize me from the news." I flipped my pink hair over my shoulder, demonstrating what I meant. I wasn't exactly inconspicuous.
He shook his head, unconcerned. "Didn't you know? You're a trendsetter. I guarantee you won't be the only dumb bitch here who's dyed her hair pink."
Irritation simmered within me at his description of me, but it wasn't worth the effort. I'd already decided to make his whole evening as infuriating as possible, and I took a gamble on where to start.
Jerking my arm out of his grip, I said nothing, just walked away to where Kody and Steele were waiting farther down the parking lot.
"Madison Kate," Archer barked after me, and the gravel crunched under his boots as he followed. He caught up to me just as I reached the other guys and, once again, grabbed my arm like some kind of fucking Neanderthal. "Did you hear me? This is important."
Keeping my calm, I peeled his fingers off my arm one at a time, then shoved his hand away before tilting my chin up and meeting his eyes.
"For starters, of course I heard you, Archer. I'm not deaf. Secondly, if I wanted to be told what to do with my life, I'd call my father. Lastly, if you're concerned with people knowing who I am, I'd probably recommend not yelling my name across the parking lot. Just a thought." With another hair flip, I strutted my shit away. Where the fuck I was going, I had no idea. I just headed in the same direction Kody and Steele had generally been heading, knowing that one of them would catch up before I got lost.
Boots crunched gravel again, and I sighed at the predictability.
Except this time instead of Archer grabbing me like I was a disobedient dog, it was Steele who caught up and walked beside me.
"Drew the short straw?" I asked in a voice as dry as the desert. I'd give him shit, but of the three of them, Steele was easily the most tolerable. Even after that stunt earlier with my failed date.
He shot me a lopsided smile. "Taking one for the team."
The other two passed us, their long legs eating the distance twice as fast as I could walk in my high heels, but Kody tossed a wink over his shoulder at me like we were in on some kind of joke together.
"They've got work to do," Steele explained when I said nothing more. "I'm just here for the entertainment. So I get to babysit our new troublemaker all night."
I rolled my eyes, but followed along anyway. What else was I going to do? Walk my ass back to Shadow Grove? Also, the mention that there would be a fight tonight had sparked my excitement and curiosity. Was Archer fighting? He hadn't really dressed for it, wearing dark denim jeans, leather boots, and a black T-shirt, but he could be getting changed.
Questions sat on the tip of my tongue, but to ask Steele everything I wanted to know would be to engage him in an actual conversation. My skin prickled at the idea of being friendly to someone I hated so much, so I kept my mouth shut and just used my own powers of observation to figure shit out.
The event, so to speak, was held within one of the few buildings on the showgrounds. Most of it was just flat open grass, and I silently thanked all that was holy for the fact that it was, in fact, empty grass. I didn't think my brain could have handled more abandoned amusement park rides like at the Laughing Clown.
"You want a drink?" Steele asked me as we entered the clubhouse and made our way through throngs of people. They were all dressed pretty casually—ripped jeans, flannel shirts, a handful of miniskirts and heels. Surprisingly, Archer had been right about my hair not giving me away; I spotted at least two other girls rocking different shades of pink, along with a few purple and even one blue. The colors were on both guys and girls, and it gave me warm fuzzies to see. Maybe their hair choices had absolutely nothing to do with me, but it went a long way toward making me feel less conspicuous.
"I thought I wasn't allowed to drink?" I replied with a sarcastic eye roll, following him through the crowd to the makeshift bar. It was essentially just a couple of iceboxes full of cans and a couple of kegs, but despite what Archer thought, I wasn't fussy. Beer was never going to be my first choice, but if that's all there was, I'd take it.
Steele handed me an ice-cold can—unopened—then grabbed one for himself before straightening up. "No, Arch told you not to get drunk. Big gap between a drink and drunk, is there not?"
I grinned and cracked the top of my drink. Quietly, I appreciated that he'd given me an unopened can and not poured me one from the keg. You could never be too careful in the modern age of drink spiking and date rape. What a depressing thought.
"Come on," Steele said, taking my hand in his and leading me back through the crowd of party people, "let's grab a seat with a view."
Tingling sparks of thrill zapped through me, and I didn't pull my hand away. I let Steele guide me with those long, strong fingers of his intertwined with mine, and I told myself over and over that I was just excited to see this fight... whoever it was. That the way my pulse sped up had nothing to do with Steele holding my hand, because his actions were just sensible in a crowded room.
"Here," Steele said when we reached the next room. It was a much larger area, one that was used for placing bets, if the shoulder-height, windowed counters labeled "betting" were any indication.
He set his drink down on one of the betting window countertops, then wrapped his hands around my waist to boost me up to sit beside his beer. When I was seated, he did a stupidly hot push up thing to get himself up beside me, and I had a hard time tearing my eyes away from his arms.
"Hey, Madison Kate," he said, a teasing smile pulling at his lips, "quit looking at me like a piece of meat. And hand me my drink, would you?"
Heat flooded my face, and I quickly passed over his beer, wiping the condensation off my hands on my jeans while searching my suddenly blank brain for a change of subject.
"So, who's fighting tonight?" I finally asked, sipping my beer and peering out across the room. A very crude octagon had been laid out not far from us, and our elevated position gave us a prime view. One thing was for fucking sure. This was no official UFC sanctioned event.
Right as that thought passed through my mind, a rat scurried across the floor, weaving between people’s feet, and I choked on my beer as I laughed.