Throne of Scars (Lost Kings MC 20)

My phone vibrates and a message pops up.

Buttercup: I’m okay. Sorry for making you worry. I needed a breather.

Thank fuck. I close my eyes and let out a quick sigh.

“Everything all right with you and Serena?” Rock asks. “Hope said she wasn’t at the clubhouse last night or this morning.”

Jesus Christ, the way everyone’s up in my business isn’t much different than when I was in prison. At least his question’s coming from a good place.

“Yeah,” I answer slowly. I’d rather not let more people in on my problems. Having Z know is bad enough. “We’re working through some stuff.”

Instead of asking more questions, Rock slows the truck to a stop and carefully eases it into a spot in front of an old brownstone with a purple front door.

He shuts off the truck and turns to give me his full attention. “You up to this?”

“Don’t worry, Prez. My head’s in the game.” I jerk my thumb toward the purple door. “This the place?”

“Yeah, door was red last time we were here.”

“He change with the seasons or something?”

Rock smirks. “Maybe.”

Engines rumble through the narrow streets, reminding me of how much I miss riding.

“Soon, brother,” Rock says as if he sensed my mood.

“Wanna get down to see Z’s place.” Was hoping I’d be able to ride with the club when we go.

“You’ll be impressed.”

“He’s done a lot with it,” Teller adds.

Z’s bike is the first one to come into view. The narrow street is full of parked cars. Rock grabbed the last spot. That doesn’t seem to concern Z or the others. At the crosswalk, he takes advantage of the dip in the curb and smoothly steers the bike onto the sidewalk, gliding to a stop a few feet from Rock’s rear bumper. Dex and Ravage pull in behind him, lining their bikes in a neat row.

“Can’t imagine the locals are gonna care for that.” I nod to the other brownstones along the street.

Rock shrugs. “We’ll be long gone before the cops stop by to do anything about it.”

“You say that now,” Teller warns.

Rock and Z share a few words, then Rock waves his hand at all of us to follow him. We crowd onto the stone steps. Rock tips his head back as he punches the doorbell. Obviously, Loco’s got cameras set up around the place.

The heavy door swings open and a barely dressed young lady with golden skin and a dazzling smile welcomes us inside.

Either she has zero fear response or Loco warned her we were coming. Her sweet, but blank, smile remains in place as the six of us crowd into the narrow foyer.

“Good afternoon, gentlemen,” she says in a practiced husky voice. Her gaze sweeps over each one of us, then returns to Rock. “Loco’s waiting for you in his office. Follow me.”

The filmy see-through robe draped over her shoulders billows behind her, keeping us at a distance. Her bare feet sink into the thick carpet, barely making a sound as we follow her down the long hallway. We pass a parlor area full of ornate velvet and wood furniture. A few girls perched on a couch crane their necks to get a look at us. One with long, sleek black hair falling over her shoulders wiggles her fingers and blows me a kiss.

Great.

As we pass, giggles erupt through the room. I turn and find two of the women peeking around the corner. The black-haired one waves at me again.

“Hey, darlin’,” Rav says, slowing to talk to them.

“This is quite an operation,” I mutter to Rock.

“Uh-huh,” he grunts. His irritation seems to rise with each step we take deeper into this house of sin.

We follow the girl to a glossy dark wooden door with elaborate brass hardware.

She knocks three times and twists the knob, swinging the door open wide.

“Prez!” Loco stands from behind a wide, ornate desk and opens his arms like he’s planning to hug all of us at once. His dark red suit appears to be made of a similar material as the heavy drapes in the front of the house. A thick, heavy fabric with a subtle embroidered flower pattern. Never seen anything quite like it.

As we continue piling into his office, his loony grin falters. “Rollin’ a little deep today, Rock.”

Rock shrugs. “You sounded like it was important.”

Loco’s eyebrows crawl halfway up his forehead. “Oh.”

“We can wait out there, Prez.” Dex nudges Ravage toward the door.

“Thank you,” Rock says over his shoulder, not taking his eyes off Loco.

“Tasha,” Loco snaps his fingers, “find Clementine and entertain these gentlemen. On the house.”

“Sure thing, boss.” Tasha executes a seductive spin, snagging Ravage’s hand in the process and dragging him out the door. Dex sighs and follows them.

“Thank you, Loco,” Rav hollers at the ceiling.

Teller pushes the door closed, drawing Loco’s attention.

“Telllller.” Loco draws out the word slowly and tugs on the lapels of his snazzy suit. “Haven’t seen you in a minute.” His voice loses its smooth confidence for a second or two.