Sinful (Diamondback MC 6)

“Okay, um... I’m just going to get changed and get started for the day. Especially now that I don’t have to polish the silver.” I roll my eyes at that thought.

“I’m sorry. It’s not enough, but I am just the same.” I watch as my dad stands up and walks towards me. I’m still glued to the floor, a part of me ecstatic that he’s willing to change, the other more apprehensive than ever. Though, to be fair, he’s never come out and apologized before or said he’d go to meetings, so my fingers are crossed that he does it, not for me but for himself.

“Thanks, Dad.” He kisses my forehead and then walks towards the place that’s sectioned off as our home. I look around the Inn. Everything is as clean as it always is, the breakfast stuff is put away, there are no guests out to witness our interaction, and hopefully, it was much the same last night. Ugh, that never even entered my head space until now. I really hope nobody saw. How mortifying. Instead of following my father into our area, I grab the keys to the room Aunt Scar used. No time like the present to get the ball rolling and hopefully have a paying customer in the room by the time the day is over.

Eleven

Rage

“I hear you. Let me go say goodbye to Jolie, then I’ll head over to the warehouse and take inventory and call you back,” I tell Shovel into my burner phone. Call me paranoid, but I’m not taking chances on something that turns nothin’ but profit with little work.

“Jolie, huh? Yeah, you go talk to her. It seems another brother has fallen. Wish like fuck I was there to see that.” He chuckles. I don’t get a chance to respond because he’s already hung up.

“Prick,” I murmur as I walk into the Inn. I could have taken the elevator, though that shit makes me feel claustrophobic as hell, knowing you can’t control it ain’t one of my strong suits. Instead, I choose to use the outside stairs. Right now, with the way Shovel wants to use the Louisiana warehouse to store goods and transfer shit around, I gotta make sure shit runs as smoothly as ever. It doesn’t take me long to finish walking down the stairs, turn a corner, and open the door to what is essentially the lobby.

What has me chuckling is my woman singing once again, off key, without a care in the world. I have no idea what the hell the song is even called but get a kick out of it just the same. Somethin’ about “Don’t you forget about me.” I stand in the doorway taking in the shit storm that must have been her Aunt Lola’s from what Jolie told me. I wasn’t expecting the room to be riddled with trash, the bed cut to shreds, and what the fuck is that smeared on the walls?

“Son of a bitch, you scared me.” My eyes lock on Jolie still wearing the same clothes she left my room in, rockin’ my tee shirt that’s too big for her but still looks good as hell on her.

“Tend to do that when you’re singin’ with your AirPods in, sweetness.” The toothpick in my mouth moves to the other side, and Jolie’s eyes are watching the entire time.

“Are you heading out?” she asks.

“Yeah. What’s that on the wall?” I nod my head behind her.

“Ugh, I thought it was shit. It looks like it, right? Nope, that would be chocolate. I never realized how childish a forty-something-year-old could be until I walked into this place. I’m going to finish throwing all the trash away, clean the walls, then strip it down to bare bones, let it air out, and then maybe we can get it rented out.” I’d have opted for the first floor if I could have, easier entrance and exit all the way around, but they were booked solid when I first arrived.

“Yeah, it would have been my first choice. Sweet view of the bayou, and not a whole lot of traffic either. You need help?” Not that I have a shit ton of time on my hands, but I could reschedule a few things to help Jolie out.

“Nope, this is all I’m doing today, then I’m figuring out who is looking for work and hiring someone. The strangest thing happened this morning.” She comes closer, taking off the rubber gloves. Damn things are hideous. I don’t blame her for wearin’ em either. Never know what Lola was getting into or what she could be capable of.

“Dad is finding a meeting. Apparently, the come-to-Jesus encounter helped, and clearly things are changing for the better.”

“Good. Somethin’ changes, call me.” Her head cocks to the side. “You have my number, Jolie. It’s in my file for the Inn.”