Unbeautifully (Undeniable, #2)(56)

Aw f*ck, he wanted her back.

Cursing, Ripper picked up an air ratchet and got back to work.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Deuce glanced across the club to where Danny was lying on one of the leather sofas, staring blankly up at the ceiling. Her hair was a mess, her eye makeup smeared, she was still in yesterday’s clothes, a baggy black T-shirt and dark jeans. The same clothes she’d worn the day before and the day before that.

He watched as Dirty approached the couch and gave her knee a two-finger tap. She lifted her feet up, allowing Dirty to sit down beside her, laid her legs over his lap, and went back to staring up at the ceiling. It wasn’t as if Dirty was touching her, or even paying any attention to her at all. Instead, the guy propped his elbows up on the back of the couch, his gaze on a club rat standing by the bar.

Deuce turned to Eva. “She still won’t talk to you?”

Eva looked toward Danny, then back to him and pressed her lips together, shaking her head.

He sighed. “What about spring semester? Did she agree to sign up?”

“No, baby, she refused. Then not so nicely told me to ‘get the f*ck away from her.’?”

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered, running his hands through his hair. “What the f*ck is wrong with her? She ain’t hangin’ with her friends, and the only person she isn’t shittin’ on is Cage. He ain’t sayin’ shit, and damn if that son of a bitch doesn’t know what’s really goin’ on.”

“He’s protecting her,” Eva said quietly. “It’s what big brothers do.”

“Yeah, well, he ain’t doin’ a very good job. She’s gettin’ booze and smoke from the boys; I can f*ckin’ smell it on her. None of them are ownin’ up to it, but I f*ckin’ know it. She’s always at the club, either sleepin’ or hangin’ ’round Dirty and Bucket.”

“They would never hurt her.”

“Yeah,” he gritted out. “I know. But they ain’t exactly the type I want my baby girl bein’ best f*ckin’ friends with. Don’t know how she can even stand bein’ near Dirty, smellin’ the way he does.”

“I think they smell equally bad,” she whispered.

Deuce cut his eyes at her, frowning. “Babe. Not funny.”

“I didn’t say it was.”

“I could toss her ass in the shower,” he suggested. “Hold her down while you dump a bucket of dish soap over her head.”

Eva smiled wryly. “Somehow I don’t think that will go over very well.”

Yeah, he didn’t think so either, but he was sick of sitting around, doing nothing but watching his oldest daughter wasting away, not knowing why or how to fix it.

He was motherf*cking cursed, had to be. As soon as shit started getting better with Eva, the second he thought he’d gotten the chance to put his family back to rights, his eldest daughter had done a face plant into crazy town.

His eyes still on Danny, Deuce watched as she pulled a pack of cigarettes from her jeans pocket. Fucking shit, she was smoking now?

“Danielle!” he yelled, unable to stop himself. This shit was too much. He wanted to know what the f*ck was going on and he wanted to know right the f*ck now.

The club grew quiet as all eyes turned to him. All except for Danny’s.

“God dammit,” he growled.

“Deuce,” Eva whispered, placing her hand on his arm. “I don’t think this is the best—”

“Fuck that,” he shot back, pulling away from her. “I’m not lettin’ this shit go any further.”

He stalked across the room, stopping beside the couch Danny was lying on, and glared at Dirty. The guy shot up and hurried off to the bar, but Danny’s eyes stayed trained on the ceiling.

“Danny,” he growled. “My office. Now.”

No response.

“Did you hear me?” he bellowed. “Get your ass into my office!”

She still didn’t look at him. Didn’t even flinch.

Even as his anger rose, his insides were aching. He wanted his daughter back. His bouncy, easily excitable daughter who never shut the f*ck up, who was always wearing pink shit or fuzzy shit or something ridiculously sparkly.

“Fine,” he bit out. “You wanna do this right here, in front of everyone, that’s on you, baby girl.”

Danny turned her head ever so slightly toward him and his chest went tight. Dark circles ringed her eyes. She looked gaunt and the expression on her face…reminded him of Eva in the months after she’d killed Frankie. Pained. Sad. Lost.

“What do you want?” she said, her tone flat, devoid of emotion.

“What do I f*ckin’ want? I want you to get your ass off the couch and into the f*ckin’ shower ’cause, Danny, you smell worse than Dirty!”

“Hey,” Dirty muttered from the bar. Deuce ignored him.

“Then I want you to get your ass over to the school and sign the f*ck up for spring semester!”

Rolling her eyes, she turned away. “No,” she said.

He was already fighting to keep control but, damn her, she was making it difficult.

“No?” he bit out. “You like livin’ with me rent-free? You like free meals, free clothin’, free f*ckin’ everything? You don’t get your ass in gear, you’re on your own!”