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I hate that I’m not the one there to help Emily out, but I’m glad she’s not all by herself.
“Lincoln doing all right at their place?” I ask.
His mouth twitches into a fond smile. “Yeah. He’s got three girls fussin’ over him. He’s fine.”
“Figures.”
He slides his gaze over me. “The ceremony’s a suit and tie situation.”
“I kinda figured.” I stare at him. “Don’t ever doubt my respect for you, brother. Few people can get me into a suit.”
“Yeah.” He chuckles. “I feel the love.”
“Just let me know when and where you need me, and I’ll be there.”
“The ceremony…” He glances over his shoulder toward the clubhouse. “This is kind of what I wanted to discuss with Rock today. Don’t think it’s necessary to have the whole club there, you know?”
“Yeah, I don’t blame you.” I can’t picture Sparky sitting still through any kind of religious ceremony, no matter how informal. And no matter how loose this church might be I doubt Sparky’s thoughts on universal harmony will be appreciated.
“But we’ll have a party at our house for everyone afterward,” Grinder says.
“At your house?” From what I remember when we helped them move in, their place is an elegant home with at least one white-carpeted room. Not exactly a place for a bunch of rowdy bikers to party. “Why not the downstate clubhouse?”
“Brothers can go party at the clubhouse if they find our place too tame.” He flips his hand in a dismissive, gives-no-fucks way.
“Sounds good to me.” I’ve been to enough degenerate clubhouse parties to last me a lifetime.
“Gonna invite Griff and Remy too. You want to ask your niece and her man? They’ve got a son, right? Be nice for them to be around the club without it being a club event.”
My chest squeezes. Grinder’s only met Vapor once or twice and he hasn’t met Juliet at all. But he knows I’d like to bring them in closer to the club. “Appreciate that, brother. I’ll let them know.”
“Good.” He clasps my shoulder. “You doing all right otherwise?”
“Can’t complain. Got a contractor scheduled to come into Crystal Ball this afternoon.” I cock my head. “Have you even been by since you got out?”
His gray eyebrows draw down in annoyance. “The fuck I need to go there for?”
I shrug. “To see what we did with the place.”
The grumpy expression slides off his face. “Yeah, everyone says you’ve done a good job and run things right.”
“I just took over where Rock and Z left off. They’re the ones who fixed the place. It’s nothing like what it was before you went inside.”
“Well, thank fuck for that.” He chuckles. “Wrath says it’s not far from Furious?”
“Yeah.”
“All right. Next time I’m over there, I’ll text you. See if you’re around to give me a tour.”
“Sounds good.”
We shake hands and he continues over to the clubhouse.
What a scheming pair Serena and Grinder make. How did Emily take the news that we’ll be seeing a whole lot of each other very soon? Did it wake her the fuck up? Does she want to see me as much as I want to see her? Or is she trying to come up with an excuse to get out of being Link’s godmother?
No. Emily’s too good. Too loyal. She won’t do anything to disappoint Serena.
And I’m not missing the chance to hunt Emily down after the ceremony.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Dex
When I pull into Crystal Ball’s parking lot, Swan’s already waiting at the back door with two other women.
At least they’re taking it seriously. I half expected the girls to blow off this appointment and Swan to be here alone.
“Morning, Dex!” Swan lifts her hand to shield her eyes from the glare of the sun and waves. Her pale pink sweatshirt hangs off one shoulder and baggy jeans cover most of her platform sneakers, making her look more like a college student than a dancer.
“Hey. Were you waiting long?” I’m usually the first one here.
She holds up an almost full cup of iced coffee. “No.”
“Good.”
My gaze lands on the other two young women. I recognize both of them. Swan hired them but I handled their paperwork. For the life of me, I can’t remember which one is Porsche and which one is Pepper, though.
Swan gestures to one of the girls. She’s tall and slender. She steps forward and offers me her hand. Each movement is slow and graceful. Bet she has a ballet background like Swan. Her white-blonde hair falls in long waves to her waist. Besides her unsettling pale blue eyes, she has a face I’d call interesting more than beautiful.
“This is Porsche, I can’t remember if you met before,” Swan introduces.
“We did but it was brief,” Porsche says in a soft voice, barely audible above the road noise from the front of the building. Her accent’s hard to place. Southern, maybe? Georgia? With a hint of somewhere overseas.
