White Knuckles (Lost Kings MC 7)

Hope’s mouth flattens into a line.

“Come on, First Lady, you don’t want to get me in trouble with Rock, do you?” he pleads.

“No,” she grumbles.

“Then let’s go.” His gaze returns to me. “You said three places, right? Post office, hair salon, dress shop. That’s it.”

“We need to stop at the drug store, too,” Hope insists.

Dex plows his fingers through his hair. “You’re killing me.”

Ravage flops down next to us, chuckling.

“Aren’t you supposed to be at Crystal Ball?” Dex asks.

“Not until noon.”

Hope jumps up, grabbing her purse and bridesmaid binder. “Let’s go, Dex. We’re losing daylight, and I’m sure we’re supposed to be back before dark.”

“What the fuck did I sign up for?” he mutters as he follows us out the door. “You hassle Murphy this bad?” he asks her as he opens the door to his SUV.

She pats his cheek. “Of course.”

“Where did I go wrong?” he whispers to me.

“I think it was the ‘behave’ part.”

“She’s going to make me pay for that, isn’t she?”

“Probably.”

“Post office first?” he asks once we’re on the road.

“Please.”

“So, Dex,” Hope says, leaning forward and placing her arm on the back of his seat. “Are you bringing Swan to the wedding?”

He chuckles before answering. “Am I picking her up and driving her to the park? Yes.”

“That’s not what I’m asking and you know it.”

Hope pries some more, and Dex evades all her questions. I poke her in the side. “We’ll get the story from her.”

“There’s no story.” Dex says. “I don’t date employees. You’re a lawyer, Hope. Isn’t that a rule or something?”

She snorts. “No.” I barely catch the hint of a sly smile that curves her lips before she asks her next question. “What if she wasn’t an employee?”

Neither of us miss the way his entire body tenses up. “You know something I don’t? She plannin’ to quit?”

I barely hold in my laughter. “What’s wrong, Dex? There must be hundreds of dancers in the Capital Region dying to work at Crystal Ball.”

“Not good ones who show up on time and don’t cause problems, besides…she’s talented.”

“That’s sweet.” Hope sighs.

“Did you think I was going to say something else, Hope?”

“You? No.”

Dex seems to appreciate that.

“Don’t worry. She hasn’t said anything about leaving. I just figured she’s starting to teach more yoga classes, so—”

His eyebrow quirks. “She is?”

“Yes. We’ve been taking classes from her for a while now.” Hope stops and tries to twist herself into this completely ridiculous foot-behind-her-head pose that she hasn’t been able to do in class yet, so why she’s trying it in the backseat of the SUV I don’t know. “I’m not as flexible as she is, but…”

Dex’s booming laugh fills the car. “For fuck’s sake, put your feet on the floor before you hurt yourself.”

As miserable as I’m feeling today, even I can’t help laughing.

“Anyway, I know she’s going to start teaching at Wrath’s new place when…” her voice falters and she glances over at me. Suddenly all her silly behavior makes sense. I reach over and squeeze her hand, appreciating her efforts to take my mind off things.

“Your man trying to poach my employees, Trin?”

“I might have mentioned how good she is.” I scoot over closer to Hope. She wraps an arm around me, and I rest my head on her shoulder.

“Oooo,” Hope says, like she just came up with the best idea ever. “We should ask Wrath to add pole-dancing classes.”

“Dear God,” Dex mutters.

I lift my head. “I feel like Rock’s answer would be something like ‘the only pole you’re dancing on is mine.’”

Hope turns pink and bursts out laughing. “Yeah, probably.”

We finally arrive at the post office. Dex holds his hand out. “Give me the slip,” he says, pulling into a spot in front of the building.

I dig the pink postal slip out of my bag and hand it over. “There should only be one small box.”

“I’ll get it sorted. Stay here.” He glances at Hope. “Please.” He barely hides his smirk.

“Swan’s going to kill you,” I say after he shuts the door.

She waves off my concern. “How are you? You’ve been so quiet all morning.”

“I don’t know. The gym isn’t mine, so I feel bad that I’m this upset, you know?”

“Trin,” she says with exaggerated patience. “It’s your husband’s business. A place he poured a lot of love into. Of course you have a right to be upset.”

I’m quiet while I think over her words.

“How was your trip?” she asks. “You never had a chance to tell me.”

I lean back against the seat and briefly close my eyes. “Amazing. We had the best time. It was perfect…until—” A few tears slip down my cheeks, and Hope wraps her arms around me.

“Oh, Trin,” she whispers. “It’s going to be okay.”

Then I finally admit what I didn’t want to voice yesterday. “I’m scared, Hope.”

“Of whoever did it?”

Shit, I hadn’t let myself think about that. “Yes, but I’m also worried about the investigation. I know he had nothing to do with it, but I’m worried once the cops realize…” my voice trails off and she sighs.

“The club?”

“Yes.”

“I’m worried about that, too,” she confesses.

“Someone died in the fire, Hope. That makes it—”

“Felony murder.” Her voice cracks on the last syllable.

My stomach lurches at the words. I didn’t know the correct term. Now that I do, it sounds so awful more tears fall.

In a softer voice, Hope admits, “I’m worried I didn’t do him any favors by sticking around when he was talking to the investigator yesterday or that I missed something important in his questions because I’m not a seasoned criminal attorney.”

I hadn’t considered that, either. “I’m glad you were there. I’m sure it helped.”

“I think Rock’s talking to Glassman today.” She must see the panic racing across my face. “Just as a precaution,” she assures me. “He won’t get involved unless he has to, but it’s good to give him a head’s up.”

Dex returns with two packages, ending our conversation.

There’s one huge box and one small. Hope seems to shake off the gloom from our talk and makes a squee noise as he passes the boxes to her. She hands me the small box and sets the other one on the floor. “Open, open. I can’t wait to see them.”

“Oh, wow. These are gorgeous.” I carefully pull the neatly packed, handmade leather ballet flats out of their teal-blue box.

Dex glances over. “They look like black shoes, Trin.”

“Pshh.” Hope smacks his shoulder. “Quiet. You don’t know anything about shoes.”

“Thought for your wedding day, you’d want like glittery whatever heels,” he says.

Hope chuckles. “I’m impressed you’ve given so much thought to women’s footwear.”

He rolls his eyes as he backs out of the parking spot. “Please, you know how much shoe talk I have to listen to down at CB?”

“No stripper heels for me,” I mutter as I toe off my sneakers and slip on the iridescent ballet flats. “I don’t want to face-plant at my wedding in front of everyone. Heels outdoors are a bad idea.”

Hope breaks into giggles. “So, they’re only for indoor use. I see.”

“Shut up.” I give her a playful push, and she laughs harder. “That’s not how I meant it.”

“Is someone going to tell me where this dress shop is?” Dex asks.

We make it there without too much trouble. It’s actua

lly not far from Crystal Ball, which makes Dex groan. “Why didn’t you just say that?”

“I didn’t think of it.”

He eyes the tiny dress shop, then sweeps his gaze around the near-empty parking lot. “I’m going to wait right here.” He holds up his phone. “Text me if you need something.”

Thankfully this is a quick stop. I’d picked the dress out months ago, but when I tried it on last week it was too loose up top, so I’d brought it back to be taken in.

“Hi, Gloria. We’re back,” Hope announces after closing the front door.

The shop owner fusses over me for a few minutes before handing over the dress and pushing me into a private room to try it on.

“Hope, can you help me?” I call out when I can’t get the last few inches of the zipper up.

She slips into the room and fixes the zipper. For a few minutes, she stares at our reflections in the mirror.

“What do you think?” I ask.

“I think I’m really jealous that your boobs defy gravity better than mine,” she says, placing her hands under her breasts and staring down at them.

“Hope, I’m serious.”

The corner of her mouth slides up, and she drops her hands. “You’re beautiful. I mean, you’re always pretty, but the dress is spectacular. Wrath will love it.”

“Are you sure you don’t know what he’s wearing?”

“All I know is he’s not wearing shorts.”

“Thank God.” I meet her eyes in the mirror. “You swear you didn’t tell him about my dress.”

She slaps her hand over her heart. “Swear.”

I chuckle. “You think it’s weird neither of us wanted white dresses?”

“Nah.” She picks my hair up, twisting it into a makeshift bun. “We’re trendsetters.”

I turn and glance over my shoulder, then do a full spin. The layered skirt twirls with me, then settles into place right above my knees. Bending over, I pull the shoes out and slip them on.

“Oh, they look perfect, Trin.”

She’s right. The shoes have a deep blue base, but the iridescent patent leather shines with various jewel tones as I move. They complement the embroidery of the dress perfectly.

“You think the gold ones would look more bridal? These were so freakin’ expensive I’m afraid to wear them.”

She rolls her eyes. “It’s your wedding day. You have to have special shoes. And no, they’re perfect.”

“You think heels would be better? Do these make my legs look stumpy?”

“What? No. You have gorgeous legs. Stop being ridiculous.” She fusses with my hair a bit more. “Is Krystal adding more blues and teals to the ends of your hair?”

“Yes, and we’re supposed to go over my makeup. She wanted me to bring the dress.”

“Awesome.” She claps her hands and bounces up and down a few times. “Let’s get going before Dex drags us out.”

Dex is waiting patiently in the SUV but jumps out to open the door when he sees us.

“Got your dress?” he asks, taking the garment bag out of my hands.

“Yes. Don’t peek.”

He chuckles, then stops me from getting into the truck with a hand on my arm. “Hey, you make him really happy, you know?”

“I hope so.”

Once we’re back on the road, he glances in the mirror at us. “Do you ladies mind if we stop by Crystal Ball before we go downtown?”

Not exactly where I want to spend time, but I can’t say no to Dex when he’s been so good to me all day.

Hope doesn’t seem to mind the stop. Even though Dex wants us to wait outside, she follows him into the club. “I want to say hi to Willow,” she explains.

It doesn’t escape my notice that the club has a lot of extra muscle stationed at the doors and around the interior. Many of them are Lost Kings. Some I recognize from downstate. Other guys look familiar, but I’m not sure where they’re from.

Obviously what happened to Wrath’s gym has the club on alert. A shiver of fear sneaks down my spine. I’d been so torn up about Wrath’s loss, and possible legal trouble, it hadn’t occurred to me that the whole club might be a target. Suddenly, I feel absurdly self-centered for going ahead with the wedding in the midst of all this chaos.

Hope tugs on my sleeve, pulling me out of my thoughts. I follow her over to the bar, and I’m amused by the way she doesn’t seem flustered here. She hops up onto one of the bar stools and smiles when Willow approaches.

“What are you two doing here?”

“Wedding errands,” Hope explains.

Willow reaches over and gives me a big hug. “I’m so excited for you two.”

“You’re still coming, right?” I ask.

“Wouldn’t miss it.”

“All right, ladies,” Dex says from behind us. “Let’s go.”

Hope takes a minute to finish her conversation with Willow, and I pull Dex aside. “It’s bad, isn’t it?” I gesture to the extra muscle stationed at the front door. “I feel awful doing frivolous wedding stuff. I should be helping the club—”

“Don’t,” he says, cutting me off. “He needs you now more than ever. Getting ready for the wedding is how you help him. Whole club knows it. You’re doing exactly what you’re supposed to be doing.”

His words help lift my guilt. “Thank you, Dex.”

“Any time.”

On our way to the hair salon, Dex glances at Hope. “If you really want to play matchmaker, Sparky’s into Willow.” His mouth twists into a cocky grin as if he thinks that will be enough to get Hope out of his business.

“Aww.” Hope sighs. “She’s such a sweetheart.”

My foot accidentally kicks the big box Dex picked up at the post office. “What the heck is in there?” Hope asks.

“I don’t know. Maybe Wrath ordered something.” I pick it up and don’t recognize the return address on the attached card.

“Open it.”

Sighing, I pull the card off and pry it open. “What if he wants it to be a surprise?”

“Then we’ll tape it back on.”

“Oh, shit. It’s from Lilly.”

Hope leans over to read the card. “That’s so sweet.”

“Her invite got returned. How’d she even know about the wedding?”

“I emailed her for her new address.”

“Oh.” Lilly and I had gotten to be pretty good friends when we were in Hope’s wedding. But I haven’t heard much from her since then, so the gift is a surprise.

“What is it?” Hope asks, poking at the box.

Dex hands me his pocket knife, and I carefully slice open the box to find something soft and squishy inside. “What the hell?”

Hope grabs the papers stuffed on top and after giving them a quick glance howls with laughter. “It’s a sex pillow.”

“What?” I reach over and snatch the papers and Lilly’s card out of her hands. “May your married sex never be boring,” the card reads. “Very funny, Lilly.” Even though I said the last part under my breath, Hope hears me and laughs. I flip through the other papers and snort at the part where the pillow claims your partner will be able to “achieve deeper penetration than ever before.”

“Jesus, I don’t think I can take it any deeper.” I shake the box. “He’ll probably split me in two if we use this thing.”

From up front, Dex chuckles uncomfortably. “Girls, really. There’re some things I don’t need to know.”

Hope’s still laughing so hard she has trouble catching her breath. I move to take the squishy mass of foam and fabric out, and Hope stops me. “It will expand to its full size, and you won’t be able to get it back in the box,” she warns.

I give her the side-eye. “Why do you know this?”

“Please don’t answer that, Hope,” Dex begs.

Murphy and Teller follow me to the meeting with the adjuster. They promise to stay out of the way. Not that I’m nervous about the appointment, but I appreciate the support.

We meet at the gy

m, and I’m not surprised to find the adjuster already there poking around the scene. He’s a tiny, bald dude. I could easily pick him up and snap him in two if he gives me a reason.

“Eric Sanders,” he introduces himself and shakes my hand. “I spoke to your agent yesterday and he filled me in.” He glances at his notebook. “I spoke to Mr. Wallace this morning and haven’t been able to reach your third partner—”

“He’s on the road but should be back tonight or tomorrow.”

He flips through his notes. “I see you recently withdrew a large sum of money from your personal checking…”

My jaw clenches tight. These assholes somehow already started digging through my finances.

“It was the final payment on the house my fiancée and I just built.” Boy, does it burn my ass to have to explain myself to this fuckwad. “If you go back a few more months, you’ll see other similar withdrawals.”

“Oh.” Some of his smug smile disappears. “Who’d the money go to?”

“Our contractor.” I rattle off the name and phone number. “Feel free to call and ask.”

“You also had a large withdrawal from the business account recently.”

I nod at the buildings next door. “It was a deposit. We’re expanding the gym.” My gaze strays to the scene in front of us. “Or, we were. Ask Jim, he can confirm it,” I say dropping our insurance agent’s name.

“Oh, I will be combing through Jim’s files carefully,” he assures me.

As Hope predicted last night, the conversation gets ugly fast.

“It seems awfully convenient you were out of town when the fire occurred.”

I hang on to my temper by a thread. “I reserved the cabin months ago.”

“So what?”

That seems less than professional, and I ignore it.

Investigator Brand joins our happy party an hour later. He has more questions about Twitch.

Now I have two assholes to deal with.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Four days before the wedding…

After my shitty afternoon getting grilled by both the insurance company and the arson investigator, I was in a hell of a mood. It’s a miracle I didn’t end up handcuffed and tossed in a cell.