Throne of Scars (Lost Kings MC 20)

“A fighter until the end,” Loco cackles. “I respect that.”

Grillo blinks and seems to focus on us. “You.” His eyes widen when they land on me.

“Guess you made an impression, old man,” Loco says.

“Thrilled to hear it.” I crouch down next to Loco so I can look Grillo in the eyes. “Why’d you come after an innocent woman who had nothing to do with any of this?”

“Who? Your blonde tart?”

I whip my hand in a short, quick arc, connecting hard with his cheek.

“You got a thing for blondes?” Loco asks me. “Serenity’s gonna be heartbroken.”

I slowly turn my head and stare at him, then over my shoulder at Rock. “You kiddin’ me?”

He grumbles something I can’t quite catch.

“I got what I needed from him,” Loco informs me. “You need something?”

“No. I’m fucking out of prison business, and I intend to stay out.” I grab the length of chain piled next to Grillo, pull it taut and whip it around his neck, yanking until it chokes off his air. “This is what your errand boy did to my girl. Choked her. Scared the shit out of her. Embarrassed her at her job. All for nothing.”

He struggles and claws at my hands.

I give one last squeeze, then let him go, dropping the chain to the floor with a clatter. Standing, I brush my hands off and back away. “All yours, Loco.”

“That was intense.” He jerks his head toward Teller. “Not as bloody as Teller’s handiwork, but impressive.”

“He a rapist?” Teller asks.

“Not that we know of.” Loco pokes at Grillo. “Count your blessings. That motherfucker over there would slice off your jewels and jam ‘em down your throat.” Loco stands and pulls out a pistol. “I’m just gonna shoot you in the head.”

I back up a few feet.

All foolishness disappears from Loco’s expression. He stands tall, points the pistol at Grillo’s temple and squeezes. Once. Twice. Three times.

Blood, bone, and brain splatter all over the mattress, wall, and floor. Grillo crumples against the mattress. Loco looms over the body, staring at the blood soaking into the mattress. “Gonna have to burn that,” he mutters.

“You need help with the cleanup?” I ask.

“Yeah. I don’t want to bring any of my other guys in on this.”

“All right.”

It’s long, dirty wet work but at least Loco has the right equipment.

“I like this method,” Loco says. “I like to think I improved upon the way you guys handle disposal.”

Rock levels a cool look at Loco. “We use several different methods.”

I glance at Loco’s shoes. “Got some splatter on those sparkling white kicks of yours.”

“Ah, fuck. I should’ve known better.”

It’s late when we finally trudge up the stairs into the land of the living.

“Sorry, Wrath. Kitchen’s closed,” Loco says.

“That’s all right, brother. I’ll stop by another time.”

“You do that. Any time you want.”

We go through a round of the ritual handshakes but I think we’re all too tired for much conversation.

I straddle my bike and wait for the others. Rock pulls out first, then Wrath, Murphy, Teller, Dex and I take off. The grisly images from the night recede as I ride into the wind. Guilt and remorse don’t enter my mind. Only relief that it’s over. We ride slow, taking it easy, riding the dark back roads.

After what we just witnessed, it’s almost as if we’re daring the devil to follow us home.

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Serena

Gray won’t reveal his plans for today.

“Wear something nice,” is all he told me last night.

Emily and Libby left early this morning, so I had the whole house to myself. I filmed a tutorial while I got ready for wherever Gray was taking me. Took my measurements. I’m finally actually starting to show and I’m proud of my little bump. I spent an embarrassing amount of time staring at my profile in the full-length mirror this morning. Since I wasn’t sure where we were going, I chose a short, loose dress and my knee-high Dr. Martens.

“Can’t you give me a little hint?” I ask.

Gray flips on his blinker, moving into the right lane. “If I do, then you’ll guess and I don’t want to ruin the surprise.”

“Are you taking me to Sephora?”

“I don’t know what that is, so no.”

“Maternity clothes shopping?”

“No, but we can do that this week, if you want.”

“I’m starting to show.” I smooth my dress over my stomach. “See?”

He glances over with a soft smile flickering over his lips. “I noticed. You look beautiful.” The aching sincerity in his voice takes my breath away.

It doesn’t matter where we’re going. I’m just happy we’re together.

A little while later when he takes the same exit we’d take to go to downstate’s clubhouse, my anxiety returns.

“Are we going to the clubhouse?” I ask quietly.

“Nope.” He glances over. “Sounds like it would bother you if we were.”

“Bother isn’t the right word. I’d just like a head’s up so I can mentally prepare myself.”