The Gangster’s Billionaire Husband

CHAPTER THREE

The night passed in a blur of neon lights, loud music, and drinks that never seemed to stop coming. Wes sat at the bar, effortlessly drawing attention, girls draping themselves over him, laughing at his every word, and practically competing for his attention. He let them. Not because he cared, but because it was easier than overthinking everything else.

Carter, on the other hand, was having the time of his life—well, mostly. The girls he flirted with barely acknowledged his existence, too busy hovering around Wes like he was the main event. But Carter, being Carter, didn’t let it get to him. He drank, he danced (terribly), and he somehow convinced the DJ to play an old-school rock song that absolutely did not fit the club’s usual vibe.

“Dude,” Carter slurred at some point, throwing an arm around Wes’s shoulder. “We should do this more often.”

Wes, sipping his drink, barely looked at him. “You say that every time you get drunk.”

“And every time, I mean it,” Carter insisted, grinning.

The night stretched on. Wes lost count of his drinks—whiskey, tequila, maybe even a few cocktails someone shoved into his hand. It should’ve hit him by now, but somehow, he was still steady, still clear-headed. Carter, however? A complete mess.

By the time they decided to leave, Carter was draped over the bar like a guy who had just fought in a war and lost. His tie was undone, his hair was a mess, and he was swaying even when he wasn’t moving.

“Alright, time to go,” Wes announced, standing up and stretching like he hadn’t just consumed enough alcohol to tranquilize a horse.

Carter blinked at him, unfocused. “What? No. Noooo. One more round, man. Just—just one more.”

“You said that three rounds ago,” Wes said, already grabbing Carter’s arm to haul him up.

Carter groaned dramatically, leaning into Wes like a deadweight. “You’re so bossy. This is why you don’t have a girlfriend.”

Wes sighed, adjusting his grip as Carter nearly face-planted into the bar. “And this is why you don’t have a dignity.”

Carter cackled. “Dignity is overrated.”

Dragging Carter through the crowd was a mission. The guy kept stopping every few feet to either high-five strangers or mumble some nonsense about life and its many mysteries.

“Did you know,” Carter slurred as they reached the exit, “that pigeons recognize human faces? Like, they remember people. That’s kinda terrifying.”

Wes side-eyed him. “You’re literally about to pass out, and this is what your brain decides to focus on?”

Carter nodded solemnly. “It’s important.”

They finally made it outside, where the cool air hit them. Wes took a deep breath, feeling slightly more awake. Carter, on the other hand, groaned dramatically and flopped against Wes’s shoulder.

“You’re the worst,” Wes muttered, dragging him toward the car.

“You love me,” Carter mumbled sleepily.

Wes sighed, shaking his head as he shoved Carter into the passenger seat. “Yeah, yeah. Just shut up and sleep before I leave you here.”

Carter grinned, already half-asleep. “You’d never.”

Wes sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “Now, give me the car keys.”

Silence.

He glanced over at Carter, who was slumped against the window, out cold.

“Unbelievable,” Wes muttered.

With no other choice, he started rummaging through Carter’s pockets, muttering curses under his breath. Halfway through, Carter stirred and, in a slow, sleepy voice, giggled, “Stop,” like Wes was trying to undress him instead of trying to save both their lives.

Wes recoiled immediately, glaring. “Oh, hell no.”

Carter mumbled something unintelligible before going limp again. Wes rolled his eyes, finally finding the keys and yanking them out. “You better be glad I don’t just leave you here.”

Sliding into the driver’s seat, he started the car and pulled out onto the road. It was late, and the streets were mostly empty, so he picked up speed, wanting to get home and put this whole night behind him.

Then, out of nowhere, headlights appeared.

Wes barely had time to react. He slammed on the brakes, but—because, of course, Carter’s car was a deathtrap—they barely held on. The tires screeched, the car skidded, and before he could do anything else—

BAM.

The impact threw him forward, and the next thing he knew, the airbags exploded in his face, knocking the breath out of him.

For a second, there was just ringing in his ears. Then, slowly, the world came back into focus.

He was pissed.

Shoving the deflated airbag out of his way, he ripped off his seatbelt and pushed the door open, stepping out with all the rage of a man who was not in the mood for this.

The other car’s driver was already out, looking a little shaken but otherwise fine.

Wes took a deep breath, trying to keep his temper in check. Then he looked back at Carter, who was still asleep. The i***t had slept through a car crash.

Wes exhaled sharply. “I swear to God.”

Carter chose that moment to stir, blinking blearily. “Mmm, what happened?”

Wes shot him a look so deadly it could’ve killed on sight. “You wanna take a wild guess, Sleeping Beauty?”

“Did we … did we just get in a crash?”

He turned to Carter, who was still slumped against the passenger seat, barely processing the situation.

“No s**t, Sherlock.” Wes gestured at the crumpled hood of Carter’s ancient deathtrap of a car. “This dumb f**k right here appeared out of nowhere. Oh, and look, the guy’s turn lights weren’t even on.”

The driver of the other car—some stiff-looking guy in a suit—glared at him, fists clenched at his sides like he was two seconds from swinging. He looked like the type who worked for someone important. Probably a corporate guy who thought traffic laws didn’t apply to him.

“You were the one who came out of nowhere, driving that relic down the freeway,” the guy snapped. “You were going at about a hundred.”

Wes scoffed. “What do you mean a hundred?”

“Wasn’t that the reason why your brakes didn’t stick?”

“b***h, you got in the way. That’s why it didn’t stick.”

The guy took a step forward, looking about ready to throw a punch. Wes squared his shoulders, not in the mood to deal with this, but also very much in the mood to throw hands if necessary.

Before things could escalate, the window of the other car slid down smoothly, revealing a man in a much nicer suit. He looked like he was in his late twenties, but there was something about him—something sharp and composed, like he was used to giving orders and having people obey without question.

He barely spared Wes and Carter a glance before sighing. “That’s enough. Just pay them and let’s go.”

Wes blinked. “Wait. Pay us?”

Carter, suddenly a lot more awake, straightened up. “Did you say pay?”

The driver hesitated, his jaw tightening like he’d rather choke on his tie than give them a cent. He didn’t even want to look at them, let alone pay for damages. But the second his boss gave him a pointed look, he sighed through his nose and pulled out a checkbook.

Wes scoffed but, deep down, he was very curious to see how much these corporate idiots thought his time and suffering were worth.

A few zeroes caught his eye before the driver ripped the check from the book and handed it over. Wes took one look at the amount and laughed.

“A thousand dollars?” He held up the check like it was some kind of joke. “You think this will cover it?”

The driver bristled. “Stop trying to scam us—”

“Scam you?!” Wes repeated, offended. “You rammed into us! You’re the one scamming us.”

Carter, still only half-conscious, leaned over Wes’s shoulder to peek at the check. “Yeah, man. At least make it worth our trauma,” he slurred.

The man in the expensive suit sighed—deep, long-suffering, like he had much better things to do than listen to this argument. Without looking up, he muttered, “Just add a zero.” Then he pressed a button, and the window slid up, cutting the conversation off entirely.

Wes grinned, triumphant. “That’s right. Listen to your boss.”

The driver looked like he was reconsidering all his life choices but, with another sharp exhale, he scribbled down a new check and shoved it into Wes’s hand before storming back to his car.

Carter stared after them as they pulled away. Then he turned to Wes. “So, uh… does this mean we’re rich?”

Wes smirked, tucking the check into his pocket like he had just pulled off the easiest con of the century. “It means we just got compensated.”

Carter, still swaying slightly from all the alcohol in his system, chuckled. “How much was it?”

Wes grinned. “Thirty thousand bucks.”

Carter blinked, then burst out laughing. “Idiots. I could buy three of these rust buckets with that.” He patted the hood of his car, which let out a disturbing creak in response.

Wes laughed too. “Please don’t. One of these is already too much suffering.”

Carter grinned and slung an arm around Wes’s shoulders. “Alright, alright. Now, let’s go home before I spend our settlement money on something stupid.”

Wes shook his head, guiding his drunk-ass friend away from the wreckage. “Too late for that, man.”

“Where are we going?” Carter asked, stumbling slightly as he tried to keep up.

“Grabbing something to eat,” Wes said, tucking the check deeper into his pocket. “And then, you know, get ourselves some girls.”

Carter snorted. “You need money for that?”

Wes smirked. “No. But I need money for the motel.”

Carter let out a loud laugh, clapping Wes on the back. “Man’s got priorities.”

Wes grinned. “Damn right.”

They continued walking down the street, the wrecked car and ridiculous payday already behind them. Tonight had started like a disaster, but now? Now, it was shaping up just fine thanks to that guy who throws money around like it meant nothing.