White Lies (Lost Kings MC 15)

“That’s when Merlin stepped down,” I add. “Their club just got busted up by the Feds. It’s in pieces. Figures some of them are scrambling to find another hustle.”

“Where were they?” Rooster asks.

“Vermont.”

“Jesus. We need more people in Ironworks, then.”

“That’s what Loco’s supposed to be doing for us over there.” Fuck me. As VP, Rock’s going to make me deal with Loco more often, isn’t he?

Dex blows out a long breath. “Loco’s done good for us. He can’t chase down every Harley riding through his town. Especially if they’re not flying colors.”

“We still need to warn him about what’s going on. They fucked with some of his businesses last time, too.”

“What are we doing here?” Rooster raises his eyebrow. No way my brothers missed the way I made it clear we’re watching Eraser’s back.

Would Z have made the same call as VP? I think so but it’s not like he’s here to offer me his opinion.

I glance over at Eraser, who’s busy talking to Griff and Remy. “We’ll stick around tonight. Maybe show up for the next race. Just knowing we’re looking out for them should be enough for now.”

At least I hope I’m right.

Twenty

Heidi

In the distance, I spot Murphy swaggering over the grass with Rooster and Eraser at his side. Ella and I are perched on top of one of the picnic tables in front of the concession stand. We stuffed our faces with sugar-dusted, greasy fried dough and apple fritters while the guys were off doing who knows what.

Ella tips her head toward the food. “They know you back there now, so feel free to grab whatever you want tonight.”

“Is that your way of saying you’re ditching me now that your man’s back?” Somehow I already feel comfortable joking around with her.

She laughs and gives me a gentle push. “Not at all.”

Our breezy atmosphere comes to a grinding halt the next time we glance over at the guys. They stopped to talk to some of the racers but it’s the girls who’ve circled around Murphy and Eraser who have our attention.

“Leather hot pants at a racetrack is an interesting choice,” I observe.

“Every fucking week,” Ella mutters, irritated but calm. “My name’s tattooed on his neck for fuck’s sake. You think they’d give it a rest.”

Well, at least the muffler bunnies crawling all over the MC won’t come as a shock to her.

“His neck, huh?” I wink at her. “I went for a different area of Murphy’s anatomy.”

She bursts out laughing. “Love it.”

Tonight, I’m not in the mood to put on the claiming-my-man-in-front-of-everyone ritual that sometimes feels like a requirement of MC life, so I stay put. Murphy pushes past his admirers and continues on his path to me with Eraser close behind.

Eraser pulls Ella up off the table and spins her around. They whisper to each other for a few seconds before Eraser turns our way. “You good? Stay as long as you want.” He gestures toward the concession stand. “Help yourself to whatever you want.”

“Thanks.”

They shake hands, and Eraser pulls Murphy in. “No, thank you. Appreciate it.”

“No problem.”

“We’ll be back,” Eraser promises.

After they leave, Blake drops his heavy frame on the table next to me. “Have fun with Ella?”

“We were talking about your fan club.” I nod to the group of girls closing in on Rooster and Dex now.

“Fan club, right.” He snorts and curls his arm around my waist, leaning in close to kiss from my neck to my earlobe. His warm breath fans over my skin. “You should tell ‘em what it’s like loving a man like me. Give them a dose of reality.”

Too distracted by his beard tickling so many sensitive spots, I only whisper, “Oh?”

“Bossy, out late all the time, chasing wind, getting my hands dirty.”

Our foreheads brush as I turn to meet his stare. There’s humor glimmering in his eyes but also truth.

“They don’t want to love you, Blake. They want to tell their friends they fucked you. The frustrating, dark, sinister side of being with a biker isn’t as interesting.”

He pulls me into his lap so I’m straddling him. It’s awkward. My knees dig into the hard wooden planks of the table but Blake’s arms anchor me in place, erasing any fears of tumbling to the concrete pad underneath us.

“Am I frustrating, beautiful?” he asks.

“Sometimes, but so am I, so I think we’re even.”

His lips curve but he doesn’t agree or disagree with my statement. “Am I dark?”

I press my hands to his cheeks. “You’re my light, shining brighter than the darkness around us.” I hesitate, closing my eyes for a second. “But when I think about what happened to Mariella, or Furious burning down, or you in jail, Sway getting shot…yeah, it’s dark sometimes.”

Trouble clouds his expression. “All I’ve ever wanted to do is protect you.”

“You have.” I turn my head, searching the area around us. “But you can’t protect me from life itself.”

He squeezes me tighter and rests his cheek against my chest for a brief moment. “Are you all right staying for this party?”

The scent of burning wood stings my nose. I gaze out at the track. Someone lit a stack of pallets on fire smack in the middle of the circle. A bunch of car stereos are blasting one of the local stations. A pickup truck backs up near the fire. Two guys jump into the back and start tossing more pallets on the ground. Coolers the size of a small car are lugged onto the field by two other guys.

“Sure. I always missed these kinds of parties in high school.”

He cocks his head. “Axel never took you to a field party?”

This might be one of the first times Blake’s ever asked me a direct question about my relationship with Axel. “It wasn’t his scene. Bonfires at the clubhouse were about it.” My lips curl up. “Of course, I didn’t dare sneak beer or anything.”

He chuckles and something about our talk feels like a healing of sorts. “No beers tonight either. I expect you to drive us home.”

“You do?” I offer Blake a piece of my fried dough and laugh when he licks the sugar from my fingers.

“Hell yeah. You’re hot in the driver’s seat.”

I flick my gaze toward my new car. “Thank you.”

“You never have to thank me, beautiful.”

I reach up and grab his shirt, tugging him closer. “Yes, I do. You really surprised me. I thought for sure we’d get a bigger SUV next.”

His teasing expression disappears. “You’re more than my ol’ lady and a mom, although you’re awesome at both. You’ve worked so hard these last couple years. You deserve to have a little fun.”

My chest squeezes. All the unease from seeing Bryce here and not knowing what Blake was off doing with Eraser melts away.

I really need to come clean with him about Bryce harassing me to do his work. It’s nothing, but I shouldn’t keep it from Blake. Tonight isn’t the time, though.

He glances out at the racetrack where everyone parked the cars that had raced earlier in neat rows for everyone to check out. “See anything you’d like better than the Charger?”

“Nope.” Blake picked out that car specifically for me. I’ll drive it until it falls apart and then ask him to put it back together for me. “It’s perfect.”

We feed each other bits of fried dough until it’s finished, and Blake teasingly nuzzles my cleavage, searching for crumbs. Hand in hand, we stroll over to my car, watching the party unfold around us.

Blake fits his hands into my waist and lifts me onto the trunk. “What if I scratch it?”

He shrugs and leans against the car. His arm brushes my thigh. “It’s getting painted anyway.”

My gaze lands on a big, old Ford pickup with another stack of pallets in the back. I snort at a memory that surfaces and point toward the truck. “You remember Marcel’s first

truck?”

“The ‘73 Ford? Hell yeah, I do. Who do you think helped him fix up that shitbox?”

One corner of my mouth lifts. “I thought he was going to cry when I doodled little hearts in the dirt along the driver’s side.” My finger reaches out, tracing invisible hearts in the air.

“Nah, if he was going to cry, it woulda been when he had to wash them off.”

His serious tone pulls me out of the fond memory. “What are you talking about?”

He turns to me, completely serious. “Your brother missed you. Always felt bad about leaving you at your grandmother’s. You know that.”

In my heart, I know this, but as a little girl, I didn’t always understand. Hence, why I doodled the hearts in the side of Marcel’s dirty truck when I was nine or ten. So he’d remember me every time he saw my drawings. “You had club business to keep you busy.”

He hums an affirmative noise. “He got into a fight with one of the other prospects about those little hearts.”

“Really? Who?” I can’t remember any other prospects, but I wasn’t around the club as much once I moved into my grandmother’s.

“Can’t remember the kid’s name now. He didn’t last long.”

Blake still seems troubled, and I didn’t mean to drag our conversation down. I lean into him. “Did you think you’d ever be Vice President?”

My voice is low enough that no one can hear me, but he glances around anyway. Here he shared something with me that’s probably not supposed to be common knowledge until he’s wearing the patch, and I’m blabbing about it out in the open.

He steps in front of me, pushing himself between my knees. “Would you rather be married to the VP?”

Huh? Doesn’t Blake know me better than that by now? “You can wear the VP patch or no patch at all. Doesn’t matter to me. All I want is you.” I stop and think on it for a moment. “I’ve always thought Road Captain was the coolest, though.”