Throne of Scars (Lost Kings MC 20)

“On the street.” I examine both sides of the road. “I don’t see her car.”

He opens his door and steps out, while slowly studying the area.

Irritated, I slide out of the truck and slam the door. “You don’t need to come up with me.” The last thing I need is Serena freaking out because I showed up with a brother. Even if it’s Z.

“I’m too invested in the outcome now.” He flashes his dimples and runs a hand through his hair. “If she’s here, I’ll go sit in the truck.”

Arguing with him is a waste of time. I head toward Serena’s building not bothering to check if Z’s following me.

“The fuck?” he grumbles as I wrench the front door open. “It’s not locked?”

“No.” I pull out my keys. The two of us sound like a herd of moose jogging up the stairs. If Serena’s home, she’ll hear us coming.

“You already have a key to her place?” Z asks.

“Yes,” I growl. “Any more questions?”

“Probably. Give me a second to think on it.”

“You do that, asshole.” I stop in front of Serena’s door and unlock the deadbolts.

“Well, at least she has good hardware.”

“First thing I did when I saw this place.”

“I should’ve guessed.” He laughs.

I push the door and it swings wide. Nothing greets us but the dark stillness of her quiet apartment.

Stale stuffiness hangs in the air, as if no one’s been here in a while. Makes sense. I’ve had Serena staying at the clubhouse since her attack. We only stopped by once briefly to pick up a few things.

I flick on the lights.

Hope bursts in my chest. Books scattered on the entertainment stand, throw pillows and blanket on the couch, even a couple pairs of her sneakers lined up by the front door. Everything appears as I remember from my last visit.

She hasn’t packed up and moved. There aren’t any boxes waiting to be filled. That’s good. Maybe she just needs a breather. A moment to absorb this life-altering news. Some space. As much as I hate it, I can give her that.

As I’m busy cataloging familiar items, Z stomps through the living room like he owns the place.

“Take your damn shoes off,” I call after him.

He returns to the front door with a raised eyebrow. “Seriously?”

One hard stare wipes the smile off his face, and he toes off his boots. “Happy now?”

My gaze drops to his feet and sticks. “Are those…mermaids on your socks?” I blink and stare at the colorful blue and green wool. The stress of this endless day must be making me hallucinate.

“Lilly bought them for me.” He rocks back on his heels and wiggles his toes. “I wasn’t exactly expecting to show them off tonight.”

“You went to a meet wearing mermaid socks?” For fuck’s sake, now I’ve seen everything.

“A Glock too.” He pulls the pistol from the holster at his side and points it toward my feet. “Keep making fun of my socks, fucker.”

“Where’d she even find something to fit those big-ass grizzly paws of yours?”

“I don’t ask questions. She and Trinity are always shopping for stuff together.” He presses his hand to his chest. “It’s not easy to find clothing to accommodate men of my size.”

“Jesus Christ, Wrath running around in mermaid socks too?”

“Nah.” Z lowers his hands into a V, framing his crotch. “I think Trin’s thing is gettin’ him fancy underwear.”

“I didn’t need to know that.”

“You asked.” He re-holsters his pistol. “We looking for something here or you got more wardrobe critiques?”

“I don’t know what we’re gonna find. Doesn’t look like she’s been here.”

Even so, I do a sweep of the apartment. I flick the light on in the first room.

“What’s this?” Z asks.

“Where she films her stuff.” I wave my hand in the air. “Those makeup videos.”

“Cute.” He moves closer to the long counter where Serena usually keeps her laptop and other equipment. “Something’s missing.”

“She brought her laptop up to the clubhouse.”

“Anything else?”

I shrug. “I couldn’t name half the equipment she uses if you put a gun to my head.” I yank my cell phone out, checking for any messages. “I’m still trying to wrap my head around this smartphone bullshit.”

His grim nod is almost worse than if he’d laughed.

I move on to her bedroom. Unfortunately, Z follows me. Can’t say I’m comfortable having him in my girl’s room. His gaze slides over her dresser to a small desk in the corner. He picks up a stack of envelopes and flips through them.

“Stop going through her shit,” I snap.

He fans the envelopes in front of him. “Searching for a clue about where she might’ve gone.”

“She’s not close to whatever family she’s got left.” I snatch the envelopes out of his hand and sort through them. Bills. Lots of ’em. My gaze lands on one from Union County Hospital.

“Yeah, saw that too,” Z says quietly.