“Just worried about keeping her safe.”
Not sure I sound convincing to my own ears. My VP’s smart. He sees through the bullshit. That’s why he’s my number two.
“Right,” he drawls now, watching one of our prospects, Kade, take another vodka cranberry to where she’s sitting with the old ladies.
Kade’s the youngest guy here. Barely older than Sasha. He’d be a good match for her if he works out and patches in. Keep her safe.
Glass splinters and shards pepper the bar. I look down at my bleeding hand like it belongs to someone else. More scars for the collection.
“Give the man another round, prospect,” Diesel tells Wyatt as I reach for a cloth to mop up the blood. “Looks like he needs it.”
Sherry, a sweetbutt I occasionally let ride my dick, slides onto the stool at my other side, her hand grabbing mine and cooing at it.
“Need me to kiss it better, Prez?” she asks, seductively. Has her voice always been so fucking annoying? I never noticed before.
“Probably needs you to kiss something else, doll,” Diesel snickers before taking a swig of his beer.
“Love to,” she purrs. “Right here, baby?”
I push her wandering hands off with a grunt. “We’re at a wake, for fuck’s sake. Fucking kids around.”
“Right.” She giggles nervously. “Wanna head to the back?”
I rub my face with my uninjured hand. “Just fuck off, Sherry. Not in the mood.”
She slinks away without another word, knowing her place. Diesel waits until she’s out of earshot before smirking at me.
“Would be the first time you’re not in the mood to get your dick sucked, brother. I think you’re just not in the mood to get your dick sucked bySherry.”
“I gotta tell you to fuck off too?” I growl as I reach for my new glass.
Diesel backs off with his hands up.
“Give you a pass under the circumstances. But we’re gonna talk about the babe in the room tomorrow.”
I shoot him a glare. “Don’t call her that.”
“Touchy, touchy,” he singsongs before stalking over to Honey, one of his favorite club bunnies. Diesel has a type, and they all look a helluva lot like Officer Carpenter. Maybe the motherfucker shouldn’t be throwing any stones.
Without the distraction he offered, my eyes go to Sasha again. Like fucking magnets. She’s blinking hard, either trying to focus or trying not to cry. Judging by the way she’s swaying, it could be a bit of both. I’m not sure if I should cut her off or let her drink herself into a stupor—it’s her father’s funeral after all. And I’m doing my best to get there myself.
I knock back another shot like it’s water, then tap on the bartop. “One more, prospect.”
“Yes, sir.”
My eyes go to Kade, who’s mixing more drinks for the women.
“Prospect,” I call, nodding my chin at him so he knows who I’m speaking to.
“Yeah, Prez?” he asks respectfully.
“She’s a pretty girl, isn’t she?”
The question comes out gravelly, and Kade blinks at me.
“I’m sorry?”
Not yet, but you will be.
