White Knuckles (Lost Kings MC 7)

“You’re solid with a rifle, no doubt. But Ironworks?” Rock slowly shakes his head as he thinks it over. “Too many narrow, one-way streets. Way too hard to get out clean.”

“You snipe someone in Ironworks in broad daylight, that’s gonna bring a lot of heat,” Dex says. “Police will know it’s more than a random gang shooting.”

“I know you’re a good shot. But with Trinity so close to him. No way,” Z mutters.

“I won’t take the shot if she’s too close.”

Z pulls up a map of the store where Ransom wants to meet and studies it for a few seconds before turning his tablet around for the rest of us. “Place isn’t far from the onramp to Route Seven. Cop presence is weak there…I can go scope it out today…”

Dex leans in, staring at Z’s screen. “Buildings around there aren’t tall enough. Besides, we don’t know that he won’t have his own people spread out in case we try to do something exactly like this,” Dex says. He lifts his gaze to me. “Believe me, brother, I’d risk you over her any day, but I think it’s best to take him down away from the city if at all possible.”

“We don’t know he’s taking her out of the city,” Sparky shouts. He shakes his head vigorously. “I really hate this.”

Me too, brother.

Dex growls with frustration. “It’s hard to tell, but he sounded like he’s planning to leave Ironworks as soon as he has her.”

“I can do it, Sparky,” Trinity says softly. She places her hand over mine. “Wrath’s trained me well. Not just with guns.” Her gaze flicks to Teller. “He’s not used to girls fighting back.”

Teller acknowledges that comment with a slight nod. Trin and Mariella were close. My girl probably knows better than any of us what she’s volunteering to walk into.

We toss a few other ideas around, and then it’s time to get serious and talk about what weapons she’ll be taking. “She can carry at her back and her leg—”

Teller shakes his head. “Carrying at my six is how my legs got fucked, have her—”

“She’s not gonna be wearing it long enough to have anything happen,” Z says. “He’ll pull that first. I doubt he’ll expect her to have another weapon or two hidden.”

My vision blurs red thinking about Ransom touching Trinity.

“Someone needs to keep a visual on her,” Rock says.

“Gotta be someone he won’t recognize immediately.” Murphy points at Z, Rock, and Teller. “Can’t be any of you.” He glances down the table at Dex and Bricks. “He might recognize you two from CB.”

Z’s mouth quirks up. “Looks like Stash and Sparky gotta come outta the basement.”

I love those guys, but I’m not real comfortable with the vampire twins being all that stands between my girl disappearing with Ransom and not.

Stash has sobered up considerably since he walked in here and seems to sense my hesitation. “We won’t let her out of our sight, brother.”

As Rock continues discussing the plan, my gaze drops to Trinity’s lap. She twists the hem of her shirt between her fingers, hands trembling with the strain of the situation, even though her face remains calm. Pride and fear go to war inside me. She’s so fucking brave, it scares the fuck out of me.

I swear, after tomorrow, once Trinity’s safe in my arms, she’s never leaving the property again.

What did I agree to do?

No, not agree. Beg to do.

I can’t back down now.

I won’t.

Not when all the guys are ready to die to protect me.

I need to follow through.

I swallow my fear and paste on a false smile. “Who’s going out to the gun range with me?”

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Two days before the wedding…

Every second I spend with Trinity at the gun range reminds me what I agreed to let her do.

But I don’t trust anyone else to be out here with her.

Z seemed to understand my struggle and followed us out to the range this morning.

He keeps up a steady stream of upbeat commentary while he runs through each weapon with her. I sit back and watch, hating every second.

My woman already has excellent basic skills—I’ve made sure of that over the years. She’s a pro at quick and safe reloading, one-handed shooting techniques, and she’s deadly accurate with almost any gun you put in her hands.

What we work on today are her skills shooting at moving targets, moving while firing, shooting at multiple targets, and most importantly quick draw from a holster. As soon as the sun starts going down, we’ll work on shooting in low-light.

The plan is not to let her out of our sight. The plan is to wait until Ransom gets her wherever he’s taking her, ambush him, and get her out safely.

Plans can go wrong.

So here we are. Practicing with three different handguns I know she’s comfortable with.

She’s so tentative as she walks over to me for a break, I coil up tight inside. I hand her a bottle of water, and she takes a few sips before handing it back.

Z walks up with her paper targets. The reactive targets we’ve been using are still out in the field.

“Christ, she’s good, Wrath. Look at these.”

“I know.” I take the targets out of his hands and set them on the bench without looking at them. They don’t matter.

Nothing matters if she takes a shot at Ransom and misses.

Ransom might be a cockroach, but he’s also a cunning thug. He didn’t rise to president of a club like the Vipers by accident.

“Trin, grab a couple of those holsters and bring them over. We’ll work on quick draw next,” Z says.

As soon as she moves away, Z punches my shoulder.

“What?” I snap, punching his leg.

“I get why you’re unhappy,” he says in a low voice. “But stop being a moody fuck. She doesn’t deserve it on a good day. And she sure as fuck doesn’t deserve it today with what she’s doing for us.”

“I know,” I answer, not even bothering to defend myself.

“Here,” Trinity says breathlessly, dropping a pile of five different holsters on the table in front of us.

“You should help her with this, brother,” Z says, shooting me a don’t-fuck-it-up glare when Trin’s not looking.

“Come here, angel,” I say once we’re alone. I hook my fingers in the waistband of her jeans and slowly draw her closer. She wraps her arms around me, and I rest my head against her stomach. We stay that way for a few quiet minutes.

If I still knew how to cry, now would be the time. But that’s something that had been beaten out of me a long time ago. Instead, I lift the hem of her shirt and brush my lips against her skin.

She quivers with laughter and strokes the side of my face. “That tickles.”

It’s as if her voice reaches inside, wraps itself around my heart and squeezes. Handing her over to Ransom is absurd. Insane. So very wrong.

Three quick blasts from Z’s gun shatter our moment. Reminding me why we’re here.

She runs her hands through my hair a few times then pulls back, picking up her Glock and pointing it at the floor.

No words need to be said about what either of us are feeling.

“Hold your shirt up.” I turn my head to give myself a second and pick up one of the waistband holsters.

She does as I ask so I can secure it around her hips. I slip the Glock out of her hand and tuck it in the back pocket of the holster, then fix her sweatshirt. “Draw.”

She expertly pulls the gun, aiming toward the grassy field. “Good. You’re comfortable giving that one up?”

“Yes. I like it, but I’m more comfortable in a rushed situation with the revolver.”

“Okay.”

Her hand sweeps over one of the other holsters. “I’d rather not even try the bra one. Don’t really want to give them an excuse to feel me up.”

I think she meant to say it as a joke, but there’s nothing funny about this and we both know it.

I take the holster off and replace it with a different one and have her repeat the process.

When she’s finished, I take that one off and set it to the side.

“Okay, which one are you more comfortable with if you get to keep your weapon?”

She considers the question before answering. “The hip-hugger one feels more secure. But the lace waistband holster tucks in where it’s easier for me to draw from.”

“Let’s go with that one then.” I motion with my hand for her to lift her pant leg, and we do the whole thing over again with the ankle holsters and her favorite revolver. We’re putting an awful lot of faith in Ransom’s lack of respect for females. Maybe he’ll be too lazy to do a full pat-down. Given my position in the club, even if he does find the weapons on her, it shouldn’t come as a surprise. But I know how volatile he can be.

“Trin, if he hurts you—hurt him back.”

She drops into a fighting stance I taught her and throws a light punch at me. “Promise, coach.”

I fucking hate this.

Z finishes his target practice and joins us.

Trin finishes her practice draws and shakes her pant leg back into place. “Both ankle ones are fine.”

Z stares at her for a few minutes. “Have her carry one on each.”

“Guys, I’m not fucking Laura Croft.”

Both of us stare her down.

“Fine. Christ, I’m barely gonna be able to walk with all this hardware strapped to me.”

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

One day before the wedding…

Time ticks down fast.

Ransom sent a text to Rock this morning. Four p.m.

That’s when Ransom wants to grab me.

My stomach heaves every time I think about it.

All the guys were called into the war room. After about an hour locked inside, they called me in and reviewed the plan with me again.

Wrath’s not a particularly wordy guy with the rest of the world. In private with me, though, we rarely run out of things to talk about.

Not today.

He’s silent. Brooding. He’s been considering any other possible way to get Ransom without involving me. But we both know this is the best way to draw Ransom out and end this.

At two, Rock taps on our door, pushing it open. “Ready?”

“As I’ll ever be.” I slip a plain black sweatshirt over my T-shirt. Under that, I’m wearing a tank top. I want as many layers between Ransom and me as possible. The lace waistband holster is tight around my middle, and I tuck the pistol in its place. At my ankles, the other two guns are already secure.

Rock pulls me in for a quick hug. “You’re the bravest woman I know, Trinny.”

“I don’t feel brave. I’m scared,” I admit.

Behind me, there’s a muffled crash. I’m pretty sure it was Wrath’s fist hitting the wall.

“Wyatt,” Rock snaps. I’ve only heard Rock call him by his given name a handful of times over the years. “Let’s go.”

I try to take Wyatt’s hand as we walk down to the living room, but he shakes me off.

I get it.

I do.

But it stings.

“Trinity, it’s bachelorette party night. Where are you going?” Hope calls out, as she hurries down the stairs.

I’m standing close enough to Rock to hear the “fuck” he mutters. Hope stops in her tracks as soon as she takes in everyone. It’s pretty obvious from the guys’ tense postures and expressions that we’re not headed out for a celebration. Her gaze strays to Rock.

“Rock? What’s—”

He pulls her aside, speaking to her in low tones. Wrath still won’t touch me or even look at me. I know it’s his way of coping, but it still burns.

A couple of the guys open the front door and step outside.

“Trinity?” Hope’s eyes are full of unshed tears and hell, if she cries, it’s going to mess me up.

How much did Rock tell her?

While I don’t poke into club business with Wrath, I imagine Hope doesn’t take kindly to being excluded from things on the sole basis of having a vagina.

“Don’t,” I warn.

She pulls me into a hug anyway, and I squeeze her back just as tight. “I love you, Trinity,” she whispers.

“Love you, too.” I choke out the words. Damn her for making me cry. I pull back. “You can’t be late to help me get ready tomorrow morning. Make sure you set your alarm half an hour early.”

A sad smile touches her lips, but she nods at my attempted joke. “I will.”

“We need to go,” Rock says gently. God bless her, Hope glares at him. “Dex and Ravage are staying here. You are not to leave the property until we come back.” Her glare intensifies, but she nods and doesn’t question him.

Murphy steps forward. “Heidi knows she needs to stay put, too, Hope.” He’s also rewarded with Hope’s pissed-off glare.

She squeezes my hand one last time before letting me go, but she’s looking at everyone when she says, “Please be careful.”

Hope’s fond of calling me the “little blonde badass.” I feel anything but badass as I follow the guys out of the clubhouse.

“Trin, you’re riding with Z and Teller,” Rock says, pointing at Z’s truck.

“I figured.” I give him a small smile.

He knocks his fist into Wrath’s arm. “We won’t be far behind you.”

The rest of the guys discuss their assignments while I work on controlling my racing heart.

Finally we’re ready to leave. Z opens the back door for me. As I’m about to step up into the truck, Wrath jogs over, placing his hand on my shoulder and spinning me around. I’m swept up into his arms and crushed against his chest. “I love you so much, Trinity,” he murmurs against my hair. “I’m so proud of you. Thank you for being so brave.”

I choke on a sob as I hang on to him tight. “Love you, too.”

“You’re everything that matters to me, Angel Face.”

My throat’s so tight I barely force out a response. “If I’m an angel, it’s only because you’re my heaven.”

Before I say another word, his mouth crashes against mine. My pulse races as he yanks me tighter against his body. I wrap my arms around him and hold onto him just as hard. Our tongues collide wildly. Both of us needing to taste each other, reassure each other with this last kiss before going off to deal with the devil.

I back away first, breaking our contact. He sets me down but keeps his hands on my waist and leans down to press his forehead against mine. “You got this, Trinity. Not a doubt in my mind. You got this.”

His words are exactly what I needed.

For the first time, I truly believe I can do this and come home in one piece.

“How much do you hate me right now?” Rock asks as we watch Trin drive off with Z and Teller. His low voice can barely be heard above the rumble of my truck’s engine.

I glance over, taking in his pained expression. This is killing him almost as much as me.

“It’s not you I want to murder.”

“Should be. I’ve done a shit job protecting this club lately.”

I let out a sigh, not really in the mood for Rock’s martyr bullshit at the moment. “This prick’s had it coming. Vipers have been a problem in this area for a long time now. Since before you took over. Every time they change leadership, they say it’ll solve the problem, but it never does. After tonight, we’re finally done with these fucks.”

He glances over. “I’m the one who should be giving you the pep talk.”

“I don’t need pep. I need Trin to be okay and I need Ransom dead.”

“Amen.” He goes back to staring out the window.

I hated being so cold to Trinity while we were gettin’ her ready. Handling a situation like this isn’t in my nature. There’s no other way to separate who I am from the things I do. Trinity’s my peace. She’s not supposed to be mixed up in this. I’m supposed to keep my woman safe, not use her to bait our enemi

es.

Thank fuck I pulled my head out of my ass and told her how much I love her, how much faith I have in her, before she left. I couldn’t stand it if my actions made her hesitate or rattled her when she needed to be focused. Couldn’t stand it if she doubted for one second how much she means to me and how grateful I am that she’s willing to sacrifice for the club.

Guilt and pain from all the times I’ve fucked up in the past pummel into me. I can’t afford to lose my focus. If I do that, Trinity gets hurt and that’s not acceptable.

Acid boils through my veins. I can’t stop picturing Ransom laying his greasy fingers on my woman, and it’s driving me insane that we haven’t had any updates.

Thoughts of how I plan to torture him to death soothe me.

For now.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

We’re almost to the bridge that leads into the city of Ironworks when Z breaks the tense silence in the car.

“What you’re doing for the club is huge, Trinity,” he says quietly. “We all appreciate it.”

I’m not sure how to respond, so I nod and because he’s watching me in the rearview mirror he sees it. “We love you, girl. We’re not letting anything happen to you.” In the mirror, our eyes meet and a lump forms in my throat. Z’s my friend. My playful, prankster friend. He doesn’t do mushy stuff.

Z drives around the block once. There’s a small parking lot behind the little grocery store. He parks on the street across from the place and stares at it for a few seconds before checking the dashboard clock.

“Almost time,” he says.

Game on.

I’m shaking so hard, I stumble on my way out of the truck. Teller catches my arm, holding me steady. “You’re gonna do great, Trin.”

“Thank you,” I whisper, feeling less than confident.

The club’s counting on me. Time to get my shit together.

I straighten my shoulders and toss my hair back, holding my hand out for some cash the way a seasoned club girl would do. The kind of girl Ransom expects me to be, in case he’s somewhere watching. Teller slaps a few twenties in my hand before I turn and strut into the grocery store. It’s not one I’ve ever been to, or would ever go to on my own. Even though the Lost Kings have moved into Ironworks since they pushed the Vipers out, Wrath still doesn’t like me venturing over here, so I don’t.