“That look on your fucking face. You were much better at lying when you were still jaded and angry.”
“You just miss my grumpy side because you’re back to being the emotional buzzkill in the room.”
I chuckle because she’s not wrong. I don’t bother with fake niceties, even if that makes me the asshole of the group. Life is too damn short to bother faking it just to make others feel better about their shit lives. It’s something I know Aimee understands.
She doesn’t try to force me to be fake. She respects a real mood over a good mood. Whether we’re drinking in silence or making fun of Soul for pulling stupid pranks, Aimee is the real deal.
I’ll never admit it, but I was glad when Havoc claimed her because it meant she would stick around.
“Deflect all you want.” I shake my head. “Havoc still tells you way too much shit.”
Aimee laughs, not arguing because she knows I’m right.
Another email from Kincaid’s lawyer comes through, and I see they’ve finally set a court date. Thirty days, and this will finally be over. It doesn’t settle my nerves when I’m losing at the moment, but at least I know when this will be done.
I slam my laptop shut and eye my drink. It’s going to take a whole bottle to get me out of my head tonight.
“You look awfully stressed for sitting in the middle of a strip club.”
I drag my fingers through my hair. “I’m working.”
“That’s so unlike you. I can see why you might be stressed having to do something more than stare at breasts.”
“Very funny.” I glare, spinning on my stool until I’m facing the stage.
Amber bends in half. That kind of flexibility would be hella fun in the sack, and yet, my cock has no interest right now. I haven’t been this irritated since the judge read my guilty verdict a couple of years ago.
“I’m sorry,” Aimee says, frowning. “I’m here if you need to talk.”
“I’m fine,” I lie. “It’s just family shit.”
“Something I know a little about.” She huffs. “I’m guessing the court-ordered mediation didn’t help the situation with your brother?”
I shake my head. “He’s there, and I’m here. Unless that changes, things aren’t looking good. But heading toTexas will look suspicious with all eyes on our strip club operations at the moment. Can’t do that to my brothers.”
“But you want to?”
“It would make it easier.”
“If it comes down to it, will you leave the club to stop your brother from parceling out your family’s land?”
Will I? My grandfather’s ranch is all that’s left of him and my mom, but the club is my family. I’m being torn in two.
“I—” I open my mouth to answer her and freeze when a familiar figure steps into the club. “What the fuck?”
Did I just take a bullet? Because I swear I’m seeing ghosts.
Willa looks exactly as I remember, except she’s not an eighteen-year-old girl anymore. She’s full-grown. An hourglass of sin wrapped in her signature fuck-off package.
Her black hair is longer than it was when we were kids, hanging in waves that nearly reach her waist. She’s a storm of blacks and grays. Her fishnets paint a pretty pattern on her perfect legs. They’re edgy, while her dress is soft, flowing at her thighs and hugging her tits.
With each step, her hips sway.
I’ve thought about those hips—about digging my fingers into them—more times than I can count over the past decade while stroking my cock. But when I meet her eyes, I’m faced with what really haunts me. They’re the shade of a cloud in a darkening sky. A storm brewing the moment before lightning strikes. And they don’t so much as blink when she meets my gaze.
Her lips are painted red, quirking the slightest as she heads in my direction.
“Do you know her?” Aimee asks.
