Page 17 of Tattered on My Sleeve (Lost Kings MC 4)

  “What the hell is going on with you two?”

  My fists clench at my sides. “Don’t know, brother,” I answer.

  Shaking his head like I’m the stupidest fucker he’s ever known, he heads back downstairs.

  Physical pain burns through my chest. My fucking temper and inability to ever stop to think things through fucking ruined things. Again.

  The next morning, Trinity’s waiting for me on the couch in the living room. The same way she’s done every morning since we started training together. Relief floods through me. I fully expected her not to show.

  She glances up when she hears me. A slight smile curves her lips, but I can tell it’s forced.

  No reason to play games. “Trinity, I’m sorry.”

  She cocks her head to the side and arches an eyebrow. “What for?”

  I take a few steps closer to her. “Last night. I didn’t mean—”

  “You didn’t mean what? To stick your dick in a girl that minutes before you said was annoying? Or you didn’t mean for me to catch you? Or you didn’t mean to have such a low opinion of me? Which is it?”

  Shit. I want to tell her nothing happened. Except it’s a fucking lie. I had every wrong intention when I brought Cherry into my room. Stopping her before she closed her mouth over my dick doesn’t exactly make me a saint. “Don’t. It’s not like that.”

  Trinity rolls her eyes and flings a hand out. “You tried out one of the new whores. Good for you. I know how you like to break them in first. It’s what you do. I’m a big girl. I know the rules.”

  I’m actually getting a little turned on seeing her all fired up, because it means she actually gives a fuck. Except I hate that I hurt her. Again.

  “Trinity—” I take a step toward her, holding out a hand, but she bolts off the couch and backs away from me.

  “Are we going to the gym or not?”

  Hold up. What? “You’re still going to help me?”

  She glances around the room before answering. “Yeah. I promised to help. I owe it to the club to follow through. We’re nothing to each other. It’s none of my business who you fuck.”

  My eyes close trying to block out her flat voice. As much as I don’t want her mad at me, it kills me that she thinks she means nothing to me, when she means everything.

  This indifference is horrible. I’d rather she go back to angry. I’d rather she punch me, kick me, scream at me. Anything but this flatness.

  “It’s okay. We can take the day off.”

  She holds my gaze for a minute and nods. “Fine. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  Our president is a no-show for yet another party. His own birthday party, no less. Sending him a reminder text gets me nothing.

  Fucker.

  Trinity and I have reached a truce since the Cherry incident. We’re not quite back to where we were—yet.

  I’ve been trying to make things up to her. Show her how much she means to me. Make her happy. Some days it works. Then others, she seems to remember what an asshole I am and puts her guard up.

  If Rock ruins this party Trinity’s been planning all week, I'm gonna give serious consideration to kicking his ass.

  "He'll be here," I reassure her.

  "Do you think he's gonna bring Hope with him?" Trin sounds eager to see Rock’s woman, and that surprises me.

  "To a club party? Fuck, no. No way is he gonna expose his precious Miss Priss to this shit."

  That’s exactly why I think it's a perfect time to remind Rock of what he's been missing. When Z calls and asks if it's all right for Dex to let Inga and some skank friend of hers up to the clubhouse as a birthday surprise, I say hell fuckin' yes. Rock thinks it's some sort of secret that he hasn't nailed any of his regulars in the last year or so. Been saving himself like some sort of fuckin' virgin for his weddin' night. Although, I gotta give him credit, I’ve never had that sort of self-control.

  Never wanted to before.

  Without his delicate little flower around, Inga should have a shot.

  Trin touches my arm, thankfully pulling me away from my thoughts. I've been obsessing over my brother's sex life more than I care to think about tonight.

  “Did he answer you?”

  Fuck me, I don’t think I’ve ever known anyone in the life who wears their heart on their sleeve the way Trinity does.

  “Not yet, babe.”

  My phone buzzes.

  Rock: Be there in 20.

  I nod at Trinity. “He’s on his way.”

  She’s grinning from ear to ear, and while I understand their relationship a little better since Rock and I had our sit down, sometimes it still annoys the fuck out of me.

  “You gonna put this much effort into my birthday?” Shit, I didn’t mean for that to come out so harsh.

  “If you let me, yeah.”

  “I ain’t ever stopped you. You’ve always been too busy fawning over everyone else—”

  “Are you fucking serious? Why are you doing this tonight?”

  I don’t want to fight with her. “I’m going outside.”

  I storm out the back door before that sexy fucking pout of hers changes my mind.

  Fuckingfuckfuckfuck!

  Rock’s bike pulls into the parking area stopping me dead in my tracks. Hope’s on the back.

  Shit’s gonna get awkward tonight.

  Maybe Inga will be enough to scare Hope away for good. Because this bullshit with him not paying attention and dropping his work in my lap is pissing me off to no end.

  And it’s this chick’s fault.

  Jesus Christ, he can’t keep his fucking hands off her for a minute. I whistle as I walk over to get his attention.

  “Prez,” I greet—you know, just in case he’s forgotten what his fucking role in this club is.

  I say hello to Cinderella with a sneer and then ignore her. Rock glares at me. Hope ignores both of us and pulls something out of the pack on Rock’s bike and he takes it from her.

  “What’s in the box, prez?”

  “Birthday present from Hope,” he answers as he slips his arm around her.

  Huh.

  I follow them in, convinced she’ll lose her shit when she steps inside and witnesses what’s going down. Parties aren’t usually like this anymore. But they’ve gotten significantly raunchier in his absence.

  Rock gets attacked at the door. Hope should freak out any minute.

  But she doesn’t. Rock sits her down in a far corner and motions me over.

  I meet him halfway and he slaps my shoulder, holding on harder than he needs to. “Watch over Hope. I’ll be right back.” He tightens his grip. “Watch your fuckin’ mouth and treat her with respect.”

  “Oh, ab-so-lute-ly, prez.”

  “I’m not joking, fucker. You’re the only one in this room I trust with her right now.”

  Okay, that sticks in my throat a little.

  As I approach her, something resembling guilt touches me. She looks completely forlorn and out of place.

  “Didn’t think this would be your scene,” I shout over the music as I drop down next to her.

  She hesitates. Good, I want her to be afraid of me.

  “How long have you and Rock known each other?” she asks.

  Long enough to know you won’t survive in our world. “Long damn time.”

  “Did you meet through the club?”

  Her question surprises me. “No. We knew each other before.” I nod at Z who’s across the room auditioning potential fuck-n-gos. “Knew Z too. We all prospected together. Very different time,” I add.

  “Oh.”

  “You know much about MCs, Hope?” I don’t even have to ask, I know the answer.

  “No. I mean, only what I’ve learned from Rock.”

  Sounds about right and I can almost guarantee Rock has given her a carefully edited version of what the club is about. I let my gaze wander over her in a way designed to make her uncomfortable and I’m rewarded with her turning pink.

  “What are you doing he

re then?” I ask.

  She tilts her head, confused. “I’m here with Rock.”

  No shit. “What’s a woman like you doing with my president? You guys got nothing in common.”

  Her eyes gloss over. Great, she’s a crier. Girl ain’t gonna last a minute here. I’ve barely gotten started. She blinks rapidly and sits up a little straighter. “I like him, and he likes me.”

  Is she fucking blind? Like? So fucking obsessed with her he almost pulled us into a war with the Vipers because he couldn’t stay away from her, is closer to the truth. Never mind the club. She’ll destroy my best friend. He’s fuckin’ in love with her and I bet she’s one of those good girl types looking to satisfy her bad boy fantasy, but has no interest in him long-term.

  “You’re just as clueless as Cinda-fuckin-rella aren’t you? He doesn’t ‘like’ you. He’s fuckin’ in love with you. As in droppin’ responsibilities and getting us into bad shit in love with you. And you’re just over there in your little preppy, lawyer world, thinking what exactly? You’ll take a walk on the wild side? Throw on some leather and be one of us? You ain’t ever gonna be one of us, sweetie.”

  She recoils in surprise. But this is only a taste of what she’s in for if she keeps hanging around here. No tears—yet. Nope. Girl sits up straighter—which pushes her tits out, distracting me for a second—and nails me with what I’m sure she thinks is a tough stare. “Are you sure you’re not in love with him, Wrath? You sound like a jealous boyfriend,” she spits out.

  Well now. Bitch has some backbone.

  “Well, fuck if you aren’t a spitfire.” I can’t help laughing. That whole jealous boyfriend comment was completely unexpected.

  “Well, fuck if you’re not a big jerk.”

  All right then. “That I am, sugar.”

  A painful thud against my leg draws my attention up.

  “That did not look like a friendly conversation, asshole. I told you to look after Hope, not terrorize her,” Rock shouts at me before motioning Hope to move and then pulling her into his lap. She cuddles right up to him and he props his chin on top of her head.

  That’s new.

  I nail her with a look, daring her to tattle on me. “We’re solid. Right, Hope?”

  By that expression screwing up her pretty face, she wants to tell me to fuck right off.

  “Yup. Wrath was just giving me the lay of the land,” she answers while staring me down.

  Interesting.

  Rock’s already got his hand up her shirt. This should be good.

  Hope struggles to sit up and I sense Trinity just out of my reach.

  “Hi. Trinity, right?” Hope asks. I only hear the question, because I’m focused on Trinity, who clearly ducked into her room and dolled herself up after our argument. She doesn’t normally waste a ton of energy on spackling on makeup and shit like all the other chicks. Why the fuck did she do it tonight? I’m also distracted by her tits. She’s covered, but the tank top fits like a second skin and while her tits aren’t quite on display, they definitely grab my attention.

  “Yeah. Good to see you again, Hope.”

  Trin reaches over and taps Rock. “You want a drink, Rock-around-the-clock?” This is some weird thing the two of them have done for years, so it doesn’t faze me. Hope, on the other hand narrows her gaze for a second.

  Join the club, sweetheart.

  “Will you bring me a Crown and Coke, please, hon? Hope, what do you want?”

  “I’m okay. Um, maybe just water with lime?”

  I snort. Figures.

  Trinity finally spares me a look.

  Rock talks his girl into a drink. Then Hope straight up stuns me. “Hold on, Trinity, I’ll help you.”

  Of course the idea of the president’s girl helping her serve drinks freaks Trinity the fuck out. She darts away, while Rock keeps his girl anchored to his lap.

  And then they’re going at it again. Good, maybe I’ll get a better look at her tits. A whiff of unease settles over me, knowing Inga might drop in at any moment.

  The two of them are so wrapped up in each other they don’t notice the giant fucking cake, blazing with a crapload of candles, coming their way, until someone dims the lights.

  Cookie and Swan help Trinity carry the blasted thing. It’s obvious Cookie’s going to be a problem tonight. Trinity warned me a while ago that Cookie did not take Rock’s whole revirginization thing too well. And now the reason for it is perched in Rock’s fucking lap.

  Christ.

  “Okay, now I really need you naked, Hope.” Yes, please, for fuck’s sake, get a room.

  Instead of letting her man take her upstairs and fuck her brains out like she’s clearly dying to do, Hope protests. She doesn’t want Trinity to feel bad if Rock leaves before having the cake she made him.

  Woman barely knows Trinity, but she’s worried about the same fuckin’ thing that’s been pissing me off all damn week. Shit. What the fuck did I do? Now I feel even worse knowing Inga’s on her way.

  Rock—arrogant fuck that he is—doesn’t give a shit about the cake or anything else besides getting his dick wet.

  Thank fuck for his arrogance. Crisis averted. He picks her up, and carries her to the bar to grab a slice of cake.

  Yes, get her upstairs before Inga shows up.

  The gods have apparently decided to punish this angry biker thug tonight.

  “Happy Birthday, Mr. President!” Inga shouts as she struts in the door.

  Hope drops her cake, bits of it smoosh and fly everywhere.

  Fuck me.

  Inga isn’t going to let a little thing like Rock’s girlfriend get in her way. She gets as close as she can to him. Hands him one of her porno films and tells him she’s going to do a private dance for him.

  Now that bitch has balls.

  I should probably try to fix this clusterfuckin’ mess I made.

  Who the hell thought it was a good idea to allow that skank in the door?

  One glance at Wrath, and I know exactly how that bitch got here. I can guess why too.

  Poor Hope looks like she wants to puke. Please God, if she does, let it be all over Inga’s trashy slut costume.

  “Did you do this?” I ask Wrath in a low voice.

  He ignores me.

  Yup. Guilty as sin.

  Jerk.

  I poke him in his side and he glances down. At least he’s not smirking for once. I raise an eyebrow at him and his mouth curves into a sheepish grin. There’s no time to prepare myself before he drops down and tosses me over his shoulder.

  “Put me down, you big jackass!” I yelp as he carries me down the hall, but I’m laughing and slapping his ass as I say it.

  Everyone’s crowded into the champagne room, and honestly the idea of watching Inga and Peach do their lesbian-whore routine—that I’m sure will be an insult to lesbians and whores everywhere—is very low on my list of things to do. But maybe Hope will feel less awkward if I stick around, and I promised prez I’d try to help her fit in here.

  I step out in the hall and spot Rock having a serious talk with her. Wrath’s right behind me—because he hasn’t caused enough trouble tonight.

  “Rock! Show’s about to start,” Wrath shouts behind me and I jump about ten feet in the air.

  “Let her know she should come too,” Wrath says in a low voice.

  Trying to fix your mess a little late, jackass.

  “Come on, Hope. Hurry,” I yell to her.

  Wrath was right. She grabs Rock’s hand and drags him down the hall.

  Inga’s pissed to see Hope and that Z’s taken over the “throne” she arranged for Rock.

  Ha. Too bad, bitch.

  Rock settles Hope into a darker corner of the room. Probably a good idea. While I grew up around shit like this—and worse—I don’t really picture Hope frequenting many strip clubs.

  Inga is a straight up whore—oh, excuse me, adult film actress. I’ve only had a few run-ins with the skinny cunt. Those few times were enough to know that if Rock had

ever decided to make her his old lady, I’d seriously consider joining a different MC.

  Wrath pulls me into his lap. His lips brush my ear. “You okay?”

  Leaning back I whisper in his ear. “No. I really hate this bitch.”

  His brow wrinkles, but he doesn’t laugh like I thought he would. Before he questions me, the speakers blare to life.

  Showtime.

  I keep my eyes anywhere but on the disgusting duo and laugh my ass off when I see Rock’s not watching the show either. Nope. He’s strictly focused on his woman and it’s a beautiful sight.

  Unfortunately Inga also notices she’s not commanding all the attention. Her moves become more desperate, until she stalks over to them like the dirty, predatory animal she is and drags Hope into the middle of the room to “dance.”

  What Inga and Peach do to Hope is closer to molestation than dancing. The guys of course love it. Well except for Rock. When the two start trying to get Hope’s shirt off, that’s when I decide enough is enough.

  I pretty much muppet flail my way into the middle of the dance floor, but it distracts the two bitches long enough for Rock to carry Hope out of the room. Like the dick that he is, Wrath shouts, “Take it off!”

  I’m sure he thought I wouldn’t. But it’s dark enough that I take the dare, whipping my tank top over my head and flinging it at his shocked face.

  Poor Dex over in the corner looks pretty fucking miserable. He keeps his gaze fixed on Inga.

  Really Dex? You can do so much better.

  Dex has always been good to me and I hate to see him unhappy, so I dance over to him and bump him with my leg. His head tips up and the corners of his mouth curve into a smile.

  “What are you up to, crazy girl?”

  “Nothing.” I jerk my head at Inga. “Don’t tell me you’ve got a thing for her.”

  He shrugs. “We talk a lot when she’s in town.”

  I wasn’t aware that bitch knew how to actually hold a conversation. At least Dex looks a little less miserable. I pat his shoulder and he gives me a smirk, lowering his gaze to my tits.