White Knuckles (Lost Kings MC 7)

“Okay. Wrap it up, Sparky,” Rock orders. My cue to tune back into the conversation.

“That’s it. If we swap with them again, they’re supposed to come up here.”

“Oh, great. Just what we need,” Ravage bitches.

After they hash that out, Murphy raises his hand. “I got something I want to bring to the table.”

“Christ, you didn’t set a wedding date already, did you?” Ravage asks.

Murphy scowls in his direction. “No, fuckhead. That ain’t club business.”

“Go on,” Rock urges. I get the feeling he’s not aware of whatever Murphy plans to say.

“I’m entering into a fight.” He glances around the table, assessing our reactions, somehow avoiding my eyes. “Should bring some cash to the club, since we seem to be hemorrhaging it lately.”

When he finally meets my eyes, I raise a brow. Brother has some balls. Doesn’t even flinch. “What the fuck are you talking about?” I ask, dropping each word so slow, all noise in the room comes to an abrupt stop.

“Jake’s setting it up.” As if that explains anything.

“You got any idea what those underground fights are like? No one worries about skill level or weight classes. They’ll throw you in the ring with any psycho who signs up.”

“Yeah, I watched you do it for years.”

My hand slaps the table hard enough to make it rattle. “No.”

Murphy’s eyes widen. “I wasn’t askin’ your permission, brother.”

“No fuckin’ way.” I turn to Rock, hoping he’ll help me talk Murphy out of this. He shrugs and throws his hands up, so I turn to Teller. “He’s got a fiancée and kid to take care of. He can’t be gettin’ in the ring.”

Murphy thumps his fingers against the table, a sign he’s getting seriously pissed. Too fuckin’ bad. “It’ll help Furious get back on track.”

“How? There’s no gym left for you to train at.”

“I’m gonna train at Sully’s place.”

Next time I see Jake, I’ll fucking gut him for roping Murphy into this. Sully, too. Assholes.

“All right,” Rock says, holding up one hand to silence us. “Let’s worry about the investigation and finding whoever’s responsible. We can sort knucklehead out later.” He doesn’t glance in Murphy’s direction, but I know that’s the knucklehead he’s referring to.

Teller flicks his hand up. “You remember my friend Bree from high school?” he asks me.

I nod because I vaguely remember him mentioning her before.

“Her boyfriend knows this investigator Brand. Says he’s a hardass, but smart and fair.”

My eyes narrow. Now I know why I remembered the chick’s name. “She the one with the cop boyfriend? Please tell me you didn’t talk to her about this.”

“No. Fuck no.” His face creases into a scowl. “Her boyfriend knows Sully and Jake. Heard it from one of them, quietly asked some questions and she gave me a call.”

Interesting I haven’t heard from Jake yet today.

Teller shrugs as if he realizes I’m less than impressed. “Just didn’t want you to have the extra stress of this investigator breathing down your neck. Doesn’t sound like someone who’ll go along with whatever the insurance company wants.”

Everyone’s trying to do what they can for me. And I realize he only brought it up because he thought it might help. So I say the only thing I can, “Thanks, brother.”

Rock glances around the table, silently asking if anyone else has something to add.

“You know I’m meeting with the insurance adjuster in a few hours.” My way of saying don’t even think about giving me any assignments today.

“Reach Whisper yet?”

“Yeah, he finally called early this morning. Said he was on a run down in Mississippi, but he should be back day after tomorrow.”

“Convenient,” Teller mutters. No surprise. He’s not a big fan of Whisper’s.

“We’ll dig into that later, too,” Rock says. “I spoke to Loco earlier. He’s running down leads with some of his contacts. Seeing if anyone has information. In the meantime, he requested a sit-down.” Rock grits his teeth. “Of a personal nature.”

“Aw, prez, maybe he’s ready to confess his love for you,” Ravage jokes.

Ignoring him, Rock turns my way. “He specifically requested your presence.”

“Me? Why? I don’t have time for that shit.”

“Go after your meeting.” He waves a finger in Teller and Murphy’s direction. “I want you two with him.”

“Why me?” Teller asks. “Still can’t fuckin’ walk right. Ain’t no good if Loco gets trigger-happy.”

“Your hands work fine, dickhead,” Murphy says under his breath.

Rock clenches his jaw and stares the two of them down. “Can someone at this table do what they’re fucking asked to do without giving me lip, or do I need to start cracking your skulls?”

“Where you gonna be, prez?” I ask.

He glares at me, not happy about being questioned. I’m not trying to be a dick, I genuinely want to know why he’s not meeting with Loco.

“I’m meetin’ up with Tony. Then Sway. Need to have Z with me.”

Rock rattles off a list of places he wants everyone else covering today. Ravage at the burned out carcass of my gym just in case. Dex, Bricks, Hoot, and Birch at Crystal Ball. “We have extra guys coming up from Sway’s place, and Chaser’s sending a few of his guys to help us with security there.”

It doesn’t surprise me guys from the Devil Demons MC are helping us out. Their VP’s son has been working at my gym for a while. I’m sure the first call Dylan made yesterday was to his dad.

I raise my hand. “Trin has some wedding stuff to do, and I’d really like a brother with her when she goes out.”

Rock huffs out a laugh. “According to Hope”—he stops to roll his eyes—“they have a billion errands to run—”

“Rock,” Dex says, drawing our attention his way. “You know I won’t let anything happen to them. If you think you can spare me from CB.”

“Yeah. If you don’t mind.”

Thank fuck. I trust all my brothers, but if I can’t have Z or Murphy watching them, Dex’s who I’d pick. He’ll take the job seriously and won’t let the girls push him around. “Thanks, brother. Appreciate it.”

Just when it looks like Rock’s gonna release us, Bricks raises his hand. “Prez, I gotta mention, we’re behind on our custom work.”

“Fuck. Yeah, I know.” He glances around the table. “We’ll talk about it later.” He throws a glance at the rest of us. When no one else pipes up, he ends the meeting.

I stand and stretch. Sitting for so long leaves me feeling every one of my thirty-eight years.

Outside the war room, I stop Murphy with a hand to his chest. “What are you doing, bro?”

“Christ, you act like I’ve never been in a ring before. What’s with you?”

“Fightin’ down at Sway’s for fun is not the same as gettin’ in the ring with the guys who sign up for these fights.”

“Trust me, I wasn’t fightin’ for fun down there,” he growls. “Why are you so up in my business? Don’t you have enough to worry about?”

I can’t explain why it bothers me so much. Yeah, I don’t want him getting hurt. But it’s more than that. I spent years in the ring as a way to punish myself and unleash my rage. I can’t wrap my head around why Murphy would want to do this now.

Taking him by the arm, I drag him away from the war room door, so no one’s sticking their nosy ass in our conversation.

“Why now?”

He shakes off my hand. “Stop with the big brother bullshit. I know how to handle myself.”

Yeah, I’m getting dangerously close to calling him a pussy by making such a big deal out of this. If someone had tried to talk me out of fighting at his age, I probably would have knocked them out by now. “I’m not questioning your ability. I’m…worried about you.” That’s as close to an apology as he

’s getting from me.

“I’m fine.”

“If you need money, I’ll give you money.”

He blows out a frustrated breath but drops some of his defensive attitude. “It’s not that. I hear what you’re saying. I’ll think about it, okay?”

“Fine.” He’s not fooling me one bit. He’s just sayin’ it to get me off his back. He’s right—I have a lot of shit to get done today. So for now, I back off.

I hate to break it to Murphy, but we’re not done with this conversation.

Not at all.

I woke up terrified. Fiery nightmares suffocating me for the first time in a long time. Thankfully, Wyatt was already up and at church. I still can’t shake off the ugliness in my head, but I can’t seem to put any of what I’m feeling into words.

Hope, Heidi, and I are already sitting down for breakfast when the guys flow into the dining room after church. Conversation has been limited. Everything we talk about seems to lead right back to the fire.

I nod at the counter where Swan and I set up a buffet earlier. “Serve yourself, guys.”

Shaking my head, I turn to Hope. “I should have thought of that years ago. Let them fetch their own food.”

She chuckles and pulls out the chair next to her for Rock to take.

The guys are all seated and immersed in their breakfast and club stuff when Heidi leans over. “I’m almost done cataloging the photos, Trinity.”

“Thank you.” With everything going on, I’ve neglected all of my clients. Not good for business. At least now I’ll be able to give a few of them links to fresh galleries.

“Your notes said not to use Uncle Wrath’s real name or his road name, so I labeled his gallery “Big Blond Viking Guy.” A teasing smile forms at the corners of her mouth. The first time she’s lightened up all morning.

I choke on my orange juice and don’t have a chance to answer her. Wyatt must have caught the tail end of her comment because he turns my way with a smirk and a raised eyebrow. “What was that, Heidi?”

Her cheeks turn red, but her eyes glitter with mischief. “I went through your portfolio the other day. At first I was like ‘Wow, this guy’s smokin’ hot,’ then I realized it was you and needed a hit of brain-bleach.” She gives an exaggerated shake of her head. “Some things cannot be unseen.”

Murphy pokes her in the side. “Who’s smokin’ hot?”

“You, babe,” she answers quickly, leaning over to give him a kiss.

“Wait a second,” Z says, picking up on the conversation. “He’s one of your beefcake models?” He jabs his fork in Wrath’s direction. “Why didn’t you ask me? I’m way better looking.”

“You wish,” Wyatt grumbles.

“I did ask you, Z. You’re always too busy making fun of me.”

“You’d rather have big, blond, and scary on your covers instead of tall, dark, and handsome?” he says, running a hand through his hair.

“Do people still say ‘tall, dark, and handsome?’” Hope asks.

Ignoring her, he jerks his chin at Wrath. “So somewhere out there, he’s on some book covers?”

I grit my teeth because I hate talking about my work with anyone besides Wyatt and Hope. “Yup. Nothing you’d ever read, though.”

“What? I’m a romantic at heart.”

“Yeah, about seventy-five percent of the females in New York under thirty-five can attest to that,” Teller says, ducking out of the way of Z’s fist.

“I don’t discriminate based on age,” Z says, throwing an impish smile at Hope. She shakes her head in disgust, but laughter tugs the corners of her mouth up.

“Ew. Really, Uncle Z? There are some things I don’t need to know.”

“Your brother started it.”

Wyatt jabs a finger toward Heidi. “No, technically she started it by bringing up the photos in the first place.”

Heidi straightens up. “I was discussing a work assignment with my boss,” she says, in a haughty business tone that makes all the guys laugh. “I can’t help it if you have bat ears,” she mutters, turning my way and mouthing “Sorry.”

I glance up at Rock then Wyatt. They’re both quietly laughing. Something neither of them have done lately.

Even Alexa lets out a few happy baby-squeals, making things almost feel normal this morning.

“It’s okay, Heidi. We needed the comic relief.”

The adjuster called after breakfast and needed to reschedule our meeting. With my newly freed-up time, I decide to get the meet with Loco out of the way.

The easy feeling that settled over me during breakfast with the girls vanishes as I ride to Loco’s place in downtown Ironworks. Murphy’s in Teller’s truck with him. I, adversely, couldn’t stand the thought of being caged up even for the short trip over the county line.

I almost don’t recognize Loco without his gangster swagger and pimp clothes. He insists on doing this weird secret handshake thing and slapping me on the back like we’re old pals. Then we follow him inside the old brownstone he runs his prostitution ring out of.

Oh, sorry. Escort service.

Whatever.

Murphy and Teller follow in behind me. Girls rush over to say hello, but Loco waves them away. “Later.”

Yeah, no.

“What’s with the businessman look?” I ask when we’re seated in his ridiculously ornate office at the back of the house.

He glances down at his navy suit and laughs. “Had a meeting at town hall this morning.”

I don’t ask for details, because honestly, I don’t care.

“So why’d you drag me down here?”

I’m forced to lean over Loco’s desk because he lowers his voice and gets all dramatic. “I got a family issue.”

I nod for him to continue and try not to choke him. I am not in the mood to be doing favors for this prick.

“My cousin, Kidd?”

“Yeah, I remember him.” He’s a lazy little punk.

“He’s missing.”

I resist the urge to ask why the fuck that’s my problem. Just barely.

Murphy does it for me.

“Yeah, and?”

Loco casts a dirty look Murphy’s way but otherwise ignores him.

“Few of my guys been complainin’ ’bout him lately. Sayin’ he’s been actin’ shady. Going off to meet folks without telling anyone. Figured it was just internal power struggle bullshit.” He waves a hand toward the door. “Feel like I’m their dad and they’re all fighting for my attention sometimes, you know?”

I snort, because no, I don’t know, but I suspect Rock could relate to that feeling.

“Anyway,” Loco continues. “I didn’t take certain concerns seriously. Now, I gotta wonder. Night before your gym got torched, someone tried to set my diner on fire.”

“Shit.” Now he has my attention. “You catch ’em?”

“No. One of my guys stays there round the clock and scared them off. Only managed to light the dumpster in the back on fire. Kept it away from the cops.”

“You think it was some sort of test-run?” Teller asks.

“Don’t know. But arson’s pretty rare ’round here. Know what I’m sayin’?”

“You think your own cousin would do that?”

He flaps his hands in the air. “Ain’t Rock always sayin’ no one can fuck you over better than blood?”

I snort because yes, he does, and yes, that’s the truth.

“But yeah. We been bumpin’ heads because he wanted to start cookin’ meth in Ironworks, and I told him no. We finally got that shit out of Ironworks. We ain’t bringing it back.”

Well, at least there’s one thing we agree on.

“Some of my girls complained about him, too, but I figured they was just bein’ dramatic.”

“God damn, Loco. Seems like you got an awful lot of problems with him that you’ve been ignoring. That ain’t like you,” I add to seem like I’m trying to be helpful.

He glares at me for a second, then lets out a sigh. “Yeah. Hi

s mom—my aunt—she was like a second mother to me. Been tryin’ to look out for him, ya know?”

That’s probably the most personal information Loco’s shared with me. Who knows what kind of heart-to-hearts he has with Rock.

“So what are you asking, Loco?” This whole conversation’s gone on way longer than it needed to.

“If you see him. Or if you get a hint he was involved in the fire. I’m respectfully requesting you hand him over to me.”

It’s a reasonable request. Since I doubt Kidd’s lazy ass had anything to do with the fire, I agree to it.

After turning down offers of “comfort” from the girls, the three of us head outside.

On the sidewalk, Teller shakes his head and I tap his arm with my fist. “You’re a free agent. That little redhead liked you. Why’d you turn her down?”

He shoots a glare at me. “What are you, the social activities director of my dick?” he bitches, making Murphy snort with laughter. He turns his pissed-off face Murphy’s way and cracks a smile. “I’m trying to set a good example for this fuckwit.”

Murphy stops laughing. “Fuck you.” I can see he’s dying to add another comment. Maybe a reminder that his dick’s getting plenty of social activity these days.

Before they trade more insults, I smack both of them in the back of their thick skulls.

“Concentrate.”

Teller straightens up and shuffles closer to the truck so he can lean on it. “Kidd’s a little punk,” he says in a low voice. “But no way he pulled that off by himself.”

“Agreed. Let’s not discuss it here, though.”

We tap knuckles and get on the road.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

After breakfast, Wyatt explained that Dex had volunteered to take us to run our errands today. He also asked us not to give Dex a hard time, something I accepted without a thought. Hope, not so much.

“You promise to behave, right?” Dex asks, towering over us, hands on his hips, stern expression in place.

Next to me on the couch, Hope lets out an audible, irritated sigh.

“Dex, man, livin’ dangerous.” Ravage snickers into his hand.

Dex blows out a frustrated breath. “You know I don’t mean any disrespect. I gave my word I wouldn’t let either of you out of my sight.”