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Niccolo
The foam party taking place at Red Dawg is no surprise. The place is a cesspool of college boys trying to take advantage of drunk girls. I swear to God, if I weren’t on a mission to find Christine, I’d round up all these underage girls and take them home. Unfortunately, I have to find my drunk stepdaughter first.
How anyone can find anyone in this place is a mystery. The smell of soap assaults my senses as I fight my way through sudsy adolescents groping one another while slipping and sliding every which way. This should be illegal. I feel like I’ve caught a minimum of three diseases rubbing up on these kids.
I find Christine bellied up at the bar next to some tall, tan, blonde-haired prick who looks like he’s trying to secure her number. “Beat it, pretty boy.”
He stiffens at the sight of me and narrows his eyes. “Who the fuck are you?”
I grab the front of his pristine white shirt and drag him toward me. He towers over me by six inches, but I could kick his ass withone hand tied behind my back. “I’m this girl’s stepfather. If you don’t get the hell away from her right now, you’ll be picking your teeth off the floor one by one. Do you hear me?”
The color drains from his face as his eyes widen in terror, sweat beading along his forehead. “Yo, whatever you say, man. I don’t even know this girl,” his voice shaking as he responds.
“Theo,” Christine chastises. The two of them lock eyes for a moment before he flees. He doesn’t even have the balls to look back and make sure she’s okay.
“You can do better than him.”
Christine rolls her eyes as she grabs the plastic cup in front of her. “Relax. It’s water,” she says when I reach to take it away from her. “Don’t get your panties in a twist.”
“Are you here alone?” I ask, ignoring her jibe.
She waves at the space behind her. “Kaye is here somewhere. I lost her a while ago. She went to the bathroom and then never came back. I think she went home.”
There are two drunk girls out here making stupid decisions, then. “Text her.”
Christine throws back the last of the water. “Youtext her.”
I grab her by the arm and tighten my fingers into a harsh band. The skin creases slightly as she tries to pull away, but my grip on her is tight. “Text her that I’m taking you home. Now, Christine.”
“You can’t make me leave,” Christine glowers at me. “I’ll scream.”
Someone bumps into me from behind, sending me careening into my stepdaughter. These slippery floors are going to cause someone to break their neck.
“Scream then,” I growl. A second later, I hoist her in the air and toss her over my shoulder.
The crowd around us breaks, backing up to give us room. The blonde asshole that was talking to her earlier stands at the end of the bar, watching with wide eyes. Some guy. He doesn’t even race forward to save his woman. If I ever find out who he is, I’m kicking his ass.
Christine beats on my back as I carry her through the club. It’s a nice massage that helps get the knots out of my shoulders. The flashing lights and pulsing music of the club create an almost hypnotic atmosphere as I navigate through the crowded dance club. “I hate you!” She yells.
I reach up to smack her on the ass, quieting her outburst. “Shut up.”
As disruptive as we are to the party, the second we pass by, the crowd re-forms, and we’re all but forgotten.
I reach the bank of bathrooms, pick one, and deposit Christine on the ground before shutting and locking the door behind us. “Text Kaye, now. See if she wants a ride home.”
Christine petulantly crosses her arms over her chest. “No,” she argues. “I don’t want to text Kaye, and I don’t want to go home. I’m here to party, Nic.”
“I don’t care what you’re here to do; I’m here to take you home. When you text me pics of you and your friends flashing some stranger on camera, the night is over. You can fight me all youwant, but I’m bigger and stronger, and I will carry you out of here kicking and screaming if I have to.”
Her gaze sharpens, her pretty brown eyes narrowing into slits. “You wouldn’t dare,” she challenges with a hint of feistiness in her voice as if daring me to prove her wrong.
I take one menacing step forward and crack my knuckles. “You wanna fuckingbet?”
Something snaps inside Christine. I see the shift in her eyes just seconds before she closes the gap between us and presses her lips to mine.
I fist her hair, tangling my fingers in her red locks. She is soft and demanding, her mouth tart from the taste of vodka cranberry, and I swirl my tongue around hers hungrily.
I slide my hand down to cup her ass cheek while the other cradles the back of her head possessively. The heat radiating off her body matches mine as we press against one another, each trying to take control.
