Play for Keeps (The Devil's Share #6)(15)

“I don’t want to disappoint Dash. I want to give him the family he’s asking for. I just, uh, I just want to be me for a little bit first. I wouldn’t trade Halen for anything in this world. But I went from being Lexi who did whatever she wanted to do when she wanted to do it to being a fiancée and a mom. It all happened so fast. I feel like I need time to settle into this life. To find my rhythm, before adding another baby to the mix.”

She shook her head, tears filling her eyes. I glanced over at Lo; we were both in shock. Lex rarely let her emotions show like this.

“I hate feeling like I’m letting Dash down. But I’m not ready. And as much as I try to convince myself that everything will be fine, I know my heart’s not in it. I don’t want another baby right now.”

Harlow reached across the couch and took Lexi’s hand in hers. “All Dash was thinking about was how in love with Halen he is. How much he loved you being pregnant with his child. He wasn’t taking into account how hard it was on your body. How hard it is emotionally.” She smiled. “He’s a man. He has no idea how much being a mom takes out of you.” She laughed. “Not that I have any idea about it either. But I watch you and Bryan, I see.”

Life tended to move fast when you were in the Devil’s Share family. Seemed like we added new members every few months or so. I knew eventually Jacks and I would have more kids, but I was in no rush to be pregnant either. I was just getting the hang of parenting a ten-year-old. An infant would knock me on my ass for sure.





Chapter Thirteen





Luke

“To be fair, when Jacks and I decided that getting Smith wasted was a good idea, we’d only been in the car less than an hour. We weren’t really thinking about the long-term effects.” I winced when Jacks fell to the ground for the second time in the parking lot of the Isle Capri Casino.

Dash shot me yet another fuck-you-man look as he basically carried Smith through the large glass doors. “You think?”

I grabbed Jacks by the arm and dragged him along behind me, with both our duffle bags in my other hand. How Jacks got Smith to down a bottle of whiskey with him, I’ll never know. But they’d turned it into a game. A game only they knew the rules to, but they’d both laughed a lot. And Smith had let loose and had some fun. So it was hard to be too irritated.

“Come on, bro. You’re making Dash put that stick he likes to carry around back up his ass. Can you at least try to walk like a grown adult?”

Jacks straightened and tried to walk upright. But he ended up looking like Johnny Depp playing Jack Sparrow. “I want to go play the slot machines. Let’s gamble.” He tried to veer off in the direction of the lights and sounds of the casino floor.

I grabbed him by the back of his shirt and pulled him toward the check-in desk where Dash was standing and Smith was dancing some kind of jig. “No way, man. You’re going to get us kicked out of here before we can even make it to our room. Stay right by my side. You hear me?”

He saluted me and then snickered. “Talk about a stick up the ass.”

I let out a deep sigh and joined Dash. I was going to need to call room service for some ibuprofen. Stat. These two were giving me a headache. They were equal parts hilarious and annoying. “Smith. What are you doing?”

He stopped moving and looked at me, a concerned look on his face. “I’m dancing.”

“There isn’t any music.” I reached out and grabbed Jacks when he tried to wander off again.

Smith’s face turned from confused to appalled as he pointed toward the ceiling. I assumed to the speakers. “No music? Are you deaf? This is zydeco, man. This is the music of my people. Of my soul.” He started to dance again. This time Jacks joined him.

“I got us in the biggest suite they had. Let’s get these two upstairs before we draw a crowd.” Dash took Smith by the back of his shirt, and Smith reached out for Jacks’ hand. They were like a kindergarten train walking toward the elevators.

We had all gotten so used to either being at the compound or at the Riffraff offices. It was rare that we were in a position to be recognized lately, let alone in a place like this where word could spread and we’d be prisoners in our room until checkout.

Dash and I rode the elevator in silence, watching Smith and Jacks continue to dance and laugh. When we got into our suite, Smith went to the bathroom and Jacks opened the mini bar. He grabbed every bottle in there and then dumped them all on the nearest bed. “Who’s ready for another drink?”

I looked across the room at Dash, and then we both looked down at the booze covering the bedspread. I kind of assumed that Jacks and Smith would just pass out when we got to our suite, but Jacks was smiling like a madman, looking between Dash and me, clearly waiting for us to pick our poison. And Smith was in the bathroom singing “Jambalaya” by Hank Williams at the top of his lungs. “I figure we have two options here, bro.”

Jambalaya, crawfish pie and fillet gumbo

He put his hands on hips. “Oh yeah.”

’Cause tonight I’m gonna see my ma-chere-amie-oh

I nodded. “We can either spend the rest of the night irritated as fuck with our two bandmates and their drunken shenanigans.”

Pick guitar, fill fruit jar and be gay-oh

“Or?”

I picked up a tiny bottle of scotch and twisted the cap. “Or. We join them and get into some trouble.”