White Knuckles (Lost Kings MC 7)

“Well, yeah. I want you to be sure—”

I blow out a frustrated breath. How the fuck do I explain this so she gets it. “Trin, have you ever seen me do something I don’t wanna do?”

She lets out a soft snort. “No.”

“Then stop worrying so much. Your pussy may be magical, but if I didn’t want to marry you, I wouldn’t.”

“Wow. I feel like I should be insulted.”

“Why?” I lean forward and without touching her, press her back against the mattress. Looming over her, I cage her in with my hands on either side of her shoulders and lean down to kiss her. She wiggles under me, placing her palms on my chest.

“Damn, you’re sexy,” she says in that breathy voice that makes my dick perk right up. Not that he hadn’t been on standby with her naked next to me and all.

“The real question, Trin, is are you sure you want to marry me?”

“Why? Because you’ve got a gym full of horny housewives after your hot ass?”

Her mouth turns down, so even though I think she meant to tease me, something about the situation bothers her.

“You know that’s just business. I can barely stand talking to any of them. I definitely don’t want to fuck any of them.”

“It doesn’t matter,” she whispers.

I press a quick kiss to her lips. “Everything matters when we’re talking about you. I mean, are you sure you can tolerate me being a grumpy bastard most of the time?”

“I love you the way you are.”

“And that’s why I love you so fucking much. You love me. You’re not out to change me or fix me. You make me a better person by being you.”

“Wyatt, that’s the sweetest thing you’ve ever said.”

“Good. Can I fuck you now?”

Her forehead wrinkles in a playful frown. “Well, now you ruined it.” While her words sound scolding, her hips tilt and she spreads her legs. Even though I’m ready to pound her into the damn mattress, I want to finish this talk.

“Do I make you happy, Trinity?”

“God, yes.”

“Tell me.”

She bites her lip, but her eyes never leave mine. “Don’t laugh, because this is how I really feel,” she whispers.

Everything about her voice says how vulnerable she’s feeling. “Go on,” I encourage.

“I liked my life, before we…figured things out between us. But everything was in sepia tones. Nice to look at. Adequate. With you…with us together, everything is in vibrant, pulsing color, and I can’t wait to open my eyes every morning and see what’s around me.”

My heart sputters, and I can’t form any words. Worry creases her brow. “Does that sound stupid?”

“No.” I cup her face between my hands and press a kiss to her forehead. “No. Somehow you always say what I feel but can’t put into words.”

I’m raw having admitted the thoughts that had been in my head for a long time now. My silly, artistic interpretation of how he moves me. But Wyatt doesn’t laugh. Not even a little teasing.

Last night. This morning. Everything about our trip has strengthened how I feel about him. About us.

“I can’t wait to marry you. Even if you won’t tell me what you’re wearing,” I tease to lift some of the heaviness of our talk.

“It’s nothing bad.”

“No blue tux?”

“Nope. What color is your dress?”

“Well, after the way you’ve defiled my body the last couple days, I definitely can’t wear white.”

He throws his head back and laughs. “I’ve been a real animal, huh? Claiming you every possible way, day and night?”

“Whatever will we do on our honeymoon?” I tease.

“Don’t worry, I can think of a thousand more ways I want to fuck you.”

“Aw, that’s the second sweetest thing you’ve said today.”

“Get over here and kiss me, you nut.” He reaches out, cupping the back of my head and rolling closer to seal his mouth over mine. We trade lazy kisses for a few minutes, but then his kisses grow deeper. More intense. He pulls me on top of him, holding me tight. Completely in control. His hand at the back of my head keeps me where he wants. The way he wants. My hips wiggle against him, and he groans into my mouth. I’m aware of spinning and then I’m underneath him, arms around his neck, pulling myself up for more of his demanding kisses.

He dips his head down, slicking his tongue over my collarbone, kissing my neck until I moan. “Wyatt. Please.”

“Patience, angel.”

I should be worn out. Exhausted from everything we’ve already done this weekend. “I can never get enough of you, Wyatt.”

“Good.”

“Do you think that will change one day?”

“I’ll make sure it doesn’t.”

He says it with so much confidence that I believe in him one hundred percent.

His phone rings, and I shake my head. “No, no, no.”

“Fuck.” He cocks his head, listening to the ringtone. “It’s gotta be Murphy. He promised he’d only call if it was an emergency.”

“Okay.” I untangle myself from his body, and he rolls to the edge of the bed, snatching up the phone.

“What?” he barks.

I chuckle as I stand and stretch, putting a little extra into the movement because I know my man’s watching. All at once his demeanor changes. No more sexy, playful Wyatt who’s annoyed about the interruption.

Something much darker passes over his face.

“I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

He disconnects and sets the phone down on the nightstand before looking at me.

“Get dressed. We need to leave. Now.”

CHAPTER ELEVEN

I can’t speak. There are no words to cover this. Everything I’ve spent the last fifteen years working for has been burned to the ground.

My gym. Furious Fitness is a pile of burning black ashes, melted plastic, and crime scene tape. I’m standing here staring at what’s left, trying to process what happened but coming up blank.

Why?

Numbness spreads through my chest. Rage will come later. Right now, I’m full of icy dread. I seem to be watching everything from a distance. I understand what everyone’s told me, but I can’t make sense of it.

Someone burned down my gym.

The investigator hasn’t ruled it arson yet. What the fuck else could it be?

Violent heat creeps up my spine. I try to swallow down all my fury so I can survive any questioning without turning myself into a suspect. My fists are clenched so tight—waiting for the right thing to take my anger out on—my knuckles are white. From a million miles away, I watch as I will myself to uncurl each finger.

It has to be related to the club. But whose club? Mine or Whisper’s?

Worse, what if it’s not MC related at all? Then there’s some other unknown enemy out in the world. Some threat I haven’t identified yet.

“Mr. Ramsey, can I speak to you?”

I shake myself out of my trance. “Yeah.” The first step I take reminds me Trinity’s still by my side. “I’ll be right back, babe.”

“Okay,” she whispers. She hasn’t said much since we got here. The fire seems to have hit her as hard as it hit me. Christ, a couple days ago I stood here and told her about all my big plans, and she was so fucking excited. Proud of me.

My gaze lands on the building next door. Completely intact. Maybe all hope isn’t lost after all.

If I don’t wind up in jail.

Trinity’s lips tremble into a shaky smile. “I’ll be right here.”

I’m halfway between numb and rage. Probably not the best time for me to talk to the police. Asking if we can do this later doesn’t seem like a smart move, though.

Get it together.

“Are you the sole owner?” the officer asks me.

“No, I have two partners.” Whisper is nowhere to be found, but I point Jake out in the crowd.

“Does anyone else have access to the buil

ding at night?”

“Not really. My girlfriend has a key. My brother, who’s been working here, has one. That’s it.”

“We found the body of a young male. Late teens. Anyone like that work for you?”

Grief slugs me in the stomach.

Twitch.

There’s a roaring in my ears, drowning everything else out. Twitch is the only person on my staff who fits that description.

I’ve seen some sick shit in my life. Hell, I’ve committed a few horrors myself. But knowing there’s a body in that charred mess, and it might be a kid I’ve known for years, hurts. “We’ve got lots of teenage members. But one kid who went through my after-school program has been working here for a while now.”

“Got a name?”

I give him the information he needs. Not that it will do much good. Twitch’s parents checked out of his life a long time ago. I don’t mention the kid was also a prospect for the MC. Leaving LOKI out of this as long as possible will be best for everyone.

“You think that’s who—” I stop and choke on my disbelief. “Set the fire? Or was he caught in the blaze and couldn’t get out?”

“We can’t say for sure yet.” He hesitates and in a lower voice adds, “Given the position of the body, I’d say it’s likely he started the fire.”

I shake my head. Twitch’s vice was cracking safes. Picking locks. Breaking into places for the thrill of it. This level of destruction? No, the kid never pinged my pyro radar.

“I really don’t see him doin’ this. I’ve known him for a couple years now. He’s straightened out.” Straightened out is probably a stretch. Lived in fear I’d kick his ass if he stepped out of line is closer to the truth.

The cop gives me a weary smile. “Sure. He have a record?”

“Juvie.”

He scribbles that down. “You know the dates?”

I give him my best guess. “It was bullshit B&E, nothing close to this.”

The cop pins me with an almost sympathetic stare. “You know, I’ve heard a lot of good things about the after-school program you run here. Helped lots of kids. Gave ’em a safe space. But something I’ve learned on the job—some people can’t change. You can’t help everyone.”

I’m not sure what’s worse. A cop feeding me a bunch of bullshit to cheer me up? Or that he—a stranger—thinks he knew Twitch better than I did?

I’m all out of fight so I let it slide, giving him a quick nod to acknowledge his shit advice.

Rock and Hope join me after the officer leaves. “I’m so sorry, Wrath,” Hope says gently, brushing her hand over my arm. “Is there anything I can do to help out?”

“Not yet.” I glance at Rock. “There’s a body.”

Rock curses under his breath and glances around. “Not good, brother. That’s gonna bring a lot of unwanted attention. They know who it is yet?”

“No.” I hesitate because I hate admitting to my president…my best friend, that I might have brought someone into the club who betrayed us. Burning the gym down isn’t just about me, it will have an effect on the entire club for a long time. “It could be Twitch.”

Hope gasps. “Oh, no.” She shakes her head, tears already wetting her lashes.

Rock drills me with a questioning look, while slipping his arm around Hope’s shoulders.

“You know I wouldn’t have…brought him in, if I didn’t trust him. I don’t think he’s responsible.”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself. Let’s wait for more information. For what it’s worth, I don’t see him doing it, either.”

That’s a relief. “Look, I know he hadn’t…been with us long, but if it is him, we need to take care of him. He doesn’t have anyone else who’ll do it.”

“Yeah. Of course we will.” He reaches out and squeezes my shoulder. Even though he doesn’t speak a word, I know it’s his way of saying “focus.”

My chest tightens. Prickles move over my skin, and I glance around. I’m off. Unsettled. Something besides the blackened mess in front of me makes it hard to breathe. “Where’s Trin?” I ask.

Hope points to the back parking lot where Trin’s talking to Jake and helping him move stuff away from what’s left of the building. I leave Hope and Rock without another word and stalk over to my girl. “What are you doing?”

“Just moving the picnic benches out of the way.” She points to the cop who just questioned me. “He said it was okay.”

I’m boiling-pissed the cop spoke to my girl without me noticing. Even if it was something simple. Not that Trin’s stupid. She knows not to volunteer information to people outside the club. It still pisses me off.

“Mr. Ramsey?” A deep voice intrudes on the anger building inside me.

“What?” I snap, turning around.

I find a guy almost as big as me staring back with an impassive expression. He thrusts a hand in my direction. “Keegan Brand. Senior Investigator with the Empire County Sheriff Department. I need to speak with you.”

As if having the Empire Police picking through everything isn’t bad enough, they called in an arson investigator from the Sheriff’s department. Fan-fucking-tastic.

“No problem. Can you give me a few minutes?”

“Sure. I’m going to walk the site with one of my guys.”

“Jesusfuckingchrist,” Jake mumbles as the guy walks away. “Watch yourself with him,” he advises in a low voice.

“Where the fuck is Whisper?” I ask.

“Don’t know. Called him a bunch of times.” He steps away. “I’ll try him again.”

“Thanks.” My mind’s already going to the worst case. Whisper’s been real fuckin’ unhappy with me lately. Would the fucker really burn our business down, though?

“Wyatt?” Trinity’s soft voice reaches me.

“What?” I answer, a little harsher than I meant to. Fuck, she’s the only good thing in my world. No way should I be snapping at her.

“Do you think we should postpone the wedding?” she asks.

Blood thunders through my veins, and for a second, no sounds reach me. That’s the last goddamn thing I want to do. Especially now.

I need her more than ever.

“No, I don’t want to postpone the wedding.” I snarl the words at her, and she backs up a few steps.

“Everything all right?” Rock asks.

Perfect timing as usual. Godfuckingdammit, Rock.

“No, it’s not all right. She shouldn’t be here.” At least there’s one thing I can control in this situation—Trinity’s safety. I need her home where she’s safe.

“What? Wyatt, no. I was just—”

Ignoring her, I turn to Rock. “Please get her out of here. It’s not safe. Take her home.”

He nods and calls Z over. Hope follows him to join our miserable little group.

“Hey, you don’t look happy, brother,” Z says.

“Ya think?”

“Can you take the girls home, Z?” Rock asks. “I want to stay here while he’s dealing with the arson investigator.” He tips his head toward Investigator Brand. As usual, Rock’s aware of everything going on.

Hope taps his shoulder. “Um, I’m sticking around for that, too. In case he needs a lawyer.”

“Jesus Christ. I wasn’t even here,” I grumble.

Hope grabs my hand. “I know. I want to cover all of our bases.” She casts a dirty look at the Empire PD’s detective poking through the rubble. “I don’t trust them.”

I can tell Rock’s not happy about it, but he agrees Hope should stay.

“Wyatt, can we—” Trinity starts to say.

“No.” I pull her to the side, but it doesn’t matter. I’m sure everyone hears us anyway. “Go home. I can’t deal with this and worry about you right now.”

Her mouth turns down. “I want to help. I wasn’t—”

“No. Go home and do wedding shit. We’re getting married in a couple days.”

She drops her gaze to the ground, and I feel like a fucking asshole for yelling at her.  “Come on, Trin,” Z says, wrapping an arm around her shoulder. He shoots me a you’re-an-asshole glare but finally does what I need and gets her out of here.

I’m unreasonably pissed watching Z’s truck exit the parking lot. I turn and find Hope glaring at me. “Yes, Cinderella?” I ask with exaggerated patience.

“She just wanted to help.”

“Not your business,” I growl at her.

She keeps glaring at me until Rock touches her arm, his way of calling her off. She shoots him a dirty look before stalking away.

“Asshole,” Rock grumbles at me.

This feeling of being split in two spears me. I drag my hands through my hair, looking anywhere but at Rock. “Fuck, I shouldn’t have been so harsh with Trinity.” I finally meet his eyes. “Or Hope.”

He grips my shoulder, offering some brotherly reassurance. “At least you admit it. Let’s handle this, then you can go home and make it up to Trinity.”

“Thanks.”

Investigator Brand has a no-bullshit way about him that normally I’d respect. I also have the impression he hasn’t always been on the right side of the law. While normally I don’t have a lot of respect for cops’ intelligence, there’s something about the way this guy takes everything in that makes me proceed with caution.

“Who are you?” he asks Rock.

“Friend.”

“You one of the partners?”

“No.”

“Then you’re not needed for this conversation.”

He turns away, dismissing Rock.

If we were anywhere else, Investigator Brand would probably be rolling around on the ground with a few bullet holes. But Rock’s practical and knows when to pick his battles. He steps away without another word.

Hope, God love her, fills his void. If she’s still miffed with me, she doesn’t show it. She stands so close her arm brushes against mine.

“And who are you?” Brand asks with a raised eyebrow, as if he’s humoring the little lady. Yeah, that’ll work out well for him.

“I’m a friend.”

He flicks his hand in a dismissive gesture. “You’re not needed, either.” Poor bastard doesn’t realize what a little pit bull Hope can be in these situations.

She whips out a business card and slaps it on top of the clipboard he’s holding. “While obviously I came down here in a friend capacity”—she waves her hand over her casual outfit of jeans and a sweater—“I’m also an attorney. If you don’t mind,” she says, making it clear she doesn’t give a fuck what he thinks, “I’d like to stay with my friend while you question him.”