Craving Molly (The Aces' Sons 2)

My little sister looked around with a scowl, then got this determined look on her face. I knew that fucking look, and I felt my shoulders get tight as I watched her.

My shoulders relaxed again as Rose began to move. She was tentative at first, barely nodding her head. Then she closed her eyes, shook out her arms, and started jumping and jerking alongside Lily. Making sure that the crowd was watching both of them.

Christ, I loved that kid.

Leo screamed out the lyrics about his girl sleeping with his friends, then his voice abruptly cut off as he caught sight of the girls dancing in front of us.

Trix and I stopped, too, and it irritated the shit out of me. Couldn’t we make it through one fucking song? I wanted to finish out the fucking set and get off that damn stage.

“Hey,” Lily yelled, pulling my attention forward again.

She turned her face toward the stage, her unfocused eyes pointed in our direction. “I want more Offspring.”

I smiled as Leo chuckled. “Nah,” he called out quietly, knowing Lily would hear him. “Pretty girl deserves a pretty girl song.”

Leo met Trix’s eyes and I had no idea how she knew, but she immediately started playing. I laughed quietly, then joined in, looking back at Leo for a second.

His eyes were soft—that’s the only way I knew how to explain it. They were tender, indulgent, and they were pointed right at Lily, who was smiling sweetly as her hips moved from side to side, her arms high above her head.

Leo sang the first verse of “Sweet Child O’ Mine” in his gravelly voice.

Lily’s mom—my Aunt Farrah—whooped loudly, then made her way to our little makeshift stage, shaking her hips and singing along. My mom and Brenna followed her, shaking their asses, too, and I started laughing.

They were all dancing like crazy and signing along, and Lily was smiling so huge, her cheeks must have been aching.

Leo didn’t take his eyes off Lily as she spun around and around in a circle.

We went through a lot more songs after that, and I couldn’t even let myself bitch about it. Brenna’s pop, Poet, and his wife, Amy, were dancing, his hands on her ass to the side of the stage. From the look on my mom’s face as she sat on my dad’s lap, he was singing in her ear, and Dragon and Brenna had disappeared not long after he’d pulled her from the dance floor and threw her over his shoulder.

It was fucking awesome to see everyone so happy. There was a time only a few years before that I hadn’t imagined any of us laughing or having a good time again.

When we were finally done for the night and the boys were setting up the sound system, I had sweat pooling at the base of my spine and I was pretty sure I stank. Did I remember to put on deodorant that day? I wasn’t completely sure—but I decided I’d just keep my arms down until I could grab a quick shower inside the clubhouse.

I was setting my bass back in its case when a bunch of loud voices came from the edge of the clubhouse to my left, not far from where Cecilia had been standing earlier. My heart thumped hard in my chest at the commotion, and my head snapped up to analyze the threat. I’d been caught unprepared in the past, but I never would again.

Then my jaw dropped as Samson and a prospect—I could never remember his name—came around the back, half dragging and half carrying a girl between them.

What the fuck?

My stomach sank as I recognized the yellow and blue scrubs with purple fish the woman was wearing and I jumped down off the stage, my bass forgotten as I jogged toward them.

It couldn’t be her. No way. She wouldn’t come out to the clubhouse.

I took the woman in fully from head to toe. Fuck.

She was bloody. Her scrubs were ripped and her head was rolling on her shoulders as she tried really hard to keep her feet under her.

I told myself that lots of women probably wore those scrubs. Lots of women had that color hair and those same ugly as fuck tennis shoes. I’d almost convinced myself when her head rolled to the side and I caught a glimpse of her face. Her blue eyes met mine, and she let out a short sob.

No.

“Will,” she whispered, her lips trembling.

“Aw, fuck, sweetheart,” I groaned, lurching forward so I could pull her slight frame gingerly into my arms. “What the fuck happened?”

“Some Russian guys were at my dad’s,” Molly whimpered in confusion. “I don’t—I don’t know what they wanted.”

I opened my mouth to curse when my name was called. I jerked my head up as I wrapped my arm around Molly’s waist and found my little brother carrying Rebel across the grass. She was squirming hard trying to get down, but he held her fast as he hurried toward me.