Page 67 of Silver Fox Daddies

Has he incinerated his fallen yet?

I finally muster up enough courage to look into his eyes.

“See. This is what happens when you get on the booze.” He opens his mouth to say something else but the waiter intervenes, rushing to sweep up all the broken shards on the carpet. “It’s okay, I can get it. I apologize on my daughter’s behalf.”

“No, sir, really, it is?—”

“I said I got it!” he snaps.

Some of the people at nearby tables turn around to stare.

I look up at the waiter. “I apologize on my father’s behalf.”

The man hides his grin and bows modestly at my father, leaving us alone.

Daddy’s face grows even more angry. “Don’t you dare ridicule me again.”

“It was just a joke, Daddy.”

He points to his face, the fingernail totally crushed. “Do you see me laughing?”

I shake my head.

“No.” He takes a deep sigh, changing the subject. “Partying, booze, and boys. Stay away. You have a career to build for yourself.”

Except I don’t.He’sthe one trying to build a career, murdering an entire club to gain territory in the desert.

I sit back in my seat, my lips sealed. Daddy has been my role model ever since I was born, priding himself on hard work.

Now, I’m coming to realize that it’s nothing to do with hard work. He doesn’t study, and he doesn’t shake hands with the right people at networking events. He just has a deranged brain, and kills his way to the top.

I lift my chin to prevent a tear from falling. Everything I once thought to be true has been made a lie. How am I supposed to recover from this? It would be easier to go back to the way things were, to wish I had never met the bikers in the first place, but the truth is, I don’t regret it one bit.

I thought my father was the good guy, but now when I stare into his dull eyes, I’m starting to see differently. There’s a reason why I’ve always felt an invisible ten-foot pole between us at all times. He doesn’t want me getting close to his business. Seeing him for who he really is.

But it’s too late now.

I know exactly who he is, and something tells me he’s even more deadly than the club he wants gone.

It’sdark when I head back to my dorm room. A full moon shines between two high-rise buildings, a few stars shining weakly in the sky.

I tap my card key against the reader and practically fall into my room. Natasha must be out, makeup scattered all over her unmade bed, a hand mirror facing up. It’s Friday, so she probably received a party invite from somebody.

I collapse onto my bed and shut my eyes, a terrible headache forming in my right temple. Slipping out my phone, I scroll through notifications, feeling slightly more at ease when I see that the boys have texted.

Cash: How are you doing?

I stare at the screen for a moment, debating what to type. How do I explain that I smashed a glass in a restaurant tonight and upset my father? How do I explain that I keep seeing the blood, keep hearing the cracking of breaking bones?

Clearly, involving myself in all of this isn’t good for my well-being, but if flashbacks are the price I have to pay to continue seeing the bikers, I’m more than happy to hand over the cash.

Me: I miss you, TBH.

Cash: We miss you too, but you gotta keep away.

Diesel: Yeah, we don’t want you to be in the firing range.

Me: I’m worried about you. Have there been any more attacks?

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