White Heat (Lost Kings MC #5) (15 page)

I’m torn. Struggling to stay fuckin’ sane. Seeing my best friend behind bars has me ready to fuckin’ murder.

Poor Hope.
Knowing I need to keep her from falling apart is oddly the only thing keeping me together.

Never woulda thought she could survive this shit when I first met her. And that’s why I think we’ve been rubbing each other raw the last few days.

But she’s stayed strong. She’s stayed focused. Heard what I said to her before we went in and took it to heart.

I’m not dumb enough to think Rock was fooled for a second. But the fact that she kept it together for his sake means something.

“You gonna be able to call Tony?” I ask her once we’re on the road. She’s stopped crying and put herself together.

“Yeah.”

I glance over at her, but she’s busy staring out the window.

This is awkward, because I’m not touchy-feely. Hope knows that. I don’t think she expects different from me.

Even so, I reach out and pat her leg. “It’s gonna be okay, sugar. I promise.”

She sniffles. “I know.”

Good.

She’s quiet the rest of the drive, but there’re no more tears. When we get to the clubhouse, she’s slow to get out of the truck. I help her down and she shuffles into the house.

Z greets us at the door. “How’d it go?” He directs his question to me, but holds out his hand to stop Hope.

“Fine. He looks good.”

Z puts his hand on Hope’s shoulder. “You okay, sweetheart?”

“Yeah.”

“She did good,” I tell Z.

He grins and pulls Hope in for a hug. “Of course she did.” Over her shoulder he quirks an eyebrow at me and I shrug. Yeah, she did better than I expected.

Drawing back from Z, she glances at me. “I better make that call.”

Z looks at me for an explanation.

“Rock wants her to reach out to Tony Cain.” Since Tony has held a number of important government jobs, he and Rock keep their connection quiet. None of us have ever spoken to the guy.

With a hand on her back, Z ushers Hope into the office we share with Rock. “Take Rock’s desk.”

I shoot him a dirty look and he shrugs.

Hope doesn’t seem to mind. She drops into his chair and her demeanor completely changes.

“Do you want us to leave?” I ask.

She seems startled by the question. “No. Of course not. But you can both stop hovering over me.”

Z and I both burst out laughing. Some of the tension eases for all of us. She flashes a quick smile and fires up Rock’s computer. It’s doubtful there’s anything top secret on it and as Rock said, it doesn’t really matter at this point.

She looks up a few things, jots down a bunch of notes and stares at the phone for a few seconds before picking it up.

Z and I end up staring at each other, so we’re not making her nervous while she’s on the phone. I’ve got to give the girl credit, she’s brisk, business-like and unemotional the entire time she’s speaking to Tony. Lawyer-like. Seeing her so soft around Rock all the time has made me forget she can be a hard-ass in her own world when she needs to be.

“Yes, I can arrange that. How do you want me to get you the number?” She pauses. “No. That’s not a problem. Is tomorrow afternoon okay?” She jots down more notes and taps the pen against desk.

When she hangs up, she spins the chair around to face us. Her eyes narrow as she seems to be thinking how to word what she has to tell us. “Can you guys obtain a burner phone for me?”

Z’s quick to answer. “Yeah, no problem.”

“Good. He wants me to email him the number tomorrow.” She rolls her eyes and shrugs. “Is that weird? I have no idea, so I just said it was fine.”

“No. He’s cagey. It makes sense,” Z says. “Anything else?”

She shakes her head. “He’s upset. Said he’ll do whatever he can to help Rock. He says he has some connections in Slater County.” Cocking her head to the side, her gaze slides between the two of us. “What exactly
is
their connection? Rock told me once they grew up near each other.”

Z takes her question. “As far as I know, they lived in the same neighborhood and were real tight. When Rock had to get out of his dad’s house, I think he lived with Tony for a while. Then they sort of went in opposite directions.”

Hope snorts. Opposite directions is an understatement. She raises an eyebrow for Z to finish.

“That’s about all I know. They stay in touch. Tony feels like he owes Rock, but Rock doesn’t ever impose on him unless he really needs to.”

She seems to think that over, but before she gets out any follow-up questions, Trinity stops by. “Hey,” she says from the doorway. “How’d it go?”

I motion for her to come in and she wraps her arm around Hope’s shoulders. “Is Rock okay?”

Hope squeezes Trinty back and nods. “I think so.”

Trinity meets my eyes. I give her a subtle signal and she turns back to Hope. “Want to come help me with a project?”

“Sure.” Hope looks to us. “Do you guys need me?”

“Nah, go ahead.”

Hope shuts the door behind them and Z throws himself back against his chair, stretching his legs out, crossing them at the ankles. “Tell me straight.”

“It was fine. She was chin-up while we were visiting him. Broke down afterward in the parking lot.” I shrug.

“She gonna be able to make it through this?”

I give it some serious thought before answering. “After today? Yeah, I think so. She’s tougher than we give her credit for.”

“Yeah, okay. Long term though? Think she’ll stick it out?”

“Why’re you going worst-case-scenario?”

“You were there, brother. That shit Carla pulled was hard for him to swallow. I don’t think he felt a tenth of what he’s got for Hope, for that bitch. Hope leaves, I think it would break him.”

“Rock doesn’t break. He would be a miserable bastard though.”

Z snorts and sits up. “Yeah.”

“Let’s stay positive, bro.”

Z smirks. “You dishing out feel-good advice is fucking unnatural.”

“Fuck off.”

“That’s more like it.”

Despite the joking around, now I’ve got another thing to worry about.

The guard who leads me back to my cell is a decent guy. I don’t think he’s been a guard for very long. He follows all the protocols to the letter, but he doesn’t improvise or get creative. He’s not a sadistic fuck, like the guard who comes in on the next shift.

Izzard. Hank Izzard. In my head he’s
Lizard
‘cause he looks and acts like one. I haven’t exactly decided on the right course of payback for this fuck yet.

If you think sitting in jail would have me re-examining my life choices and deciding to take the high road, you’d be wrong.

I’m on my back staring up at the ceiling. Picturing Hope. Felt so fucking good to see her.

Felt unbelievably fucking awful to watch her go.

At least I know Wrath and the rest of my brothers are taking good care of her. My girl didn’t fool me one bit. Her glossy eyes and trembling bottom lip gave her away. But she held it together and I know she did that for me. I’m fuckin’ proud of her.

I hate myself for puttin’ her through this shit. We’ve talked about what my lifestyle means. I know she’s come to understand and accept the club. Doesn’t make it any easier to know she’s suffering over this bullshit.

There’re a lot of people who are owed some payback over this bit of fuckery.

Ulfric. Known that fuck a long time. But he’s gotten damn sloppy lately. Don’t give a fuck when it affects his MC. When it interferes with my life. Takes my freedom away?

No. Something needs to be done about him too.

Maybe I’m rehashing all the people I need to get even with over this because there’s one thought I keep pushing away. After seeing Hope, I can’t help dwelling on it. As whatever
this
is drags on, can she hang in there? Is it even fair for me to expect her to?

Inside, I’m jittery as fuck. I work hard to control my breathing. In my head I’m pacing back and forth. I’m ripping the bars off the windows. And escaping. Outside, I’m calm. If it wasn’t for my eyes staring up at the ceiling, you’d think I was asleep.

Izzard strolls up and taps his baton against the bars of my cell. Such a bad-guard cliché. I’m offended by his lack of originality.

“Heard you had some hot piece-of-ass lawyer visit you today, North.”

I don’t respond or react in any way. Not too long ago, I would have attempted to choke him through the bars for talking ‘bout my woman like that. But I like to think I’ve grown older and wiser over the years.

“Funny, I think I ran into her when she was leaving. Had some big, blond dude all over her. Swear it looked like one of the guys in your crew, but that can’t be right. She signed him in as her assistant.”

He knows.

Fuck. The last thing Hope needs is to get in trouble. Because of our “gang association” Wrath probably wouldn’t be allowed in to visit with me. To avoid that possibility, we decided he should come in with Hope as her assistant. They wouldn’t dig as deep if he came in with a lawyer. Especially one who appeared as innocent as Hope. We’ve worked that angle with Glassman in the past. Now I’m rethinking the whole thing as far as Hope is concerned. Except, I can’t let her run around unprotected. And I know it will hurt her if I tell her not to come visit me.

“Guy looked more like her boyfriend the way he had his hands all over her.”

That finally gets my attention and I flick my gaze in Lizard’s direction. Not for the reasons he’s thinking though.

I trust Wrath with my life.

I trust Hope more than I trust anyone.

No fucking way is anything going on between them. It’s not even a question in my mind.

The more likely scenario is that after seeing me in here—in my spiffy orange jumpsuit, and isn’t that just some sort of full-circle irony bullshit—and putting on such a brave face for my benefit, she fucking lost her shit the minute they stepped outside.

I fuckin’ hate that I did that to her.

“They finally moved their make-out session to his truck. Tinted windows—couldn’t see much.”

I contemplate the wisdom of asking Lizard if his son should grow up without a father. See, I’ve done my research on the asshole.

But I’m really not in the mood to take a beating right now. My ribs are still sore from the “conversation” I had with this asshole yesterday. Inside these walls, my options are limited. I fight back, I’ll get time added or worse.

And I have a wedding I plan to be at in a few short months.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Another night and no sleep. Every time I close my eyes, shiny metal wrapped around Rock’s wrists is all I see.

Wrath told me the guys are taking shifts patrolling the property. Keeping an eye on things.

I don’t plan to go far when I open our door and step into the hallway. My bare feet make no sound as I creep down the hallway. At the top of the stairs, I catch the glow from the war room. Worried, something’s wrong, I hurry down the stairs.

Wrath’s in the war room by himself. In his chair. Staring at a stack of photographs. Nursing what looks like the bottle of scotch I bought Rock for his birthday.

“You can come in, Hope,” he says without turning around.

“How’d you know it was me?”

“My job.”

He still hasn’t turned around, so I walk around the table until I’m facing him. He points to Rock’s chair. “Sit.”

“What’s wrong?” he asks after I settle in to the big, leather “throne.”

“I can’t sleep.”

“Yeah. Rough day.”

“You?” I ask.

“Same.”

I point to the bottle. “Are you drinking Rock’s scotch?”

“
Yeahhhp
. Whiskey wasn’t cuttin’ it.” He half-smiles and taps the bottle, making a muted clinking sound. “Last time we drank this together was the night he told me he was gonna marry you.”

“Really?”

“Mmmhhmmm.”

I nod at the photos. “What’s that?”

He picks up the one on top of the stack and tosses in my direction. “Ancient history.”

“Oh my gosh, is that—”

“Yup.”

The photo’s of a much-younger Rock, Wrath, Z and a guy I don’t recognize.

“You’re all so baby-faced and un-inked.”

He snorts at my observation.