LOLA, AKA DADDY’S LITTLE GIRL HAS GOT ISSUES

I find myself too flipping shocked about the Val thing to do more than follow Duke around for the rest of the day. I sit quietly in the corner of Blood-Red Suns’ clubhouse while my dad explains the club’s future to the meatheads.

My father spent years rounding up every halfway decent young man in this area. Many had no dads or loser ones. Duke was a shining star in a town filled with black holes. These young men couldn’t help feeling drawn to him. The club offered them direction and a chance at a better life.

Duke has always kept them in line and not just through aggression. He can be truly inspiring. Yet, if violence is necessary, my dad fights better than any of those younger mooks.

“I never teach them my secrets,” was how he explained how he always wins. “After enough of them lost fights, they stopped trying.”

Only a few tried, especially after Duke and Dallas got into a huge brawl. I’ve never forgiven my uncle for challenging my father in such a public way. There was no universe where Dallas could win. Why embarrass himself and injure my dad on a pipedream?

All because my slutty aunt Gingerly was convinced her man was the real brains behind the Blood-Red Suns. She stopped spewing that nonsense after my father overpowered Dallas. In the end, she threw herself over her man’s limp body when my dad kept stomping on the defeated man’s crotch.

“You’ll steal his manhood!” she cried in horror.

Duke only shrugged and spat blood on the ground. “I’m okay with that. Are we done here?”

My uncle admitted defeat, and the younger guys earned even more respect for the man who led them.

That doesn’t mean they don’t go rabble-rouser when they hear the news about the club’s future.

“I don’t want to be a Rawkfist fucker,” Cubby whines. I instantly glare at the asshole with his long, stringy black hair and a somewhat handsome face. “What the hell is a ‘rawkfist’ anyway?”

“Would you rather be patched over by the Charleston club?” Duke demands.

Cubby’s thick shoulders sag. None of these men want to be bossed around by the crazy dictator running the Charleston club. That doesn’t mean they want to take orders from Val Mercer, either.

I picture the beautiful beefcake standing where my dad is and exerting his power over these men. The image feels like a lie. Val is gorgeous and funny, but he isn’t Duke.

“We’re all making sacrifices here,” my dad explains when the men mutter in quiet defiance. “I built this club out of nothing. My mom came up with the name. The Blood-Red Suns was my third baby, and it’ll be gone soon.”

Duke’s voice refuses to reveal his pain. He always hides the stress and loneliness he feels at the top. Those unspent feelings built up until he had a panic attack and saw his life ending.

Right now, none of his fears are obvious. He mostly looks annoyed by their whining.

“Let’s remember how we got here,” Duke grumbles and lets his dark-blue gaze wash over them. “I tried to mentor more than one of you dumbasses, but you always want to be each other’s buddies. No rules for the bros, right?”

Though the club members act like big dumb kids, they’re all huge men. If just one of them could have grown a brain, maybe Val Mercer wouldn’t be my father’s only choice.

“What about Dallas?” Cubby asks.

“He likes Florida, and I prefer him in another state.”

“Maybe we should all go to Florida,” Mucky says, and I notice other guys nodding.

“Dude, no,” Cubby tells the man next to him. “I tried that shit, and it’s so hot. Made my balls itch all the time.”

“That’s the kind of wisdom that makes it hard to believe you couldn’t keep Tuesday Mercer interested,” Knobby mutters, winning a shove from Cubby.

“I want you to remember this moment,” Duke says in a scary hard voice. “When you feel like Val is a bad president or you don’t like wearing the Rawkfist vest, you remember this moment right here. I’m giving up my club to keep you assholes safe. I tried to teach one of you, just one fucking guy, to run things. None of you wanted to step up. So now, you’ll take shit from Val Mercer and his club. And if any of you give me pushback over that decision, I plan to remind you of this moment by punching you in the fucking throat.”

Like scolded children who’ve let down their dad, the dozen men lower their heads. I want to smirk at their submission. Except my dad isn’t happy, meaning I can’t find any joy in their behavior.

After the meatheads receive their lecture, Duke heads to his office with me close behind.

“Why are you tailing me like a scared kid?” he asks after shutting the door behind us.

“I don’t know.”

Duke settles into his chair and studies me. “Are you thinking of backing out?”

“No.”

“You know him, right?”

“Yes.”

“So why do you look like you’re terrified?”

“Val is a dream up here,” I say and tap my head as I sink into the chair across from him. “That’s where I figured he’d stay. Now he’s all up in my face and business.”

“A dream, huh?” Duke asks, cocking an eyebrow. “That’s dangerous thinking.”

“Because of the curse?”

“Relationships work better if you come into them with self-control. If you’re already weak-kneed, he’ll own all the power.”

“I don’t plan to focus on him. I’ll just think about saving the club and our town.”

Duke frowns. “Maybe this is a mistake.”

“I want a baby,” I blurt out, and he frowns harder. “Can you imagine how adorable a baby with Val would be?”

Letting his gaze wander around the room, Duke considers my words. He finally shrugs and looks back at me.

“He isn’t ugly. That’s for sure. But if he hassles you or gets aggressive, you tell me, and I’ll end him.”

“And start a war with the Rawkfist club.”

“Sure, why not? These idiots don’t even care. I ought to let the entire club burn to dust.”

His words are filled with anger, yet I also hear the hurt behind them.

“In their minds, nothing is changing. They assume you’ll figure everything out for them. Bad things won’t happen.”

Duke nods, seeming tired. “I need to know what matters to me will be safe.”

“Val Mercer is important to the Rawkfist club. He’s in their top tier. His uncle runs the club. If Charleston starts trouble here, Rawkfist will care more because Val is in danger. We’ll be okay.”

Studying me, Duke is likely putting things together about Val and me. I’ve kept my feelings to myself over the last few months. Clover knew about Val, but she probably didn’t get how much I liked him. Now Duke is wondering what else I’ve kept secret.

Refusing to fess up, I focus instead on my grandmother and sister arriving at the bar. The meatheads have taken off to whine elsewhere. With the bar mostly empty, I settle at a table with Erin and Clover while Duke stands behind the bar top and watches us.

“On a scale of one to ten,” Erin says as she sips her water, “how hideous is your intended husband?”

“It’s Val Mercer.”

“Oh,” is all Clover mumbles while keeping her gaze down.

My sister is a nineteen-year-old tomboy. Clover wears her dark hair around her shoulders and usually covers it with a cap from her extensive collection. She prefers baggy harem pants and oversized T-shirts over her lean frame. She wears combat boots and a nose ring. Guys in high school claimed she was a lesbian, but Clover doesn’t want to date anyone.

Behind our backs, Basin Rock townsfolk call us “the Virgin and the Whore.” However, our father’s dangerous reputation keeps their fat mouths shut when we can hear.

“Wait, isn’t Val Mercer the man from the grocery store?” Erin asks as my father joins us and frowns at me.

“That was him? You said it was a confused pervert with a potato head.”

“I might have lied,” I reply without looking at Duke.

“Does this Val fellow have a potato head?” Erin asks no one in particular.

Yanking my phone from my pocket, I reveal a picture from the night I met Val. He was dancing around, trying to prove he could be a male stripper. I egged him on despite the question of his sexual appeal never being in doubt.

“Oh, I approve,” Erin announces. “Sex is so much better when their heads aren’t super starchy.”

My sister snickers while Duke loops from the front of the bar to the back where I sit.

“Why do you have a picture of Val Mercer?”

“It’s spank bank material.”

Duke’s eyes nearly roll right out of his head. My sister and grandma laugh at his reaction while I shrug.

“It’s okay, Dad. I’m an adult now, so it’s no longer gross.”

“Uh-huh.”

Duke walks to the front door, surveys the road from the window, and shoots a grumpy glance back at us. “If you’re interested in seeing the pretty boy up close, he’s outside for some fucking reason.”

Erin hurries over and pats her son’s cheek. “You’re cussing too much. Go get one of those massages with the happy endings. It’ll relax you.”

Duke ignores her advice while I look out to where Val stands next to his slick red motorcycle. My beefcake fiancé acts confused like he isn’t sure why he’s here.

I admire his bare and buff arms before letting my gaze drift down to his toned tummy and thick-as-tree-trunk thighs. The man’s built like a Mac truck. If he weren’t so beautiful, he’d be more terrifying. With his good looks, I can’t picture him putting the Blood-Red Suns members in their place.

“Why is he here?” Duke asks after settling on a stool and trying to get his temper under control.

“I don’t know.”

“Someone go ask.”

“He’s your heir,” Erin points out. “Go make him do pushups or something.”

“Yes,” Clover says and steps away from the front window. “He looks amped up like an angry bull. Make him do a lot of calisthenics, so he’ll lose the attitude.”

Erin pours Duke a drink and murmurs, “Or Lola could give him a happy ending.”

Gasping, I cry, “Grandma!”

“Don’t play prude with me, young lady,” she replies, ignoring my father’s annoyed expression. “Not after the many times we’ve bragged about our scorecards.”

Duke exhales in the way he gets when he’s drowning in estrogen. As much as I want to soothe my agitated father, I can’t help opening the door and walking outside. Val Mercer might never love me. Our marriage could easily turn into a never-ending headache. I might very well end up miserable.

Yet, I’m drawn to his beauty like a moth to a flame.