“You think they’ll clap?” he took a pair of gloves from his back pocket, loosening them at the wrist
“There drunk as fuck.” She said. A low growl sounded from the edge of the room as few young men snorted in to childish laughter, sipping their shorthanded scotch.
“Boys.” Honor called over his shoulder. Drew, the youngest member, gazed up from the intimate position he was sharing with a much older woman in stilettos. “Fucking drinks down. Get ready.”
“You heard him boys,” Beckett strolled in gradually, cigar smoke streaming from behind. “Get you fucking act together,”
“What the hell happened to you?” Beckett took in a breath, as Honor eyed his bruises. The room quieted down, leaving open air for him to speak.
“Aldemir is either dead or has internal bleeding. And frankly, I’m fine with both. So, I need everyone to keep their act together tonight. That means you Drew,” Honor watched his younger brother turn his back before saying, “We are closing in on our deal, and I don’t need anyone of you fuckers to mess it up. Understood?”
A few mumbles filled the room. “Let’s go”