Page 33 of Whatever Lola Wants (Odyssey #2)

Lola shook her head. “ Simon says I’m hopeless in the kitchen, so he’s taken over my grocery shopping.”

Ginger’s eyes went soft. “ Aw .”

“Aw, nothing,” Lola said with a laugh. “ He’s just doesn’t want to go hungry.”

“Right,” Ginger said with a knowing chuckle and stepped back from the door. “ Have fun tonight.”

Lola sent her a little finger wave as Ginger shut the door, then set her bag at her feet. “ Okay ,” she told the driver. “ Let’s go.”

She put the car in gear and pulled away from the curb. “ Hot date, huh?”

“Yeah,” Lola murmured as they approached the intersection. Remembering her seatbelt, she reached for it. “ Hot date.”

And the world exploded.

Something slammed into the car, the screaming crunch of metal on metal and the oddly musical sound of glass breaking hitting her ears as her body jolted.

She felt oddly weightless for half a heartbeat as she was flung sideways, then her head slammed into something, and pain erupted with a sickening intensity.

There was a brilliant burst of light and a kaleidoscope of whirling color, then everything went mercifully black.

“Lola? Lola , can you hear me? Oh , God . Someone call an ambulance!”

The voice was distant and tinny, barely penetrating the blackness that lay over her mind like a blanket. Lola struggled to surface, then wished she hadn’t; pain was a living, breathing thing, and it had teeth. She moaned, and the sound of her own voice snapped her into full consciousness.

“Lola, can you hear me? Can you open your eyes?”

Lola kept her eyes shut, knowing somehow that opening them would only bring more agony. “ What …what happened?”

“Oh, thank God .” The voice— Ginger , it’s Ginger talking to me —sobbed with relief, and a shaking hand touched the top of her head. “ The car got hit—asshole truck driver ran a red light.”

“Where—?”

“You’re still in the car, on the seat. I can’t move you.”

Lola tried to nod her head, then stopped when the pain went super nova. “ Fuck . Am I hurt bad?”

“I don’t know.” Ginger sounded hoarse. “ You have to stay still until they can check you out.”

Every inch of her throbbed, but the pain in her head was the most insistent. Lola lifted a shaking hand to her forehead, frowning when her fingers encountered a wet warmth.

“Am I bleeding?” she managed and fought her eyes open.

She was right; it hurt more with her eyes open. Gritting her teeth, she blinked and tried to focus on the hand in front of her face. Red . Wet . Definitely bleeding. But her vision was blurry, her hand waving in and out of focus, and nausea was threatening now. She closed her eyes again.

“Lot of blood,” she murmured and tried to swallow the bile rising in her throat.

“Yeah,” Ginger said and Lola heard the worry in her voice. “ Head wounds bleed a lot, so it probably looks worse than it is.”

“How bad does it look?”

“Like you’ve been in a knife fight and lost,” Ginger said bluntly.

“Okay, then.”

She lay with her eyes closed, drifting with the pain.

The EMTs arrived in a dizzying flash of light and sound, and placed a protective collar around her neck.

She could move her arms and legs, wiggle her fingers and toes, but they put her on a backboard anyway—she had to grit her teeth against the burst of agony when they rolled her battered body onto it—before putting her on a gurney and loading her into the ambulance.

Lola licked her lips. “ Where’s my friend?” she asked hoarsely, and the EMT monitoring her vitals glanced down at her.

“The blonde?” Lola murmured an affirmative, and the EMT , a Black woman with competent hands and kind eyes, looked out the open doors of the ambulance. “ Hey , Mike ! That blonde still talking to the cops?”

She must have gotten an affirmative answer, because she nodded and looked down at her. “ She’s talking to the cops. You need her, sweetie?”

“I need her to get Simon .” Lola struggled to stay awake. Darkness was pressing at the edges of her vision again, promising oblivion and an absence of pain, but she fought it back. “ She has my phone, his number…there. Need … Simon .”

“Okay, honey.” The EMT laid a hand on her arm, her dark eyes filled with sympathy. “ We’ll tell her. You just relax.”

Lola closed her eyes as the EMT shouted once more for Mike , then let the darkness come and take the pain away.

* * *

Simon leaned back against the bar and frowned at the clock on the wall. She was late.

Not too late. But it was after ten, and while they hadn’t set a specific time, nine-thirty was when the club opened for the evening’s entertainment. So he thought it had been understood.

But since it was possible that he hadn’t made that clear, he was willing to give her a break.

He glanced up as the doors to the club opened, frowning when the person who walked through wasn’t Lola .

“Simon. If you’re going to glare at everyone as they walk in, perhaps you’d like to take over the security duties from Axe tonight?”

Simon smothered the urge to roll his eyes and turned. “ Michael . How are you?”

The amusement on his friend’s face said he wasn’t fooled in the slightest. “ Very well. And you? How are you finding your submissive hunt these days?”

Simon frowned. He’d been too busy having fun with Lola to give much thought to his goal of finding a relationship with a submissive. “ Fine .”

“Mmm.” Michael’s lips curved in a knowing smile. “ Can I buy you a drink, or are you planning to play tonight?”

“I’m planning to play.” If my girl ever shows up . Wait —his girl? When had that happened?

“Well, then.” Michael settled on a bar stool and signaled to Skip . “ I’m looking forward to Grant and Anna’s wedding in a couple of weeks. I assume the plans there are moving right along?”

“Anna has it handled,” Simon replied. “ And she’s had Lola to help.”

Michael nodded his thanks when the bartender delivered his drink. “ And how is the lovely Lola ?”

Simon kept his voice neutral with effort. “ She’s fine.”

“I must admit, I was hoping to see her tonight.”

“Oh?” Simon swallowed the snarl that wanted to leap out of his throat. Mine . Stay away .

“Yes.” Michael sipped his drink, eyes dancing over the rim of the glass. “ I’ve had a lot of interest in her needle demonstration. I’m hoping to talk her into doing one on Friday night as well as on Saturday .”

Clever asshole. “ I’m sure she’d be willing to accommodate you.”

“She is flexible, isn’t she?” Michael’s voice was mild. “ A wonderful and somewhat underrated trait in a woman.”

Simon was opening his mouth—to say what, he had no idea—when the bartender suddenly appeared.

“Sorry to interrupt.” Skip nodded at Simon before turning to Michael . “ Axe just called. There’s some woman making a huge scene at the front door. She’s not a member or an invited guest, but she’s insisting on coming in. He can’t get rid of her.”

A flicker of irritation passed over Michael’s face. “ Tell him I’m on my way.” He set his drink down and rose to his feet. “ Simon , if you see Lola before I do, please let her know I’d like to speak with her?”

“Of course,” Simon said, relieved Michael had been called away before the conversation could get any more uncomfortable. “ Good luck.”

Michael’s face was set when he turned toward the door, and Simon chuckled. Maybe he should wish that luck on the unknown woman at the front door; she’d probably need it.

He glanced at the clock again. Nearly ten-thirty.

Where was she?

Michael’s face was grim as he strode to the entrance of the club.

He’d been enjoying his conversation with Simon —and, he felt sure, getting through his friend’s thick skull—and this commotion at the door was an irritant.

Axe should have been able to handle it on his own; the man could practically bench press a Buick , for God’s sake, and had worked for the Secret Service . He couldn’t handle one woman?

He pushed through the inner doors that blocked the entrance from the rest of the club and stepped into chaos.

He could only see Axe’s broad shoulders and heavily muscled back; the security guard’s impressive bulk completely hid whoever he was talking to. But while he couldn’t see her, he could certainly hear her.

“I don’t give a rat’s skinny ass if it’s a private club. I told you, it’s an emergency.”

“And I told you,” came Axe’s rumbling baritone, “no exceptions without Mr . O’Riley’s say so.”

“Listen, dick brain.” Michael’s eyebrows shot up, both at the insult— Axe had been known to reduce grown men to jittering fear with just a look—and the snarl with which it was delivered. “ You either let me in to find who I need to find, or you get your Mr . O’Riley down here.”

Michael saw Axe’s arm shift as he reached out. “ Ma’am , I’ve already called him. But you need to wait outside?—”

“If you lay a finger on me, Conan , I’ll smash your balls into your throat.”

Michael winced as his own balls gave a sympathetic twinge, and stepped forward.

“Ma’am, I’m not going to—” Axe cut himself off as Michael laid a hand on his shoulder, his face going slack with relief.

“What seems to be the trouble here, Axe ?”

“That,” Axe said in a flat tone, and gestured to the woman in front of him.

“Indeed,” Michael said.

The woman would’ve been a show stopper under any circumstances, he thought, but right now—with eyes blazing blue fire, cheeks glowing with color, and her breath coming fast and hard, she was magnificent.