Tough Luck (Hard Rock Roots) by C.M. Stunich Page A

soul. This stupid sad sap is compromising everything!
    I turn away and touch my hands to my cheeks.
    If I warn Ronnie now, then I'm done for. I can kiss my dream goodbye. And my life, too, for that matter. Even if I hopped on a plane back to Queensland right now, he'd hunt me down. Tyler Rutledge was very, very clear about that.
    “Lola?” Ronnie's standing behind me, waiting for me to turn around and acknowledge him. I can feel sweat beading on my upper lip. How attractive I must look. I get out another cigarette, biting down on it for comfort and spin to face him. He's painfully gorgeous, especially now with his baby in his arms and a soft smile on his face. Doesn't look like such a sad sack right now. Wonder if that was my doing?
    “Hey,” I say, and because I'm stalling for time, I reach out and touch my fingers to his daughter's hair. “Who's this beautiful lady?” Ronnie grins – actually grins! – and turns so that the girl's face is looking straight at mine. She has neon green eyes, like two sour apples stuck right there in her pudgy face. Fuckin' cute. She reminds me of my kid sister, the way her gaze seemed to pick up on things even the adults couldn't see. I miss her face. Screw her for running off with a misogynistic Frenchman. Who makes cheese for a living anyway? Goddamn prick.
    “This is my middle daughter, Lydia,” Ronnie says, and I can see gears turning in his head. This is his first time doing this, and he has no idea if he's getting it right. I wish I could help him out a little. Nobody deserves to feel so lost in life. Not that I have much room to talk. I can't imagine what Ronnie would do if he found out I actually know the names of all his kids, their mothers, their ages. My job in life right now is to get to know him, wrap him around my finger and watch his life fall apart. And then, when everything's just gone to shit, I'm supposed to break his heart and walk away like nothing ever happened. That's my role, that's it. It's not complicated; I don't have to kill him. Not like Cohen. Cohen's target already has a gravestone with his name on it, and just doesn't know it.
    “She's gorgeous, pretty little thing,” I say, trying to smile. I guess it comes across more as a grimace because the girl starts to cry, reaching her hands out for Turner who's standing there like he's Ronnie's personal bodyguard or something. I don't like the way he's looking at me. It's freaking me out. It almost feels like he knows something. But he can't. He's an idiot, right?
    “Daddy,” she sobs, and her voice breaks my heart in half. She just lost her mum, can't really blame her. And it's your fault. You could've stopped it. You could stop all of this. There's an opportunity here for me to make everything okay, to fix it all. Just a wave of Lola's magic wand, and it all goes away.
    Ronnie winces and gives me an apologetic look before passing his daughter over to his friend. He's not much of a fighter, is he? I stare at him staring at me, and feel my lips part. Consequences catch my tongue and tie it in a knot. No outcome sounds good for me. Lose my life, lose my freedom, lose my soul. A spin of the chamber and pull the trigger, see what it'll be.
    “She looks a lot like you,” I say instead, disgusted at myself for my own cowardice. Ronnie raises his eyebrows and reaches up to touch his hair. He's feeling self-conscious. How stupid. He looks ridiculously delicious right about now. His black hair's parted to the side, dripping into his face like a curtain, hanging just past his ears on either side. The ends are all razored up, rock 'n' roll fab. I love it. But I shouldn't. Fuck.
    “You think?” Ronnie asks, sounding skeptical. Turner holds Lydia tight, but awkward, like he's never held a kid before. I reach out my hands and pretend they're not shaking. If I don't notice, nobody else will, right?
    “May I?” I ask, and Turner looks over at Ronnie for permission. “I had lots of little cousins. It usually fell to