Club Princess - Nicole James Page 0,35
once considered that maybe he needed me, too.
I stand and come around the desk to lay my palms gently on his shoulders. “It’s okay, Daddy.” I squeeze my hands.
I see his head nod once, and his hand comes up to cover mine, returning the squeeze. Then he surprises me by changing the subject.
“Was Memphis good to you?”
Suddenly there’s a lump in my throat, and I struggle to swallow past it to answer him. “Yes, of course.”
His head turns, and he looks at me over his shoulder out of the corner of his eye. “If he pulled any shit with you, I’ll kill him.”
I lean down, and loop my arms around his neck to press my cheek to his. “I love you, Daddy. Someday there’ll be a man for me, and I hope he’s as wonderful as you.”
“Now you’re just trying to blow smoke up my ass, girl.”
I kiss his cheek and straighten. “Come on. It’s Baja’s birthday. Let’s go harass him.”
He huffs out a laugh. “Just like your mother, always good at distraction and changin’ the subject.”
“Nope. I learned that from you.”
He stands, and pulls me against him for a hug. “If I ever lost you, too, Lola, I’d put a gun to my head.”
“You won’t lose me, Daddy. I’ll always be your girl,” I say, my cheek pressed to his leather vest.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Memphis—
I stand at the bar, sipping on a drink. I stare into the amber liquid, swirling it in my glass, but I can’t help darting my gaze to the hallway where Lola disappeared.
Darko tries to make conversation, but I hardly do more than grunt out my answers. I glance around the clubhouse, taking in the warm golden log structure. I’ve been to a lot of Royal Bastards clubhouses, but none quite like this one with its tall raftered ceiling and exposed logs. There’s the usual club paraphernalia on the walls to be sure, flags with the club emblem, framed photos of brothers at Sturgis, the Grand Canyon, Joshua Tree, and places all over the west, even some police mug-shots tacked up, and the requisite bras and panties even.
I feel a hand slide up my back, and twist to see some chick smiling at me.
“Hi. I’m Marie, but everyone calls me Bunny.”
I catch Darko’s shoulders shaking with his silent laughter.
“Bunny, huh? Why do they call you that?” I ask.
Darko turns his grinning face at me. “Cause she breeds like a fucking rabbit.”
Bunny’s smile turns ugly, and she withdraws with a huff.
I watch her strut off, before arcing a brow at Darko. “I get the feeling you just saved my ass. Thanks, man.”
“No problem. That one will talk your ear off.”
I feel another hand on my shoulder, and wonder if the same girl is back again, but when I turn my head, half coming off my stool to tell Bunny to get lost, I find Lola instead. “Oh. Hey, doll.”
Lola’s eyes dart to Darko.
I almost cringe at letting the endearment slip out of my mouth in front of him. From the look he gives us, I know he didn’t miss it, either.
“What’s up?” Lola asks.
“Nothing. Just having a drink. Want one?”
“Sure. I’ll have a Tequila Sunrise.”
I snap my fingers at the prospect, and order her drink. “Everything okay between you and Rock?”
“Yes, fine.”
“I lift my gaze past her to see her father now across the room, leaning against the wall by one of the pool tables. I half expect him to come read me the Riot Act. I study Lola, wondering how much she told him, but she won’t meet my eyes. Apparently nothing, because he’s not over here with his fists in my cut, pinning me to the wall, and ready to tear my head off.
The prospect sets Lola’s drink down, and Darko slides over one stool, making room.
With her between us, she tries to maintain her cool, giving him just as much attention as she does me. We chat about bullshit, until the topic suddenly comes around to the GTO.
“You change your mind about the car? I never got the deposit.” Darko pins her with a look.
Lola sucks her lips into her mouth, and pops them out. “I’m sorry about that. I shouldn’t have left you hanging.”
“You still want it?”
She shocks the shit out of me by shaking her head. “No, I think I’ll have to pass after all. It’s a lot of money for me right now, and….” Her voice trails off to nothing.
“You sure?” Darko asks, leaning back on his stool, apparently just as shocked