The Girl's Got Secrets (Forbidden Men #7)(56)

Relieved, I sang a little stronger to make up for it, and no one seemed to notice. They cheered us on, and danced, and seemed to have fun.

By the time we finished, I was drenched in sweat but riding an adrenaline high that felt freaking incredible. The owner—yeah, the actual owner—met us behind the stage to invite us back again in a month, and I only had to glance at my bandmates for them to agree, so I bobbed my head yes.

After that, we were given coupons for discounted drinks at the bar, and I think all four of us were too wired to crash yet, so we took them and headed out into the club.

Gally immediately disappeared, on the search for a one-night stand, but Holden, Sticks and I found a free table to park ourselves. It took a few minutes for people to recognize us, but soon a trio of carbon copy blondes were gathered at our table, one particularly bold as she slid right up onto my knee and perched herself there to tell me how much she’d liked watching us.

Her perfume was strong, but her body was soft and oh-so feminine, and I had all this excess energy to expend; I didn’t send her away. I even set a hand on her waist so I didn’t have to worry about her losing her balance and tumbling off my leg. She flirted with me while her friends gathered closer, one of them finally turning to Sticks to talk to him.

I knew the woman on my lap would be willing if I wanted to take this any further. Hell, I had a feeling she’d be willing if I wanted to drag her off to some private corner in the club and take her right then. But something kept stopping me from acting, probably the way she kept calling me by my first and last name together.

Annoying as hell.

We’d been sitting there less than ten minutes when someone approached, calling my name.

I glanced over and nearly fell out of my chair when I met my dad’s snickering gaze.

“What the hell?” I demanded. “What’re you doing here?”

“We need to talk.” He leered at the cleavage of the woman on my lap before returning his attention to me. “Now.”

“Wha… How did you find me?”

“It’s posted on your little band’s website. Since they kicked me out of that shithole you usually play at and I haven’t gotten your home address yet, this is the only place I could reach you.”

“He doesn’t want to talk to you,” Sticks answered for me, appearing at my side so he could fold his arms over his chest and glare at my dad.

The old man blinked at him before snorting. “What the f*ck is this?” he asked me. “Your bodyguard. Little bastard’s smaller than I am.”

“I’m also younger, faster, and armed,” Sticks reported, narrowing his eyes.

His posturing amused me, and kind of delighted me since it meant he cared enough to have my back, but it was totally unnecessary.

“Excuse me a minute, sweetheart.” I scooted the woman off my lap and then stood before telling Remy, “I got this.” Motioning my dad to follow me, I found the quietest place possible to hear whatever he had to say. When I noticed my drummer had followed us and stopped a few feet away, I rolled my eyes. He really was worried, the weirdo.

Then I faced the guy who used to be my living nightmare. But yeah, I couldn’t summon my old fear of him. I was a head taller and wider than him now. He just looked shriveled and crude, and bitter. I couldn’t even think of him as a killer. I’d been there, I’d seen his shock. He hadn’t meant to take her life.

He was nothing but a nasty, washed-up bully.

“What do you want?” I asked, folding my arms over my chest.

“I want to know where my stash is,” he snarled, moving intimidatingly close, which was also a joke.

I shook my head, clueless. “What stash?”

“The f*cking stash I had hidden away when they arrested me.”

Barking out a laugh, I shook my head. I hadn’t seen the guy in sixteen years, and all he cared about were his drugs? No sorry for murdering your mother, for all the split lips and black eyes, for raising you like a slave. Just where’s my drugs?

It figured.

“And you honestly think I know what happened to that shit?” I kept swishing my head back and forth. “They never let me back into the apartment. I don’t know what happened to anything.”

Growling out his disappointment, the old man gnawed on his bottom lip. “So you think the cops found it?”

I lifted my hands. “I have no idea. And honestly, I don’t give a flying f*ck what happened to your drugs. You’re on your own with this one.”

I started to walk past him but he grabbed my shirtsleeve. “Hey, I’m not done talking to you, you little cocksucker.”

Sticks shifted toward us, sliding his hand into his pocket. My dad darted him a scowl but immediately eased up on me. Leaning closer, he snarled. “You owe me. I kept that bitch from killing you I don’t know how many times, from drowning you in the bathtub or suffocating you with a pillow. I kept you breathing and provided for you.”

I glanced at him impassively. “And yet I have no idea why.” He’d never shown me an ounce of compassion himself.

“Because you were supposed to turn out like me.” He started to step even closer but then remembered Remy and sent him a cautious glance. When he turned back, his lip curled into a sneer. “But you had to go and turn out like this.”

I shook my head and sighed, focusing on Sticks because I couldn’t look at the waste of space that was supposed to be my father. “I told you I don’t know where your stash is, and I don’t. So...we’re done here.”