Twisted Mercy (Red Team Book 4) (32 page)

“One night, my sister went to a party, blew off steam, drank too much, and wrapped her car around a tree on the way home. My mom made it about three months after that before she committed suicide. I wasn’t there for any of them. Not a goddamned one.”

“So, how is it that you’re out of prison?”

“The guys you met at the house, they offered me a deal. They needed someone with my skills and background.”

Hope swallowed hard. He was rubbing his scars. She moved his hand aside and rested her fingers against the marks. “These are your family.”

He stared at her for a long moment, his face so tight she thought he might shatter. “Yeah. So, when I told you I was that guy, I meant it. You should run screaming from me.”

“Or maybe I should hold you while you scream.” She studied him, so filled with questions now that he was finally letting her in, but there was too much pain in his eyes. She couldn’t press any further. He looked beyond her to the dusky sky. She turned around to lean against his chest and watched the fading light.

“There’s something I need to ask you, Hope,” he said after a few minutes.

“Okay.”

“A friend of mine’s getting married this weekend. Would you go with me to the ceremony?”

She twisted to look at him. “A WKB wedding? Is there a run afterwards?”

“Not WKB. You met Kit. He and his girl are finally tying the knot.”

“Oh.” No. She did not want to get pulled into that world. It was so far out of her comfort zone, it wasn’t even funny. His associates gave her chills.

She must have taken too long to answer, for he said, “Never mind.”

“Mads—”
 

“Forget it. It’s all good. That’s where I’ll be tomorrow, at Blade’s house, if you change your mind. The wedding’s at five.”

“I can’t crash a wedding. Those things are more tightly calibrated than a V-Twin.”

“You wouldn’t be crashing it. I told Ivy you were coming. But if you don’t, I understand. The guys can be a little overwhelming.” He touched his bottle to hers. “Chill, babe. I just kinda wanted you around. I’m tired of being alone at those things.”

Hope relaxed against him, listened to the sound of his breathing. The sun had dipped below the far mountain ridges, leaving sherbet colors of orange and peach and pink to spill across the sky and wash over the trees. “I’ve never been to a wedding.”

“No? Why not?”

She shrugged. “No family. And the guys I usually hung with from the shops where I’ve worked were a long way from husband material—or they were already married.”

“You’re not missing much.”

“Is it a formal wedding?”

“Mm-hmm. I’ve been ordered to show up in a tux.”

She turned back and looked at him, smiling. “You have a tux?”

“Yeah.”

“Is it made out of biker leathers?”

“No.”

Her smile widened in the face of his surly expression. She lifted a hand to touch his cheek. He caught her hand and kissed her palm, the motion letting him break eye contact with her. She turned back around. Picking up his hand, she held it against her heart. It was hard for her to reconcile the peace she felt in his arms right now with her persistent worry about how things were going to work out.
 

“Hungry?” he asked.

“I am.”

He dug into the bag and pulled out a ham and cheese sandwich. “Nothing fancy.” He held half the sandwich and fed her a bite, then took a bite himself. Together they ate the first sandwich, then he polished off the second one. They lingered to watch the light completely fade from the sky, then waited for the stars to come out.
 

Max put his warm vest on her. She’d never been so alone sitting this close to another person before in her life. It hurt to be with him. And she was beginning to think she couldn’t survive without him.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

Selena looked at Val as they walked toward the nail salon. She thought he’d have backed out long before this. The salon was right next to the little teahouse. In fact, everyone who went for a mani/pedi was offered tea from the place next door.

“Why did you want to come for tea in the first place, Val?” she asked, remembering it was his invitation that started their fight.

He stopped on the sidewalk. “Before you joined us, there was a kerfuffle in town. Seems we scared the folks around here and they wanted us gone. Then the rumble happened with the WKB, and opinion seemed to shift back in favor of us. I wondered how things stood now. If you ever want to take the pulse of a place, you ask its women. They’re the heart of a town. I needed you as an excuse to go to the teahouse. The mani/pedi works as well.”

“Well, why didn’t you just say that?”
 

He grinned. “Why would I when I enjoyed our sparring match?”

She sighed. “You’re a jerk.”

“Sometimes. For real, sometimes I am.” He opened the door and let her walk in first.

The nail shop and the teahouse next door were two little businesses set in old cottages that had been converted for their use. The two businesses were owned by the same family. Selena hadn’t been in the teahouse, but this shop doubled as an artsy antique consignment shop.
 

Some of the interior walls had been removed, making space for massage chairs and nail stations. Paintings and prints for sale hung in just about every available space. Shelves here and there showcased china sets and household knickknacks.
 

It was the kind of store that gave a man hives. But not Val. He walked into the place like he owned it. It was Saturday and the shop was busy. Women were already at most of the stations, with some waiting in the front area. Selena frowned as she saw them ogling him.
 

Val inquired at the front desk about their appointment. The lady’s eyes widened as she looked up at him. Selena wanted to snap her fingers and break her focus. Val smiled at the girl. She dropped her pen.

“Yes. I’ll just take you to your table. Jackie will be doing your manicure, ma’am,” the girl said as she led them to the only open station. Val held a chair for her in front of the desk. Jackie closed a drawer as she looked up at them, clattering some of the utensils on the surface. Visibly gathering herself, she smiled at Val and introduced herself.

“How nice that you’ve brought your girlfriend in.”

“She’s not my girlfriend.” His deep voice had women across the room looking over at him.

“Your friend…”

“Yeah, she’s not really my friend either.”

“He lost a bet,” Selena said, interrupting more convo between them.

“Oh?” Jackie looked at him, questions filling her eyes.

“Yep. And now he’s got to have his nails painted. Pink. Your loudest, brightest, most in-your-face pink.” Selena looked at the girl’s horrified face and smiled.

“Really?” Jackie sent Val a worried look.
 

“Let’s do it,” Val said, setting his right hand on the station’s surface. “I only have to wear it for twenty-four hours, so let’s go with a polish and not a shellac. I’ll need to take it off tomorrow.”

Selena enjoyed watching the manicurist absorb the fact that Val knew the difference in nail treatments. Jackie looked over at her.
 

Selena lifted her brows. “Welcome to my life. I thought it would be a punishment. Who knew?”
 

A waitress came over and offered them a selection of teas and treats. “I’d kill for a cup of tea,” Val said, scanning the laminated menu. “How about a pot of ‘Love’s First Blossom’? Is that a house blend?”

The waitress smiled and made the mistake of meeting Val’s eyes. She got stuck there for a minute. Selena felt sorry for her.
 

“It is a proprietary blend,” she said when she could marshal her faculties. “It’s sweet with a hint of rose and lavender.”

“We’ll have a pot of that.” He looked at Selena. “Unless you’d rather something other than tea?”

She shook her head. “No, I’ll try the tea.”

“And bring some scones, too,” he added to their order.

“Which ones?” the waitress asked.

“How about a sample of each? We’ll share.”

The girl lost herself in Val again until Selena cleared her throat. A few minutes later, the proprietress stopped by to chat with them. Evidently a fly-by visit wasn’t what she had in mind, for she pulled up a chair and settled in for a nice convo. She squealed when she learned that Selena and Val were going to the “Banks-Bolanger” wedding.
 

Not long after that, several other women joined their circle. And when their tea and scones arrived, Val managed to get one of them to feed him and another to hold his cup…because his nails were wet. Of course.

Two hours later, when they left the shop, Val had the loveliest “Courtesan Pink” mani Selena had ever seen, and she was sporting the start of a migraine.

“How can you deal with so much estrogen?” she asked.

“How can you not?” he countered.

“Did you learn what you wanted to know?”

“I did. But even better, I let them put a face to the team. They won’t be so quick to demonize us next time there’s some random shootout in town.”

Selena couldn’t help herself. She broke out laughing.
 

* * *
 

Hope rolled the last bike out of her shop. It was mid-afternoon already. She’d hoped a few more bikes would come in so she could keep busy, keep her mind off Mads. In a tux. He’d said she should come on down if she changed her mind.

She walked over to her tool cart, straightening the things she’d used today. She looked at her phone. It was 2:05 p.m. Her stomach knotted. Should she go? Would the bridal couple mind a late addition?
 

She had nothing to wear. Absolutely nothing. Except jeans and biker tees.

Mads would be wearing a tux.

Forget it. She wasn’t going. End of discussion. She wouldn’t fit in. She didn’t know anyone. And she had nothing appropriate to wear. Besides, Mads’ friends didn’t have a fond opinion of her, and she still wasn’t certain of their intentions toward her brother. It occurred to her as she went from the kitchen into the living room that there was only one way to find out: she had to go.
 

The thrift shop in Wolf Creek Bend might have something she could wear. If she could find something appropriate, she’d go. And if not, then she’d take it as a sign that she should stay away.

She showered quickly, dried her hair, then packed a bag with some makeup and toiletries. She threw in a change of clothes—not because she thought she’d stay over with Mads, but because she wanted to change out of her wedding clothes before driving back. She didn’t want the guys who sometimes manned the gates to know she’d been to the Feds’ wedding party.

It was almost 3:00 p.m. before she grabbed her purse and hurried out to her truck. Surely the thrift store would have something she could wear. If not, then that was that. She’d have to just turn around and come back; there was no time to get down to Laramie or Cheyenne and back before the wedding.

Her heart was pounding as she drove into town. She passed Ty’s house. A half-dozen trucks were parked out front. People were hurrying about with arms full of things for the wedding. She thought about calling Mads to let him know she’d changed her mind, but then decided to hold off. If she couldn’t find anything to wear, there was no way she was going to crash his friend’s wedding. As it was, she would already be too late to make the vows. She’d best wait and come in later, when the reception had started.

There were two secondhand shops in town, she discovered, but neither had any clothes or shoes. She must have looked as devastated as she felt. The cashier asked her, “Did you have something in particular you were looking for?”

“I have a wedding to go to. Had. I can’t go now.”

“Whose wedding? Someone around here?”

“Kit Bolanger’s.”

The girl gasped. Her eyes got huge. “You’re going to
their
wedding? You have to go!”

“No,” Hope said, trying to laugh. “I don’t have anything to wear.”

“Mavis at the teahouse has some fancy antique clothes. You might find something there.”

“Where’s the teahouse?”

“One block over, second house. I’ll call over there and let her know you’re coming. I know one of the regulars there. Her daughter and I are besties. I’d loan you something of mine, but it would just hang on you. My friend’s about your size.” She picked up the phone and dialed, then held the receiver and motioned for Hope to get going.

Hope stepped back outside, into the hot sun, wishing,
wishing
she’d just agreed to go with Mads. She could have made it if she’d gotten down to one of the bigger towns earlier in the day. She didn’t hold out much hope that she’d find anything at the teahouse, but she went to look anyway.

No one was at the front counter at the teahouse. A couple of tables were filled, but traffic was light that afternoon. The teahouse was actually a converted residence. The front counter was in what had once been a porch. She went farther back into the house. The first room on the right might have been a living room at one time, but it now showcased some antiques, tea paraphernalia, colorful teapots, and cups. Hanging here and there on the walls were antique ensembles and fancy dresses from twenty years ago. Nothing was in a size that she could wear—they were too large or too small.
 

Even outdated, if one had fit, she would have worn it.

Hope fought tears. It was insane to her that she wanted to go to this thing so badly now, when she’d all but talked herself out of it up until a couple of hours ago.

She turned to leave, but a woman’s voice stopped her. “Oh—there you are! Annabeth said you were headed over this way. Come with me.” She led Hope through one room over to another, passing a table of four middle-aged women. “This sweet girl has been invited to Ivy Banks’ wedding, but she has nothing to wear. So sorry to interrupt your tea. I just wanted to show her a couple more outfits we have in the Rose Room.”

Hope wanted to die. It wasn’t that she was poor. She wasn’t rich, but she could afford to buy a little something to wear. She just didn’t have time. The dresses hanging on padded silk hangers in the Rose Room were every bit as out of fashion as those in the other room—and like the others, none would fit her.