White Lies (Lost Kings MC 15)

“He’s one of the ones who retired.”

“Saw that coming.” A bad feeling settles in my gut. “What if they’re looking to recruit their own support club? Or trying to patch-over South of Satan again?”

“South of Satan just had their asses handed to them by the Feds. Whisper isn’t stupid enough to bring that sort of heat to his club.”

“Couple of ‘em already made bail. One had the charges dropped.”

He gives me a slow grin and clap to go with it. “Look at you keeping up on the outlaw news of the day. It’s like you’re fit to be VP or something.”

“Please, that’s like breakfast talk at Rock’s house.” When the girls aren’t around, of course.

“See, you’re already our little mini-VP.”

“Fuck off. There’s nothing mini about me.”

Dicking around time is over. Wrath widens his stance and cocks his head. “Seriously, where you landing on this?”

“Where do you think? Of course, I’ll step up. If that’s what everyone thinks is best for the club, you know I’ll accept the VP patch.”

He slaps my shoulder and gives me a good shake. “That’s my boy.”

I roll my eyes. “I’m hardly a boy.”

“You’ll always be a boy to me.” He slaps my cheek.

“That sounds creepy as fuck.”

“Look, I know you’re going to be focused on the support club kids for a while.” He pulls a face that falls somewhere between resigned and annoyed.

“You don’t sound thrilled about the support club.”

Wrath cocks his head in a way that used to make me feel about three-feet tall. Now, it’s simply annoying. “I’m not thrilled about anything forced on us by Priest.”

“I don’t think he forced anything.”

“Strongly suggested, whatever. We all know the threat of National sending more eyes up here is real if we don’t grow our ranks.”

“Z and Rock were pretty clear why we’re not gonna hand out patches like party favors.”

“Hence, the support club.” He shakes his head. “Forget that for now. I have a new batch of kids coming in for the summer program. I already think one has potential to be a prospect.”

“That’s good.”

“Supposed to be a talented little bomb-maker.” He makes an explosive gesture with his hands.

“Great, just what we need.”

“We can funnel him into doing something useful.”

“Or, maybe he’ll blow up the place.”

“So judgmental,” he mocks. “Where’s your mentoring spirit?”

“You’re the mentor, not me.”

“That’s a terrifying thought.” He shrugs it off. “I want you to assist with a few classes and let me know if anyone stands out to you.”

“No problem.” I attempt to work some enthusiasm into my voice and fail. It’s not the increase in my responsibilities bothering me.

It’s too many changes happening at once for my comfort.

Eight

Heidi

After stopping by the clubhouse for some snuggle-hugs from Alexa and making sure Hope doesn’t mind watching her for a little longer, I head to school for an afternoon class. I’ll probably stay on campus to get some work done after.

Inside the lecture hall, Dawn waves to me, and I hurry to take the seat next to her. I slip my laptop out of my bag and aim my attention at the front of the room.

The two-hour lecture covers some radiation-induced mutations of DNA and chromosomes. Exciting stuff. I tap out notes on my laptop. Later, I’ll add pictures and diagrams to my notes. Eventually, I’ll turn my notes into flashcards to study for finals.

As much as I try to concentrate on the lecture, my mind keeps wandering back to our project. As soon as class ends, I head to the computer lab to access some of the data I need.

It’s late. The lab has a note in the window that the student who monitors the lab in the evenings will be back in an hour.

I wrap my hand around the cool metal lever and push. The door swings open silently. I flick the switch on the wall, and the overhead lights hum to life.

Maybe it’s a habit I picked up from Blake, but I immediately go for the last row where I can have my back to the wall. Not that I should have to worry about anyone sneaking up on me at school, but it’s automatic.

Part of our project was to collect information via confidential blind surveys and interpret the results. I struggled through statistics, so this was supposed to be Bryce’s contribution to the project.

I call up what I need and pull out one of my textbooks.

“Fucking Bryce,” I grumble. I’m never going to figure out this crap on my own.

A ping of something metallic startles me.

I glance up, but I’m still the only person in here.

Silence.

My gaze scans what I can see of the hallway through the lab’s windows.

No one.

Overhead, the air conditioner rattles to life.

“Great, because it’s not cold enough in here.” My voice echoes in the otherwise empty room. I should’ve asked Dawn to come with me, so I wouldn’t have to resort to talking to myself.

I read through the questions and study the results again.

Click.

I lift my head.

Bryce is at the door.

I duck down behind the computer screen, hoping he didn’t see me. Maybe he’ll read the note, assume the lab is closed and won’t bother to try the door.

Except you had to turn on the lights, dumbass.

The slow whine of the door swinging open makes every hair on my arms stand up.

I can’t believe I’m cowering behind the computer. Why should I be afraid?

I duck down lower and grab my backpack, setting it on the chair next to me.

In case I need to make a run for it.

Pretending I wasn’t just trying to hide from him, I glance up again.

Our eyes lock across the room. Nothing between us except a swath of cheap industrial tile floor, rows of particle board desks, rolling chairs, and dozens of sleeping computers.

Something cutting like, finally here to do some work, dances on the tip of my tongue, but the icy glare he sends my way seals my mouth shut.

We’re separated by ten, maybe fifteen feet. He takes a step toward the center aisle of the lab.

The hair on the back of my neck prickles. I ease out of my seat, pulling my backpack off the chair.

“You better talk to your friend and get Professor Emory off my back.” No, hello, Heidi, how are you? Just a demand coated with menace.

A spider of fear crawls over my skin. My hand strays to the pocket in my backpack, where I have a can of pepper spray attached to my keyring. Unfortunately, I left the hammer Blake gave me at home.

I push in my chair and slide to the end of the desk, determined not to get trapped back here.

The lab is a poorly designed room. There are two exits, but I’ll need to push past Bryce to access either one.

Wait, why am I afraid of this jerk?

I haven’t done anything wrong. Hell, I’m not even the one who reported him. Blake and Marcel have been giving me tips on how to defend myself since I could walk. Hope, Trinity, Charlotte, Lilly and I have recently taken some of Jake’s self-defense classes. Not that I’m looking for a confrontation, but I can handle anything this douchewaffle throws my way.

Let’s not get cocky. He has at least four inches and probably forty pounds on me.

Chin up and back straight, I face him. “You should’ve upheld your end of the project. It’s out of my hands.”

“Out of your hands?” he repeats slowly. “You’re not that stupid, Heidi. Go tell Emory that your slutty friend is mistaken.” He pauses and stares at me with cold, calculating eyes. “Vouch for me.”

I gesture toward the computer I’d been working on. “Vouch for you? Like hell. I’m stuck here doing your work.”

He shrugs. “You’re smar

t. You’ll probably do a better job than I would have anyway.”

“That’s not the point. I don’t have time to do your work and mine.”

“If you don’t talk to Emory for me, I’m going to fail this class, and I can’t graduate.”

“Good. Maybe you shouldn’t.”

He steps closer and my fingers close around the cool metal canister of pepper spray, making the keyring jingle as it shifts. Bryce is too focused on my face to notice.

I widen my stance and prepare to strike if necessary, just how Murphy’s taught me.