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“Fair enough,” I say. “You have every right to be able to form your own opinions. Just… please, be careful.”
“I am. It’s my dad I need to worry about, not those scary-ass motherfuckers. Cruz has made it very clear to all of them as to what would happen should anyone hurt a hair on my head.”
“Well, that’s something at least,” I mutter, heading for one of the empty stalls.
The girls change the subject to something a little safer to be discussing in public. Even if we are surrounded by all these power-hungry and dangerous men, it seems sensible not to be openly talking about them and our connections.
Calli is happily relaying to Emmie how Teagan fell flat on her face from halfway up the pyramid at their last cheer practice as we make our way back to the bar.
Someone walking toward us, his wide, leather-covered frame taking up damn near the whole fucking hallway, makes us move to the side.
I look at him and recognition hits me. His face is looking a little healthier than the last time I saw him, but I know it’s him. I recognise the eyes.
He nods at me, clearly knowing exactly who I am as well.
“Joker,” I say in greeting, needing him to know that I’m more than aware of who he is.
“Princess,” he snarls, making my brows draw together in confusion. No one calls me that aside from my boys. But when I focus once more, I find him looking over my shoulder at Emmie—who just growls in frustration.
“Fuck off, Joker, before I fucking castrate you.”
“You weren’t saying that the other night.” He winks as he leers at her. The look makes my skin crawl. He’s not much older than us, and without all the blood covering his face, he’s not bad to look at, but something about him just gives me a major case of the creeps.
He disappears down the hall toward the bathroom before I get a chance to respond.
Spinning on my toes, I place my hands on my hips and pin Emmie with a look. “The other night?” I ask with my brow quirked. “Something you need to tell us, Princess?”
She flips me off, her lips curled in disgust at the nickname.
“He just took me for a ride. His bike is fast as fuck. It was amazing.”
“Adrenaline junkie,” I mutter, laughing.
“Oh, like you’re one to talk. What did I hear about a midnight drag race?”
“How’d you know about that?” I ask, my voice a little harsher than I was intending.
Emmie frowns at me in confusion. “Uh… Calli told me.”
Calli nods in agreement.
“I need a fucking drink,” I mutter, turning away from them, more than ready to find Seb and get the hell out of here.
I agreed to drive so we could flee if he needed it, but I’m starting to regret it because some alcohol would really fucking help right now.
“I was about to come and find you,” Seb says from behind me a second before looping his arms around my waist and resting his chin on my shoulder.
“Sorry, we got to talking.” I nod to Calli and Emmie.
“You two be good. No fucking the bad boys in the backroom,” Seb warns both of them. Emmie rolls her eyes, her usual resting bitch face firmly in place, while Calli’s eyes widen in shock.
“Keep your knickers on, Baby C. It was a joke. Jesus.” Calli’s tiny fists curl and her lips purse. “Someone really needs to get laid,” Seb whispers in my ear.
“Sebastian,” I warn, reaching behind me and slapping wherever I can reach.
“What? I meant me. I need to get laid.”
“Jesus. We’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?” I say to the girls, holding Emmie’s eyes a little longer to get the confirmation I need from her about something we’ve been planning.
