CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Deuce glanced across the club to where Danny was lying on one of the leather sofas, staring blankly up at the ceiling. Her hair was a mess, her eye makeup smeared, she was still in yesterday’s clothes, a baggy black T-shirt and dark jeans. The same clothes she’d worn the day before and the day before that.

He watched as Dirty approached the couch and gave her knee a two-finger tap. She lifted her feet up, allowing Dirty to sit down beside her, laid her legs over his lap, and went back to staring up at the ceiling. It wasn’t as if Dirty was touching her, or even paying any attention to her at all. Instead, the guy propped his elbows up on the back of the couch, his gaze on a club rat standing by the bar.

Deuce turned to Eva. “She still won’t talk to you?”

Eva looked toward Danny, then back to him and pressed her lips together, shaking her head.

He sighed. “What about spring semester? Did she agree to sign up?”

“No, baby, she refused. Then not so nicely told me to ‘get the fuck away from her.’ ”

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered, running his hands through his hair. “What the fuck is wrong with her? She ain’t hangin’ with her friends, and the only person she isn’t shittin’ on is Cage. He ain’t sayin’ shit, and damn if that son of a bitch doesn’t know what’s really goin’ on.”

“He’s protecting her,” Eva said quietly. “It’s what big brothers do.”

“Yeah, well, he ain’t doin’ a very good job. She’s gettin’ booze and smoke from the boys; I can fuckin’ smell it on her. None of them are ownin’ up to it, but I fuckin’ know it. She’s always at the club, either sleepin’ or hangin’ ’round Dirty and Bucket.”

“They would never hurt her.”

“Yeah,” he gritted out. “I know. But they ain’t exactly the type I want my baby girl bein’ best fuckin’ friends with. Don’t know how she can even stand bein’ near Dirty, smellin’ the way he does.”

“I think they smell equally bad,” she whispered.

Deuce cut his eyes at her, frowning. “Babe. Not funny.”

“I didn’t say it was.”

“I could toss her ass in the shower,” he suggested. “Hold her down while you dump a bucket of dish soap over her head.”

Eva smiled wryly. “Somehow I don’t think that will go over very well.”

Yeah, he didn’t think so either, but he was sick of sitting around, doing nothing but watching his oldest daughter wasting away, not knowing why or how to fix it.

He was motherfucking cursed, had to be. As soon as shit started getting better with Eva, the second he thought he’d gotten the chance to put his family back to rights, his eldest daughter had done a face plant into crazy town.

His eyes still on Danny, Deuce watched as she pulled a pack of cigarettes from her jeans pocket. Fucking shit, she was smoking now?

“Danielle!” he yelled, unable to stop himself. This shit was too much. He wanted to know what the fuck was going on and he wanted to know right the fuck now.

The club grew quiet as all eyes turned to him. All except for Danny’s.

“God dammit,” he growled.

“Deuce,” Eva whispered, placing her hand on his arm. “I don’t think this is the best—”

“Fuck that,” he shot back, pulling away from her. “I’m not lettin’ this shit go any further.”

He stalked across the room, stopping beside the couch Danny was lying on, and glared at Dirty. The guy shot up and hurried off to the bar, but Danny’s eyes stayed trained on the ceiling.

“Danny,” he growled. “My office. Now.”

No response.

“Did you hear me?” he bellowed. “Get your ass into my office!”

She still didn’t look at him. Didn’t even flinch.

Even as his anger rose, his insides were aching. He wanted his daughter back. His bouncy, easily excitable daughter who never shut the fuck up, who was always wearing pink shit or fuzzy shit or something ridiculously sparkly.

“Fine,” he bit out. “You wanna do this right here, in front of everyone, that’s on you, baby girl.”

Danny turned her head ever so slightly toward him and his chest went tight. Dark circles ringed her eyes. She looked gaunt and the expression on her face…reminded him of Eva in the months after she’d killed Frankie. Pained. Sad. Lost.

“What do you want?” she said, her tone flat, devoid of emotion.

“What do I fuckin’ want? I want you to get your ass off the couch and into the fuckin’ shower ’cause, Danny, you smell worse than Dirty!”

“Hey,” Dirty muttered from the bar. Deuce ignored him.

“Then I want you to get your ass over to the school and sign the fuck up for spring semester!”

Rolling her eyes, she turned away. “No,” she said.

He was already fighting to keep control but, damn her, she was making it difficult.

“No?” he bit out. “You like livin’ with me rent-free? You like free meals, free clothin’, free fuckin’ everything? You don’t get your ass in gear, you’re on your own!”

“Whatever,” she said, and just as he was about to punch a hole in the wall behind the couch, Cage was suddenly up in his face, pushing him backward.

“Dad, leave her alone.”

He shoved his son in the chest and glared at the twenty-two-year-old version of himself. “Leave her alone? She’s my fuckin’ kid, not yours, and I ain’t leavin’ her alone.”

Danny burst out in humorless laughter. “Why not, Daddy?” she sneered. “You’re so good at it.”

Before he could explode, Cage was up his face again. “Dad, I’m askin’ you to leave it be. She doesn’t need this bullshit right now.”

• • •

Cringing, Eva watched Deuce and Cage stare each other down, both of their expressions murderous, wondering who was going to throw the first punch. They were the same height now, both big and broad, Cage only slightly leaner than Deuce but equally as strong.

The club was silent, unmoving, waiting for the father/son explosion they all knew was about to happen.

The two of them didn’t disappoint. They tore into each other, shouting insults, both of them trying to out-bellow the other. And through it all, the entire club was forced to listen to Danny’s life story as the two men closest to her violently rehashed everything Cage had decided Deuce and Christine had done wrong over the years. And it was a lot.

From her drunk of a mother slapping her around, to cheerleading competitions and gymnastics meets no one had gone to, and even a salt map, her third grade social studies project that Deuce had promised to make with her but never had. Cage kept firing, sparing no details, even bringing up that Danny had gone to him, her brother, when she’d gotten her first period because she hadn’t had anyone else.

Every woman inside the club flinched and Deuce, who’d gone rigid hearing this, lost his mind.

“You’re in my fuckin’ club, you little fuckin’ shit! You need to reel your bullshit in before—”

“I give two fucks about your club! You do whatever you gotta do, Dad, and if I gotta, I will take Danny far away from you and your fuckin’ club!”

Appearing beside Eva, Blue whistled under his breath. “Gotta hand it to the boy,” he said quietly. “He’s got balls talkin’ to Deuce like that.”

“I HATE YOU!” Danny screamed, on her feet, pushing in between the two of them. “I HATE YOU BOTH AND I HATE OUR FUCKED-UP FAMILY!”

“You hate me?” Cage demanded, grabbing her arm and roughly bringing her nose-to-nose with him. “You fuckin’ hate me?” he growled.

“You hate our family, Danny,” Deuce yelled, “you can get the fuck out of it!”

Looking up at his father, Cage’s eyes went wide with rage. “How about you get the fuck out of your bullshit club!”

Eva sighed. This was quickly spiraling out of control.

“You little shit,” Deuce yelled, reaching around Danny to slap the name patch on the front of Cage’s cut. “Talkin’ shit to me is one thing but talkin’ shit about the club? This is your fuckin’ club too!”

“Fuck you,” Cage spat. “I had a fuckin’ club long before this one! It was called the Dad ain’t never home, Mom’s drunk and cryin’ in her room, and Cage and Danny only have each other club!”

Okay, this was no longer spiraling, the West family was now well past any sort of control.

“Mick,” Eva called out, quickly crossing the room toward the chaos. “Grab one of them.” She pointed at Bucket. “You, grab another! And someone please grab Danny!”

“Let your sister go,” Mick said, grabbing Cage’s arm.

“This ain’t your business,” Cage growled.

“No,” Eva said, stopping beside Deuce. “It isn’t his business but it’s mine, and Cage, you need to let her go.”

“Not until she takes that bullshit about hatin’ me back!”

“What are you?” Eva yelled. “Five years old? This isn’t helping!”

“Fuck you, Eva!” Danny screamed. “We are not your business!”

“Shut your mouth!” Deuce bellowed just as Cage jerked out of Mick’s hold and slammed his fist into the guy’s face.

“I said this ain’t your business, Mick!”

“You little fuckin’ shit!” Deuce roared, lunging for Cage.

“Someone get Danny out of here!” Eva yelled, scrambling backward as father and son went barreling into each other.

ZZ got to Danny first, swept her off her feet, and tossed her up over his shoulder.

“Take her to her room!” Eva demanded. “And keep her there!”

She waited until ZZ disappeared around the corner, then turned to Mick. “You okay?”

Rubbing his jaw, Mick snorted. “Foxy, you know it ain’t the first time one of those assholes has punched me. Ain’t gonna be the last either. Runs in their blood.”

Sighing, she turned back to the father-and-son leather-clad ball of flying limbs and pained grunts. “Anyone want to help me out here?”

Not surprisingly, no one answered.