Page 68 of Joker's Ghost
“What the fuck are you doin’?” My tongue feels two sizes too big for my mouth.
“Taking your drunk ass home.”
“I got my bike outside.” I throw my arm toward the back hall, lose my balance and grip the granite bar top.
“No fuckin’ way you’re driving.” Cobra nudges me toward Python, then points to Rattler. “Give me the keys to the Escalade.”
Rattler throws them to Cobra, who hands them to Python.
I try to square my shoulders. “I don’t need you takin’ care of me.”
“Yeah, you do.” Python throws an annoying look to Cobra then pushes me toward the back door.
I eye my bike in the lot. “This is fuckin’ ridiculous.” I hoist myself in the Escalade, then fumble with the seatbelt three times before I get it buckled.
Python rolls his eyes, and I visualize me shoving my fistinto his smug face. He starts the SUV and silently wheels us out of the lot.
“So, is this the part where you tell me I’m acting like an asshole?” I know I’m being a prick, but I can’t seem to control my mouth.
Nothing.
“Go ahead, I know you want to.”
“What I want is for you to shut the fuck up for the next fifteen minutes until you become Daisy’s problem.”
“Daisy’s the best fuckin’ thing in my life—and my kids too.”
“Hmmm,” Python grunts.
“It’s true.” I huff out a laugh. “And she loves me. I don’t know why the fuck, but she does.” I rest my head against the headrest. “When we first got together in Miami, I used to tell her she was way outta my league. She was all classy and shit, and I was just some outlaw biker with a price on my head and a scar running down my jaw.” I turn my head to look at Python. “But she didn’t care.”
We ride the rest of the way in silence, and I marvel at how the streetlights resemble rainbows in the night. Kinda cool.
When we pull into my driveway, I wrestle with the seatbelt, and Python grabs my forearm. “For the last four nights, one of us has had to take you home and listen to your bullshit, but one thing you’re right about—Daisy and your kids are the best thing to ever happen to you—so don’t fuck it up.”
“Sage advice from my sergeant-at-arms.” I smirk around the words. “Did you forget I’m your VP?”
“No, did you? ‘Cause you sure ain’t acting like it.”
I grope for the door handle. “Fuck you.” I climb out of the SUV, slam the door, and throw Python the finger just to be a prick.
DAISY
“You know I don’t like going behind Joker’s back, but he keeps insisting everything’s fine when I know it isn’t.” I’msitting in the wooden chair facing Cobra’s desk. “I know something’s bothering him, but he won’t open up about it.”
Dakota is six weeks old, and I started letting Mrs. Parker watch her so I can go back to the garage two days a week. Today, I left the shop early with the excuse of doing errands, then called Cobra and asked him to meet me at The Gold Mine. In the beginning, I figured Joker just needed time, but after six weeks of watching him sleepwalk through life with little or no interest in anything—including sex—I decided it was time to take action.
“I get it, babe, but you know the way he gets.” Cobra cocks his head. “He’s stubborn as shit, and he won’t talk until he’s ready.”
“I know that, but I thought maybe he’s said something to you about what’s bothering him. ‘Cause something is definitely up with him. He’s drinking way too much, and I don’t want to see him go down that road again.”
“Even if he said something to me, it’s not my story to tell.”
“Really? You’re gonna play that card.” I tilt my head. “Or maybe you forgot how I got you and Sheena back together after you found out she kept her past mob ties from you.”
Cobra mashes his lips together, and I know I’ve got him.
“All right, but he really hasn’t said anything specific; he just seems off. Quiet, pissed off more than usual. And, yeah, he’s been drinking too much.”
