White Heat (Lost Kings MC #5) (4 page)

“Good. Let’s get your business out of the way first, just in case we run long.”

He raises an eyebrow, clearly expecting me to hassle him. It’s good to be unpredictable. We’ve known each other so long, it’s not often I surprise him.

“Prospects invited?” Murphy asks from inside the doorway.

I spot Hoot and Birch out in the garage, but there’s no reason to bring them in today. “Nah.”

Inside, brothers are scattered around the living room catching up. “Did you say Hope’s down in your room?” I ask Wrath.

“She was when I left.”

“Okay. I’ll be right back. Start moving everyone inside.”

“You got it.”

Wrath’s also full of surprises today. Not even a sarcastic smirk.

I’m not sure what the hell I stumble into once I get to Trinity’s room. Door’s open, so I push it wide. My girl’s perched on the edge of the bed, while Trinity’s poking at her with a bunch of different tools.

“Stop squirming. I don’t want to stab you in the eye,” Trinity grumbles.

“I’m trying, but it tickles.”

Sure, it’s goofy, but I sort of enjoy watching them together for a second. “You leaving soon, Baby Doll?”

They both turn my way.

“Yes. Our reservation’s for four o’clock like a bunch of old biddies.”

“Just means you’ll be home earlier for me.”

That gets a smile from her. “You sure you don’t want to come?” she asks as she turns back to Trinity.

I’m pretty sure the fancy-ass place they’re headed has a dress code. No fucking way. “I’m good, thanks.”

“That’s okay. Damon’s not going either.”

Good, then I don’t feel so bad. “You need me to drive you?”

“No. I’m not planning to drink.”

“Well, if you—”

“If I do, I’ll call you. Promise.”

“Good. We’re heading into church. Come give me a kiss in case I don’t see you before you leave.”

Trinity snickers, gathers up her supplies and heads into the bathroom. “Don’t smudge my hard work, Rock,” she calls over her shoulder.

Hope approaches slow and I take my time appreciating the wispy, bright blue dress she’s wearing. “Fuck, you’re fucking beautiful.”

She tips her head down, and I love the way she still shyly takes a compliment. It’s sweet and something else I love about her. When she’s within grabbing distance she stops. “That dress looks delicate and I don’t want to snag it.” I hold up my hands, rough from working all day. Her shy smile turns into a sly one as she presses her hands against my chest and rubs herself against me, taking the longest route possible to lay a kiss on my cheek. I turn and catch her for a deeper kiss. My hands thread into her hair, holding her still.

“Mmm, suddenly I feel like staying home,” she murmurs as she pulls away.

“Don’t tempt me.” My hand reaches out to finger the silver metal beading dotting the shoulders of her dress. “This is interesting.”

Her shoulders lift and she glances away. “I bought it a while ago but haven’t had anywhere to wear it yet.”

All right, I feel a little shitty about that. Don’t take my girl out as often as I should. She never complains about it either. And I know how much she likes getting dolled up. “I should take you out more.”

“Sorry. That’s not why I said it,” she says in a rush, making me feel worse.

“I know. Just an observation. Next time we go out, will you wear this for me?”

“Sure.”

She says it quick, as if she’ll never have to worry about honoring my request because I’m not going to take her anywhere.

Guess that means I need to prove her wrong.

“Rock! We’re ready!” Wrath shouts down the hall.

“Give me another kiss.”

This time she’s quick about it.

“Text me when you get downtown.”

“Okay.”

Guys are all waiting for me and I don’t feel a lick of guilt. I’ve certainly waited on their asses plenty of times.

“Let’s do this.”

Wrath shuts the war room doors behind us and we get down to business.

Sparky’s finishing up drying time on a new crop which we’ll be delivering to Green Street Crew tomorrow night. “We’re all set for that?” I eye the guys who’ll be joining me for that adventure and get a round of yeses.

I point at Wrath first, which raises a few eyebrows.

“Gym’s good. Got Twitch working there, cleaning after hours.”

“You trust him?”

“Yeah. He’s a good kid. Got a fucked-up home life. No different than any of us had.”

“Okay. Anything else?”

He shakes his head.

Bricks lifts his chin. “No fights?”

“Nah, I think I’m done.”

Z and I are the only ones who don’t react as if he said he planned to take up stripping in his spare time.

“Dex, you’re up.”

He sits forward and grins. “The two Viper chicks you okay’d? Mariella didn’t work out. Chick had no I.D. and looked about fifteen.”

“Christ,” I mutter. Fucking president of the Vipers talking me into that shit still pisses me off. “What’d you do?”

Z pipes up. “Sent her home. We were nice about it, but I ain’t risking our legit business on that nonsense.”

“Good. Ransom has a problem with it, I’ll handle it. What about the other one?”

Z and Dex share a look I don’t care for before Dex answers. “She’s quiet. Hot, good dancer, but keeps to herself.”

“Good. Keep your dicks out of her,” I warn.

Z has the nerve to act offended. Dex just rolls his eyes.

“Anything else from there?”

“Money took a dip. End of the semester slow down. I think it will pick back up during wedding season,” Z reports with a smirk.

“I’m sure.”

Teller relays his usual thorough money report. Everyone’s interested in the bottom line, which he knows, so of course he takes his time getting to the good part.

Murphy’s agitated about the run he’s trying to organize to Virginia Beach. “Can’t find a large enough block of rooms.”

“Should have started looking earlier, dick,” Wrath snarks.

“No shit, brother. With everything happening, I wasn’t sure we’d be able to go or not.”

“Can’t guys just double-up?” Dex asks.

Z punches Dex in the arm. “What do you want to do, put a sock on the doorknob?”

“Prospects sure as shit don’t need their own room,” Murphy grumbles.

“Why you guys bein’ such pussies? Fucking get a sleeping bag and drop it on the ground,” Ravage offers. He’s usually quiet during church, so I’m amused at his suggestion.

“No offense, but I don’t picture Hope roughing it,” Z says. He’s right, so I don’t bother disputing it.

Wrath chuckles. “I doubt Trin cares, but I’m getting too old to sleep on the fucking ground. If that makes me a pussy so be it.”

Ravage waves his hand through the air. “Can’t find a sleeping bag to fit your big ass anyway.”

Sparky signals me. “Boss, I can’t leave the plants, so you gotta count me out.”

That’s not exactly a surprise. I turn to Stash, because I assume he’ll also want to stay put. He just shrugs.

Wrath points at Murphy and Teller. “You two share everything else, can’t you share a room?”

I roll my eyes to the ceiling.

Teller shakes his head. “If Heidi comes, she’s staying with me.”

“Since when do prospects bring chicks?” Murphy asks.

“Since the chick in question is
my
sister, and she wants to go. She’ll ride with her boyfriend and stay with me.” The tone of his voice makes the
mind your business
message in Teller’s words
clear.

Z reaches over and punches Teller. “Gonna make it tough to get laid, bro.”

Murphy’s mouth curves into a sly smile. “She can always stay with me.”

Teller glares, but I cut in before their bullshit snowballs. “We’re looking at five or six rooms, if we double up. Can you make that work?”

“Yeah.”

Wrath’s brow wrinkles and he slides his gaze to me. “Who’re you staying with, prez?”

“You.”

Instead of mouthing off, he nods.

Mara sent me a text earlier to say dinner would only be the four of us. Ross, Lilly, Mara and me. Adam’s out of town and Sophie’s sick.
Shucks
.

I hate confrontation, which is silly. As a lawyer, you’d think I love it. But I don’t. Especially since I still don’t know what the hell to say to her. When I finally confront her slutty butt, if she makes some sort of “he must have misunderstood” excuse, I’ll scratch her damn eyes out.

Mara wanted to meet at 518 Prime, a fancier restaurant than we usually end up at.

“Jeez, some of these steaks are more than my first car payment,” she mutters as she looks over the menu.

It’s true, but, “It’s not every day you turn thirty-five.”

She lifts her head from her vigorous study of the menu and glares at me. “Shut up. Thirty-five sucks. It’s that much closer to forty.”

“If it makes you feel better, you still look twenty-five,” Ross says while patting her arm.

“True,” I add.

“Look who’s talking. Hope looks like a fresh-faced college girl.”

“Why are we talking about me? It’s
your
birthday we’re celebrating.”

“Sorry we’re late!”

Sophie’s voice jars me out of our conversation.
You’ve got to be kidding.

Mara stands to greet Lilly and Sophie. The flustered hostess rushes over to slide in an extra chair. This isn’t the sort of establishment that takes change in stride. Sophie ends up seated across from me.

Wonderful.

“So sorry we’re late. I’ve been sick all week. Didn’t think I’d make it.”

“That sucks.” What am I supposed to say? Serves your whoring ass right?

Sophie glances at me. “Hi, Hope.”

“Hey.”

Her wide-eyed, scared expression gives me a measure of satisfaction. She knows something’s up.

“So, how’s wedding planning land?” Lilly asks after we place our orders.

“Uneventful so far.” Shoot. This is awkward. I hadn’t discussed my decision to have Trinity as my maid of honor with anyone, and I don’t want hurt feelings. I’d still like Mara to be a bridesmaid. Lilly too. But I’ll be dammed if I even want Sophie
at
my wedding let alone
in
it.

Sophie’s been chugging wine since she got here and signals the waiter for more before turning my way. “Are you going to be a deadbeat bride again?” Sophie asks.

Ross snickers. “Do I even want to know?”

“She wasn’t—”

“I’m not into all that girly, wedding crap,” I explain to Ross’s shock and disgust.

“But…but, you’re like the girliest girl I know,” he says with mock surprise.

“I am not. That would be Mara.”

At the sound of her name, she tips her head up. “What now?”

“Are you on your phone at the dinner table?” Ross asks.

Mara’s cheeks turn pink. “I was checking on the baby.”

“Yeah, right. Damon’s probably texting her all the filthy stuff he plans to do to her when she gets home,” Lilly fake-whispers.

The pink on Mara’s face deepens. “Shut up.”

“Oh my God! He is!” Lilly snickers and points at Mara’s now crimson face.

“Why didn’t he come?” Ross asks. Lilly giggles at the word “come” like a fifteen-year-old boy. Dear God, are we really a group of thirty-something professionals, because you’d never know it by listening to us. Which is why I love my friends so much.

Well some of them.

My gaze flicks to Sophie and she gives me a weak smile. I can’t help but notice how uncomfortable she seems around me. I realize she and I haven’t been alone together since the night of the fundraiser. Somewhere down deep, her conscience must have some shame.

“Where’s Rock?” she asks.

Nope. Any softness I was feeling toward her poofs away when his name rolls off her tongue.

“Home.”

“With the muffler bunnies?” she jokes.

I glare at her. The table falls silent and I hate that I made everyone uncomfortable. “No,” is my clipped response. “They’re gone.”

“Yeah, but more always find their way there, don’t they?” Lilly asks.

“Sure. But I
trust
Rock. He’s not interested in scheming, backstabbing tramps.”

Sophie opens her mouth to say God-only-knows-what, but we’re interrupted by the waitress bringing our salads and baskets of Brazilian cheese breads. Sophie plucks a slice out before the waitress even places it on the table. Ross wrinkles his brow. “What?” She shrugs. “I haven’t eaten all week.”

Thankfully everyone turns the discussion on Mara and whether Damon’s going to run for the vacant family court seat that just opened up.

“Hope, would you end up in front of him, then?” Sophie asks.

It’s not the brightest question, and I’m a little surprised.

“Nah, something like that he’d have to recuse himself,” Mara says, shaking her head.

The rest of dinner is uneventful. Everything’s fantastic and I wonder if I can cajole Rock into throwing on his suit and having dinner here one night. Then I remember the last time I got him in a suit was when Sophie hit on him and I’m right back to my foul mood.

We end dinner with coffee and coconut cream pie. As I’m thinking about whipping out my Visa, our waitress informs us that the bill’s already been paid. “Happy birthday, from Damon,” she explains.