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“Who is Big Bad JD?” Kyle laughs as he looks at the screen with me.
“A pain in my ass,” I shout back, with a dramatic eye roll thrown in for good measure. “I gotta take this. Be back in two secs.”
“I’ll be right here, chica,” Kyle smiles.
I step into a quieter part of the club and answer the call. “Hey, Jax.”
“Where are you, Lucia?”
“In some club,” I reply. I look up to see Kyle making his way over to me with another shot of tequila in his hand.
“Have you been drinking?”
“Only one or two,” I lie again as Kyle hands me a drink. He pulls me close to him, his hand skating over my waist and making me giggle.
“Lucia.”
“Or maybe more,” I admit. “I kind of lost count. The guys have been buying me shots.”
“Shots? What guys?” he snarls. “What’s the name of the club?”
“I’m not sure,” I admit as I look around.
“Lucia!”
“Hang on,” I sigh, covering the mouthpiece. “What’s this place called?” I ask Kyle, who is now standing behind me, pressing his body into mine as he tries to get me to dance with him.
“Deemon,” he replies in my ear.
I take my hand from the phone. “Kyle says it’s called Deemon.”
“Jesus fucking Christ, Lucia. What the hell are you doing in that dive bar?” Jax snaps. “Stay right where you are.”
I groan loudly down the phone, but he hasn’t finished speaking.
“And tell Kyle if he lays a fucking finger on you, I will tear off his arm and shove it up his ass.”
The line goes dead and I put my cell into my purse before turning back to Kyle. Should I tell him my father’s right hand man is on his way here right now to drag me out of this club?
“Okay?” Kyle grins at me.
My head swims slightly and I blink in the dim light.
“You okay, chica?” he asks again, handing me another lemon wedge to go with my tequila shot.
“What? Yes.” I smile before I down it in one. “Let’s go dance.”
“I love this song,” I shout as the first bars of Señorita by Shawn Mendes and Camila Cabello play loudly over the last song.
“Hey! Me too.” Kyle grins at me as he puts his arms around my waist. I stare into his eyes as our hips sway to the music. “You are so fucking hot when you dance, chica,” he whispers in my ear.
“You think?” I giggle.
He doesn’t have the chance to respond because he is gone — dragged backwards by the collar of his polo shirt until I am left staring up at the giant wall of muscle and fury that is Jackson Decker.
“What the hell?” I slur but he turns his attention to Kyle.
“You think it’s okay to get underage girls drunk?” he snarls as he brings his face close to Kyle’s.
