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Rev of course.”
    “Hey…”
    “Next time get here earlier Rev.” Mayhem shook his head. “You’d think a guy who races for a living would have better timing.”
    “So, how’d you two meet?” Ink asked as we watched Mayhem make his way across the lobby like a tank, the crowd parting to either side of him.
    I gave Winter a quick look and shrugged. “Well, this one was lost out and about in a dangerous place. Being the Good Samaritan I am, I came to the rescue, swept her off her feet. And you know, she’s head-over-heels, so here we are.”
    Winter scoffed, her eyebrows raised. “Yeah, he’s a real saint.”
    Ink smiled. “Well, good to have you join us, Winter. Let’s go take our seats. There’s always an extra one waiting for the old man, but he doesn’t come by too often anymore.”
    “Yeah, well good thing,” I noted. “Or else it’d be an evening full of pontification and speeches about his disappointment in each and every one of us.”
    We followed Ink out of the lobby. I swung my hand over Winter’s delicate shoulders and my hand grazed the soft, silky skin of her arm.
    “Looks like you’re my date for the evening,” I remarked, trying to keep things light.
    “Just what I always wanted,” she shot back.
    It all starts with the banter…
     
     
     
     
     
     
    Chapter Five
    Winter
    Holy smokes!
    As we made our way into the arena, I couldn’t help but wonder what these guys were eating. They must have been on some kind of special diet. All three brothers were tall with broad, muscular shoulders that tapered down to trim waists. Their jawlines were chiseled from stone and their eyes were all some kind of different shade of blue. They were easily the three hottest guys I’d ever laid eyes on. Each one could have had a successful career as a male model. But something told me that they weren’t the type to stand around all day getting their picture taken.
    The similarities ended there though. The Gryffin brothers were as different from each other as could be, each in their own strikingly attractive way. Cage, or “Mayhem” as he seemed to go by, was clearly the eldest. He dominated the space around him, standing at no less than six-and-a-half feet tall and staring down at everyone with intimidating grey-blue eyes. And he was as big as he was tall. Missing him in crowded room was as likely as missing the Statue of Liberty from Ellis Island. Thick striations ran across his forearms and his heaving musculature strained against his clothing, as if there was a barely contained rage pulsing within.
    Somehow though, he seemed like the most disciplined and ordered one, with his deep, demanding voice and close cropped hair. The way he reprimanded Rev was the very picture of a responsible, authoritative older brother. Of course, there must have been some reason people called him “Mayhem.” I’m not sure anyone wanted to get on his bad sad. Sometimes those who lead the most contained and well-ordered lives have wild storms of fury within.
    If Cage was the disciplined one, Julian or “Ink” was the measured one. He exuded a well-adjusted, perfectly composed, and wholly tranquil character. He held himself in a mysterious and quiet sort of way, relaxed and reserved, which somehow lent him an air of inherent authority. His brown hair was swept dramatically over his forehead; his toned, tattooed arms rested at his sides, thumbs through the belt loops of his jeans; and his smooth, calming voice hinted at the vast depths of his equanimity.
    But there was an edge to him—something I couldn’t quite figure out. At first he struck me as the smart one, measured and poised. But one long look at him and there was an impression of brooding darkness. It was like some great tragedy, some crucible of torment and suffering, had given him a depth of understanding and insight. He serenely crossed his heavily inked arms and absorbed the world around him through deep green-blue eyes. He was as enigmatic as Mayhem was