Reckless Truths (Lost Kings MC)

Charlotte

Marcel and I doze,talk, and play with each other for most of the day. We grill outside together. Part of me feels guilty that I’m enjoying our alone time so much.

“Do you ever wish we lived up at the property with everyone else?” he asks me as I’m slicing cucumbers for our salad.

“No. Actually, I was thinking how nice this was—just the two of us.” I slide a guilty look at my brother’s loft.

“I promised Carter he’d always have a home,” he says, making my heart melt.

“No, no, I’d never ask him to move. Unless he wanted to. He might not want to still live with us if he gets married or whatever.” I consider his question. “Why? Do you wish we lived up there?”

“Not really. You’re right. Everyone would be in our faces more than they already are. I didn’t know if you wanted a newer house or something…bigger?” He drops his gaze to the off-the-shoulder sweater I threw on over my bathing suit. “A pool?”

“I wouldn’t mind that.” I gesture toward the back of the property with the knife in my hand. “We have the room if you want to build.”

“Maybe,” he says absently, turning to flip our steaks.

“I’m going to run inside and grab some salad dressing.”

“Can you bring me a platter, too?”

“Sure thing, handsome.” On impulse, I lean up and kiss his cheek. “Thanks for all the sunny orgasms today. They really hit the spot.”

He bursts into laughter. “My pleasure.”

I hurry into the house, humming as I search through the refrigerator for the dressing. I set that on the counter and bend down to look for a grilling platter.

“I bet it’s in the dishwasher,” I mutter. Sure enough, that’s where I find the one I want.

I pass the nook where I keep my phone plugged in. A notification blinks on the otherwise black screen. I pick it up and carry it outside with everything else.

“I thought we said no work today?” Marcel nods to the phone in my hands.

“There’s a message.” I hand him the platter and set the dressing on the table. “I don’t want to ignore it if it’s a client. Or if Carter needs something.”

“I’ll allow it.” He winks at me.

I swipe my thumb over the screen and stare at the long list of missed calls. “Oh my God.”

“What?” Marcel’s spatula clinks against the platter. “Everything okay?”

“I don’t know. I have like a dozen missed calls from Bianca.” My voicemail is jammed full. All Bianca. I hit call instead of listening to them.

“Charlotte!” she screams into the phone. “Oh my God, I’ve been trying to call you.”

A lead balloon of fear settles in my stomach. “What’s going on? Is Carter okay?”

“No,” she sobs. “Someone grabbed him.”

Marcel moves closer, motioning for me to turn the speaker on.

“What do you mean someone grabbed him?” I shout. “Who? Where?”

“I don’t know. Some guys.” Her voice lowers. “The cops are here.”

Marcel grabs the phone from my hand. “Bianca, what happened?”

“We were outside my apartment. Just talking next to his car.” She sobs and hiccups through each word. “He was parked at the curb in front of my brownstone, like he always does.”