Three Kings, One Night (Lost Kings MC #2.5)

by Autumn Jones Lake

  “Family stuff,” I answer, hoping she’ll get lost.

  “I brought those decorations in, you know.” Her tone makes it clear what she’s after. These fuckin’ dancers are all the same.

  Flipping out my wallet, I hand her two twenties. “Will that cover it?”

  She stuffs the bills into the garter around her thigh and smiles at me. “Sure, thanks.”

  “Later, Lexi.”

  I salute Rock on my way out the door.

  My next stop is the pharmacy. Gotta love these big-box ones that are open twenty-four hours, three-sixty-five. The pharmacist behind the counter doesn’t look old enough to shave yet, but he gives me a list of stuff that he thinks should make Trin feel better based on the info I give him.

  Teller’s still awake when I get back to the clubhouse.

  “She wake up?” I whisper as I get closer.

  “No. Been moaning and thrashing around a lot though.”

  I’m torn. I want to wake her and get some fluids in her—no, not that kind—but I also want her to rest.

  “You can go.”

  Teller cocks his head at me, but gets up and leaves us alone.

  ***

  In my barfy haze, I’m aware of someone getting up and leaving the room. Then the couch dips and by the sigh, I know it’s Wrath.

  My mouth is so dry I can barely talk. “Did you go somewhere?” I croak out the words, my throat so raw it hurts to talk.

  “Did we wake you up?” he asks.

  “No.”

  “How do you feel?”

  “Gross.”

  He chuckles softly, then sits up. The rustling of a plastic bag, fizz of a bottle opening, paper ripping. None of the sounds are compelling enough for me to open my eyes.

  “Think you can drink something for me?” Wrath asks.

  At his request, I sit up and instantly regret it. Pain slices through my head, and I fall back with a moan.

  “You’re getting dehydrated. Here, drink some of this.”

  He nudges a bottle in my hand. Even stuck a straw in it for me. I sip at the ginger ale thinking nothing has ever tasted so good.

  “Want some crackers?”

  “Ugh. One thing at a time.”

  He takes the soda from my hand and sets it on the table.

  “You move my tree?” I ask after a minute.

  “Yeah.”

  “Thanks.”

  I poke at him with my toes and he grabs my feet, settling them in his lap, warming them with his big hands.

  “You don’t have to stay down here with me.”

  He doesn’t answer right away and I start dozing off. “You had me worried.”

  “Sorry. I hope you don’t end up catching whatever it is.”

  “I’m not worried about that.”

  “You should be, I feel like I got hit by a bus.”

  “Try to rest now, babe.”

  I turn over and manage to fall asleep.

  I wake to sunlight pouring in the living room. Wrath’s sprawled out on the other couch sound asleep. Everything aches, but at least my stomach seems calmer. Probably ‘cause there’s nothing left in it. My head’s pounding, so I swipe the half empty bottle of ginger ale off the table and suck some of it down.

  Now that the worst is over, I need to crawl into my own bed. I feel bad leaving Wrath out here alone, after he took such good care of me, but I think he’ll understand. I drape one of the blankets over him and he doesn’t stir. It blows my mind that he was up all night taking care of me. I want to lean over and kiss his cheek, but I’m afraid of waking him. At least that’s what I tell myself.

  Even sick, I have to stop and admire him. In sleep, he looks almost angelic. You’d never guess what a scary jerk he can be when he’s awake. It’s nice to see this side of him again.

  It’s been awhile.

  ***

  Naturally, Trinity is gone when I wake up.

  I see she took the bag of stuff I brought her, though, so that’s good.

  Still, I’d like to know if she’s okay.

  As I wander down the hall, I wonder if she noticed the mistletoe I left for her.

  Probably not.

  I hesitate before knocking, because I shouldn’t be waking her up. Then I hear her shower running.

  Now I’m thinking about her naked.

  Great.

  When the shower turns off, I finally knock.

  She answers in flannel pajamas and a towel on her head.

  Her skin is still sickly pale, and she’s got deep circles under her eyes. She’s still so stinkin’ cute.

  “You okay?”

  “Meh. I don’t feel like puking any more. But I still feel like shit. Thanks for the stuff you got for me, I know it was probably a pain in the ass to find someplace open…”

  “Trin, it’s no big deal.”

  “I’ll get breakfast—”

  “No you won’t. You’re going to rest. Your only options today are couch or your bedroom.” My bedroom would also be a fine choice, but I leave it out. “I catch you in the kitchen, I’m gonna spank your ass.”

  Her eyes widen, shocked. I’m a little shocked myself. Because I actually mean it.

  “Take a sick day, Trin. We’ll survive.”

  She nods.

  I point to the mistletoe hanging in her doorway. “Look up.”

  A soft giggle that gets me thinking all sorts of inappropriate things comes out of her.

  “Do you really think that’s a good idea?”

  I hate what she’s implying and it’s on the tip of my tongue to respond with something nasty. But I really don’t want to fight with Trinity today.

  Instead, I lean over and kiss her forehead.

  “Merry Christmas. Now get some rest.”

  I shouldn’t be going to visit Lilly.

  Not tonight.

  Not on Christmas Eve.

  I know she comes from a big, tight-knit Russian-Italian family, so she’s probably not even home.

  It’s fuckin’ stupid for me to drive all the way up to see her. Especially if I just want to get laid.

  I can do that back at the clubhouse.

  Until half an hour ago I’d been at my own awkward family dinner. My blood family, not the MC. Tricky business navigating the minefield of family relations around the holidays. Eventually people drank too much and started listing all the ways you’ve disappointed them with the way you’re living your life. I’d managed to stay until a physical unease built up so strong, it pushed me out the door.

  Way too fucking cold to ride my bike, I’m trapped in my black truck, racing up the Northway.

  To see a girl who may not want to see me. Who fuck, may not even be home. Or even worse, if she is home, may have some other guy over.

  I do not like that idea.

  At all.

  I blame Rock for my predicament. My MC president and one of my best friends. I’d never have met Lilly if he wasn’t so damn obsessed with Lilly’s friend—his former lawyer—Hope. Sweet as they come, Hope is the last woman you’d expect to find dating an MC prez. Sometimes it shocks me she’s managed to stay friends with Lilly for so long. All class and beauty on the outside, with the foulest mouth and an appetite for sex to match any man, Lilly keeps me on my toes.

  She doesn’t care if I fuck around with other chicks, because she’s fucking other guys.

  First time this scenario has ever annoyed me.

  Tonight I didn’t bother calling first. Last time I went that route, she told me she was busy. I’m not giving her an out tonight.

  I even have a present with me.

  No, not my dick. That comes later.

  Her driveway is dark, but that’s not unusual. Christ, I feel like a stalky dickwad. Her porch light is on, but her little Lexus sedan is nowhere to be seen.

  Fuck.

  I knew it was a risk coming all the way up here.

  I’m still douching around in her driveway, trying to decide if I should wait or head back down to Empire, when headl
ights come bouncing down the driveway. I swear my dick pulses to life at the sight.

  ***

  I managed to bite back the tears until I got in my car. Over the years I’ve learned nothing can pierce your heart more than family. At thirty-three, it is scandalous that I’m not married and carting a bunch of kids around with me. Never mind that I paid for college and graduate school all by myself. That I bought my own house before I turned thirty with my own money. That I haven’t asked my parents for a dime since I left home at eighteen.

  If it wasn’t for my older brother, Alex, playing mediator, I wouldn’t have lasted through my mother’s mushroom soup with zaprashka—the first of twelve miserable courses I sat through tonight. Even though my mother bent her traditions a long time ago, and now celebrates Christmas Eve on the 24th of December instead of January 7th, the meal she makes has not changed.

  How badly I wanted to take comfort in the familiar smells and tastes of my childhood. But once my mother got busy picking out my flaws and failures, it was only a matter of time before my father, aunts, and cousins joined the fun.

  Lilly, when you gonna find a man to take care of you?

  I can take care of myself, Babbo.

  Nonsense, you’re getting too old to attract a man.

  Zia Bruna, I attract plenty of men.

  That one had not gone over well. I’m pretty sure my family still thinks I’m a virgin.

  I hate to break it to them, but that ship sailed a long time ago.

  Why hadn’t I moved farther away?

  I could call my best friend, Sophie. Before her parents divorced, their strict Greek expectations of her rivaled my own family’s. But she’s off in New Hampshire spending the holiday with her rock star boyfriend who has some downtime until after New Year’s.

  After a quick stop at Stewart’s, I have a quart of my favorite eggnog in my possession. When I get home, I’m going to introduce the eggnog to the bottle of Bailey’s Irish Cream I have stashed in my fridge. Then I’m going to crawl into bed and forget that I have to get up and do this again tomorrow.

  My heart jumps in my throat at the sight of a black SUV parked near my house. Nestled at the end of a long, bumpy driveway, my house is isolated—which is how I’ve always liked it. My foot slips off the accelerator as I process what I want to do. Turn around and drive away? Call 911? Call Alex?

  Before I can do any of those things, the door swings open and a big, black-booted foot steps out.

  Z.

  My mouth quirks. I swear to God, my nipples tighten and a slick rush of heat dampens my panties.

  Christmas Eve just got a whole lot better.

  “Z? What are you doing here?”

  Her throaty voice gets me so fucking hard, my dick’s banging against my zipper.

  Showtime.

  Snagging the package off the front seat, I meet her in the driveway.

  “Wanted to give you your Christmas present.”

  She cocks her head in a way I don’t find all that comforting. But her hand reaches out to take the bag. Before her fingers skim over the brown paper sack, I yank it away.

  “Nu-uh. Not yet.”

  She plants a fist on her hip and gives me a cool stare that’s hot as fuck. “You don’t have to bring me presents if you want to get laid. You and your big cock are enough.”

  Raising my hand and flattening my palm over my heart, I answer her in a wounded voice. “What a sweet-talker. Now, are you gonna invite me in? It’s so fuckin’ cold I can see your nipples through your wool coat.”

  Her mouth twitches with a repressed grin. I’m gettin’ to her. Next thing I know, she’s standing flush against me, pushing me back in small steps until my back is against my car.

  “Not so fast, sexy girl.” Slapping the bag on the roof, I flip places and pin her up against my car. Her mouth forms a small “o” of surprise, but I take it in a rough kiss before she gets out a sound.

  Then her hands are in my hair, pulling me closer. My arms snake around her waist, holding her tight to me.

  Fuck, I’ve missed this. No one tastes like Lilly. Smells like her. Feels like her.

  So fucking good.

  Breathlessly, she pulls away.

  “Do you want to come inside?”

  Hell, fucking, yes.

  ***

  This is nuts, but I don’t care.

  Breaking our kiss, I pull back as much as I can, trapped between Z’s hard body and his truck.

  “What’s wrong, all your club whores go home for the holidays?”

  He smirks, but a muscle tics at the corner of his eye. Maybe I offended him?

  “Jealous, sexy girl?”

  I flatten my palms over his chest with the intention of pushing him away, but I get distracted by the rock-hard muscles lurking under his warm, leather jacket.

  I’m not wearing gloves, so I curl my hands, trying to warm my fingers.

  He leans down, soft lips brushing against my ear. Warm breath tickling against my neck. “Come on, sexy girl, invite me in.”

  A shiver that has nothing to do with the cold works over me. “I already did.”

  “Then let’s go.” Reaching over me, he grabs the little brown paper bag off his roof and takes my hand,

  “Wait, I’ve got stuff in my car that I need to bring inside.”

  He waits while I grab my eggnog and the plate of cookies my aunt shoved into my hands before I left.

  Once we’re inside, I’m oddly nervous.

  Z is the only guy I’ve ever known who makes me nervous.

  After taking off our coats, I lead him into the kitchen so I can put the nog in the fridge and the cookies on the counter. Almost shyly, Z holds out the paper bag to me.

  “Condoms? You know I keep plenty of those,” I joke.

  He doesn’t laugh.

  “Open it.”

  When I do, I almost cry, which is stupid. Inside is a canister of Godiva dark chocolate hot cocoa mix. “I can’t believe you remembered this. Where did you manage to find it?”

  He shrugs casually, but his smile and the crinkle at the corners of his eyes, tell me he’s pleased with my reaction.

  “You said it’s the only kind of hot chocolate you like, and you have to have hot chocolate on Christmas Eve, it’s mandatory.”

  “Yeah, but the Godiva store at the mall closed. Where did you even find it?”

  He shakes his head. “I have my ways.”

  I’m not sure what to think of that. I know I’m probably reading too much into this, but the cocoa isn’t easy to find, which means he went to some trouble to track down this gift. For me. When that’s not what our relationship is about.

  “Christ, Lilly, it’s a beverage, not an engagement ring. Calm the fuck down.”

  “No, it’s really sweet. Thank you.”

  He raises an eyebrow at me.

  “You want me to make it, now?” I ask him with a laugh.

  “Well, yeah. You told me it was the greatest thing ever. I gotta see if it lives up to the hype.”

  This is getting weird quick. Z and I fuck. We don’t sit around sipping hot chocolate together.

  “Okay.” Rolling up my sweater sleeves, I get to work. I pull out a small saucepan, my favorite whisk, and a half-gallon of milk.

  I don’t bother measuring anything out. I know from memory just how much of each ingredient to use.

  Z’s quiet while he watches me whisk the milk and powder together over low heat. “The key is to constantly stir the milk so it doesn’t burn,” I tell him over my shoulder to break the silence.

  “See, I would never know that. I would have jacked the fire up and set the milk to boil.”

  I chuckle, because I can picture him doing exactly that.

  Taking down my favorite cocoa mugs, I stifle a laugh. Z’s going to think I’m nuts.

  At first he doesn’t notice, but then he tips one mug to the side.

  “Remington?”

  I chuckle, a high-pitched sound that splits my ears. Why am I so nervou
s around him tonight? “They were a house-warming present from my brother. For situations just like this. You know, if I had a guy over, he’d find out quick that I’ve got a shotgun and a big brother.”

  Z throws his head back and laughs. “Yeah, I bet he’s got a shovel too.” He stops and looks at me a little more seriously. “He wouldn’t like me at all, would he?”

  “I don’t know,” I answer honestly. “Anyway, joke’s on him. They’re perfect cocoa mugs, ‘cause they’re so big and weighted just right. I use them all the time even though they’re ugly as shit.”

  He chuckles as he watches me pour hot chocolate into each mug.

  “No marshmallows?”

  I wrinkle my nose at him. “Nope. Sorry.” Stretching up on tiptoes, I snag a bottle out of the cabinet where I stash my liquor. “How about marshmallow vodka?”

  His nose actually wrinkles. “Sounds a little girly.”

  “Suit yourself.”

  “Oh, all right. Hit me,” he asks, holding out his mug.

  After taking a sip, he glances at me. “Not bad, Lilly, you’re always so clever.”

  I hate how much the compliment excites me. But it does. I’m used to men complimenting my looks. More specifically my boobs. But very few men ever comment on my intellect.

  Z does. And it’s not the first time, either. He’s sincere too, which I appreciate, because it’s not like he has to sweet-talk his way into my bed.

  Let’s face it, the man has an all-access pass.

  That thick dark hair of his just begs to have my fingers run through it. His eyes are especially stunning. Mischievous midnight blue is the best way to describe them.

  He smiles, softening his dangerous good looks.

  “I like when you smile,” I say softly.

  “Oh yeah?”

  “Yeah, you’ve got these cute little dimples.” I tap his cheek to emphasis my point, and as I’m pulling away, he captures my hand.

  “Cute?”

  The feel of his strong hand wrapped around mine sends electrifying sensations through me. Gazing into his dark blue eyes, I’m struck by how much I really like Z.

  “I like cute, but I also like big, dangerous, and powerful.”

  “Am I those things too?”

  “Yes.”