“Doom!” Rabbit called.
“Fuck off,” I snapped, and headed to my room. I didn’t get far.
“Doom?”
I slowed my pace at the quiet voice of Alamo’s woman, Jasmine, but didn’t stop. “Not now, Jazz.”
“I’ll send Willow,” she warned.
I stalled, turning slowly to face her. “What do you want, Jasmine?”
“What happened?”
I could lie and say nothing, but she knew me, so it would be pointless. And if she turned Willow onto me, then all hell would break loose and I’d be fucked. Willow was Dash’s woman and she used to be a preacher’s daughter. Used to be, only because her father was deceased and she was married to Dash. But she was a quiet force to be reckoned with and had a way of getting information out of me without saying a word. It was uncanny.
“Not really interested in talkin’ about it,” I said.
“Okay, honey, I get that, but disappearing into your room, alone, with a bottle of tequila isn’t really a good idea.” She leaned forward. “After you’ve gone a few rounds with someone…?”
I’d made a quick stop into Burt’s first, but it had been a disappointing detour, so I came back to the club to drink.
“I think it’s a phenomenal idea,” I countered.
“I’m really concern—”
“Doom!” Alamo bellowed.
I dropped my head back and stared at the ceiling.
“Doom!” Alamo yelled again, this time louder.
“What?” I bellowed back.
“Visitor.”
“Jesus Christ,” I hissed. “Who is it?”
“Not your secretary, brother.”
“Your old man’s an asshole,” I growled, stalking away from Jasmine.
“No he’s not.”
“Yes, he is,” I argued, hearing her laugh as I walked into the great room and froze. “Oh, hell no. Get her the fuck out of here.”
“Wait,” Lyric said. “Please. Give me five minutes.”
“No.”
“Doom, I—”
“Bitch, you better turn your skinny ass around and slink it the fuck out of here—”
“Lincoln, please,” she begged.
I squeezed my eyes shut and took a deep breath in an effort not to hit the wall.
“Use my office,” Alamo offered.
