I take my time, stopping at a tourist-trap store to pick up a few things for Charlotte. Hated telling her that I wanted to be alone on this trip. She’s been more than understanding.
The ride to the Demons’ compound takes a while. Haven’t been out here since last fall before our trip to Nationals.
Before my world was turned upside down.
At the gate to the Demons’ clubhouse, two prospects nod and wave me in. I recognize Rock’s bike and a few others from my club. A relieved breath eases out of me. At least they’re still here.
Inside the clubhouse, it’s quiet. A few ol’ ladies are at the bar, talking. My gaze lands on one with long blond hair. Chaser’s wife. Mallory notices me and her face brightens. After speaking a few quick words to the others, she slides off the barstool to greet me with a warm smile.
“Teller! Welcome,” she says. I accept a quick embrace from her. “Rock said you were running a bit behind the others.”
Guess Rock was confident I’d show up.
“Good to see you, Mallory,” I answer, without any excuses for my late appearance.
She turns toward the closed chapel doors. “They’re all at the table.” Her tone indicates she has no plans to interrupt the club to announce my arrival. Fine by me. Her father-in-law, Stump, isn’t one of my favorite bikers, so skipping a meeting he’s leading doesn’t bother me one bit.
Instead, I take a seat at the bar with Mallory. A girl behind the bar bats long eyelashes at me as she pushes a glass of ice water my way. “Will you be sticking around for the party later?” she asks in a low voice.
Next to me, Mallory rolls her eyes. “Easy, Tracy. This one’s spoken for.”
“Shame.” The girl flips her hair over her shoulder and saunters away.
The corner of my mouth quirks. Mallory’s awfully ballsy.
Mallory returns the smirk. “You’re not the cheating type.”
She’s right, but I’m still amused. Not many ol’ ladies have the stones to get involved in a biker’s personal business. “You know me that well, huh?”
She shrugs and sips her drink. “How’s Charlotte?”
“Good.” Mallory’s only met Charlotte a few times, but I’m not surprised she remembers her name.
“And Heidi? She’s getting married soon, right?”
The mention of my sister stabs right through my chest. “She is.” I search for a way to move the conversation somewhere else. “Dylan’s busting his ass at Wrath’s gym, but how’s Angelina doing?”
She brightens at the mention of her children. “Angelina’s home with us for a little while.”
I can’t remember what her daughter does, so I just nod. “That’s nice.”
“Mallory,” an older woman rasps. “Where the boys at?” She grasps the edge of the bar and rakes her gaze over me.
Mallory lifts her chin toward the chapel. “At the table.”
“Why didn’t you send this one in?” She stares holes through my chest.
“Stump didn’t want to be interrupted.” Mallory waves her hand at the chapel doors. “But by all means, Doe. Go ahead.”
Such a diplomatic way to tell the old woman to fuck off. I smirk into my water glass and take another sip.
Doe shuffles closer and runs her gaze over me again. “You’re the treasurer, huh?”
“We’ve met before,” I remind her.
“You all look the same.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Treasurers or Lost Kings?”
Her wrinkled face splits into a grin and she wags a finger at me. “A wiseass, huh?”
“Always.”
“Don’t go hittin’ on Mallory, you hear me?” She jerks her head toward the chapel doors. “Anyone ever tell you the story of how your prez waltzed in here as a cocky teenager and tried to bag Mal? Right after she and Chaser got engaged.”
“Stop it, Doe,” Mallory says with more heat in her voice than I’ve ever heard from her. “That’s not quite how it happened.”
“The hell it ain’t,” Doe says, unruffled by the vice president’s ol’ lady scolding her in front of me.
My stomach turns. I’ve actually heard this story before. Then, it was a hilarious anecdote about my president acting like a dumb, horny teenager once upon a time. Now, it feels more tragic than amusing.
Out of the corner of my eye, I catch red spreading over Mallory’s cheeks. “That was a lifetime ago. We’re all older and wiser now.”
Doe shrugs and slaps my shoulder before shuffling away.
“I’m sorry about that,” Mallory whispers. “I hope she doesn’t go running around telling everyone that story this weekend. I doubt Rock will appreciate it.”
“He’ll live.” I study her more closely. “In a way, it’s an interesting piece of history between our clubs.”
She snorts. “I guess you could say that.” Her gaze shifts to the kitchen doors and then the chapel again. “I knew Wrath’s wife when she was a little girl too. So in some ways, Lost Kings will always be extended family.”
Rock has always worked hard to maintain a good relationship with the Demons. I assumed it was for territory reasons but maybe they were more personal.
The doors creak open and members spill out of the chapel. I brace myself for questions from my brothers.
Like a good hostess, Mallory walks me over to Rock when he emerges, then takes off.
“Where you been, welterweight?” Wrath thumps me on the back hard enough to knock the wind out of me. Fucker. “You missed all the fun.”
“Yeah, sorry about that.”
He slaps me again and wanders away.
Relieved Rock and I are alone, I turn to him. “Can we talk?”
The whole way here, I thought about what I wanted to say. Maybe visiting another club isn’t the most ideal spot to air out these old skeletons, but here we are.
“Yeah. Let’s go outside.” Rock jerks his head toward the front door.
I squint at the sunlight and slip on my shades. Our boots crunch over the pavement as I follow him to the side of the clubhouse. Several small brick buildings dot the property way back by the tree line. I make out a few Devil Demons standing guard in front of one. That can’t be good.
Rock stops at a picnic table. I climb on top of it and sit my ass down, resting my feet on the bench. Rock tests the bench before stepping up and sitting next to me.
“Where you been?” he asks.
“Canada.”
He stares at me but I don’t offer up any details. “Find what you needed?”
“No.”
“Charlotte’s worried about you.”
I run my hand over the back of my neck, forcing myself not to tell him to stay out of my business. “I talked to her.”
“Murphy’s worried about you.”
“Talked to him too.”
“You didn’t answer my texts or calls.”
This dad shit’s gettin’ old real quick. “I’m here, aren’t I?”
Several emotions seem to flicker over his face. Annoyance—I’m used to that one. Frustration—seen that one before too. Sympathy—that’s a new one, and I’m not a fan.