Crown of Ghosts (Lost Kings MC 19)
“Sure.”
He leads the way down the stairs, shielding my body as if he’s worried snipers might be hidden in the shadowy foyer and beyond.
Outside, he stands on the stoop. His head turns left and right, slowly studying the area before he continues to the car. The neighborhood’s not great, but it’s not a war zone. Still, I’m charmed by his concern.
“Are you sure you’re okay with this tonight?” I ask as he holds open the passenger side door. I keep the skirt of my dress pressed to my legs as I step up into the truck.
“Yes.” He waits until I’m belted in before closing my door and jogging around to the other side.
“I know a high school play isn’t the sexiest date,” I continue once we’re on the road.
He turns and quickly sweeps his gaze over me, his eyes lingering on my legs. “I beg to differ.”
“You know what I mean. I have to go. Emily’s a good friend. Her sister’s adorable. She’s so talented too. Honest, the shows the school puts on are so good. At least, the few I’ve been to.” He’s a biker. Probably interested in getting back to the wild clubhouse parties, not attending children’s theater. What was I thinking?
“Serena, you don’t have to keep selling me on it. Or apologizing. I’m happy just being with you.”
Why do those words tighten my throat to the point of pain? I stare out the window and focus on breathing. “I like being with you too,” I finally whisper.
“Besides, I just got out of prison. You need to ease me in slow to becoming a refined citizen and stuff.”
“What?” I laugh.
“Tonight, high school play. Maybe next month, a Broadway musical. Baby steps.”
Uncontrollable laughter bursts out of me. “I can’t picture a biker on Broadway.”
He shrugs and shoots me a quick grin. “I was never good at conforming to stereotypes.”
I pick at a few stray balls of lint on my dress. “I lived in New York City for a while. I did some modeling. Thought I’d try acting eventually.”
“I’m not surprised.” He glances over again. “You’re beautiful.”
Heat settles over my skin as his rough-voiced compliment sinks into my brain. “I wasn’t tall enough.”
“You must be, what, five eight, five nine? That’s tall for a woman.”
“Five eight. But they wanted you to be five eleven and up.” I rest my hands on my hips and squeeze, remembering weigh-ins and long lectures every time I gained an ounce. “I was too ‘curvy’ for runway work.”
“That’s absurd. You’re a knockout.”
His outraged tone and genuine compliment take the chill off hurtful memories. “Anyway, it got too expensive to live down there. I had like a dozen roommates at one point and hated it. No privacy. Lots of sketchy characters. I didn’t want to get hooked on drugs to keep my weight down or be up all night. Watched my mom do enough of that,” I mutter.
Whoa. Slow down. That was a lot to reveal. I snap my mouth shut. Why’d I blurt out all that crap?
“You made a good choice,” he says.
“Oh, no.” A bitter laugh escapes me. “I made lots of bad choices. Bad decisions were my addiction.”
“We all do dumb things when we’re young.” The weight of experience seems to drag his voice down. “Don’t beat yourself up forever.”
“It’s hard sometimes.”
“I know,” he says quietly.
We’re silent until the exit for Johnson County.
“I think I know the way.” He points ahead and crooks his index finger. “Left after the toll booth?”
“I don’t think it’s a toll booth anymore.” I point to the sky. “They have the scanners out here now too.”
“The fuck?” He peers out the windshield.
I reach forward and tap the E-ZPass glued to his windshield behind the mirror. “It’ll scan this and come off your tab.”
He chuckles. “Guess I owe Murphy some money.”
So, that’s where he got the truck. Seems like everyone in the club has done a lot for Gray since he was paroled.
“Yes, it’s a left,” I confirm his earlier question. “Then right on Route 30 for ten miles or so.”
“Haven’t been out here in years,” he mutters.
“Is this…this is still Lost Kings’ territory right?”
He peers over at me with a curious expression.
“Am I allowed to ask that?”
“Yes. We’re fine,” he says, which doesn’t exactly answer my question, but as long as he’s not worried, I guess we’re fine. He’s not wearing his cut and from what I always understood, it was wearing your three-piece patch in another club’s territory without permission that was the greatest sin in the MC world.
I slip out my phone and text Emily to let her know we’re almost there.
Emily: I’ll meet you inside the doors to the auditorium.
Me: Okay.
“Pretty out here.” I peer out the windshield at the black expanse of sky. The highway lights are few and far between on this expanse of country highway, providing a dazzling view as we climb some of the steeper hills.