Nolan by Lane Hart, D.B. West

Chapter Twenty-Three

Nolan

“I’m going back to the club,” I tell the guys at the meeting table. “Oh, and then I’m getting married tonight.”

“What the fuck?”

The same version of the question is asked by all the Kings.

“First off, why are you going back to that shithole club?” Roman asks. “Because Rita’s staying and she won’t be safe with them alive?”

There’s no judgement in our president’s question, just curiosity.

“Yes, she’s staying. Mostly, though, I have to go back because I found out last night that…” I grind my teeth together, unable to find the words. Saying it aloud is like making it real. Even though I know it already is real for her. “I need to talk to some of the dancers and other waitresses to see if the Rebel Henchmen have been fucking them against their will.”

“Jesus, man,” Hugo says.

“Even your girl, Rita?” Verek asks.

I give a nod. “Someone did. More than one, if I had to guess. But Rita won’t give me any of their names.”

“It’s not much, but I can give you Tessa’s therapist name and number,” Verek replies. “It’ll be a start for her while we bust heads.”

“No,” I snap at him. “I mean, the therapist is fine, but I’m going alone for this part.”

“Like hell you are!” Abel declares.

“A group of us will draw too much attention,” I explain. “And I have a plan for how to explain the dead bodies I’ll leave behind.”

“Look,” Roman starts. “I understand not wanting to take the whole crew to the club or whatever, but any King who wants to come is coming.” When I open my mouth to protest, he holds up his palm to stop me. “We’ll scatter but at least stay in the area in case shit goes sideways. That won’t fuck up your plan, will it?”

“I guess not…”

“How confident are you that this plan of yours is going to work?” Winston asks.

“I’d say a seventy-percent chance it works out like I hope. If so, there won’t be any blowback on the Savage Kings. Not even a little. So, the less you know, the better.”

“Fine,” Roman agrees, and the rest of the men at the table nod their heads in agreement.

“Abel and I are going with you,” Hugo says. “We’ll do what you tell us to do, but you’re not going anywhere alone.”

“Okay,” I agree. “I think the prospects should stay with Rita, if you all think they can handle themselves.”

“I don’t see why not,” Roman agrees. “If we’re in Cape Cartwright keeping the Rebel Henchman busy, then she should be relatively safe back at the house, right?”

“Well, that’s the thing. She was going to go into town today and try to find a dress.”

“A wedding dress?” Cannon asks. “You’re serious about marrying a woman you just picked up two days ago?”

“Yeah, I am,” I answer, my tone not leaving any room for argument on that one.

“More power to you,” the twin says as he shakes his head. “Hell, Madison would probably love to go shopping with her. The woman’s had a wedding magazine hiding in her briefcase for weeks like she’s afraid I might freak if I see it. She doesn’t think I’ll ever pop the question. Just goes to show how much she knows – I had a ring made for her before the issue was released!”

“You’re joking,” Conrad, the other blond twin, asks, looking even more shocked when Cannon shakes his head. “So, when are you going to do it?”

The previously notorious playboy shrugs nonchalantly even while his fingers keep drumming nervously on the table. “I don’t know. Just waiting for the right moment.”

“Bullshit!” Conrad exclaims with a chuckle. “You’re nervous!”

“If she’s got the magazine, then she isn’t going to say no,” Verek tells him confidently.

“Yeah, I’m not worried about her saying yes,” Cannon explains. “I just think she’ll put the wedding off until the next mayoral election.”

“Holy shit!” Winston laughs. “You’re in a hurry to tie the knot too!”

“Whatever,” the twin huffs. “Not as big a hurry as Nolan apparently!”

“Hey, now, I’ve been waiting to be with this woman for over five years! It’s not just a spur-of-the-moment idea.”

“I get it,” Roman says. “It was that long before I ever got a chance to speak to Charlotte. I was already falling in love with her before we officially met; she just didn’t know it yet.” He grins at the memory before turning to me and saying, “I bet she would like the whole wedding gown shopping thing too, something to take her mind off the pile of negative pregnancy tests.”

“It’ll happen, man,” Winston tells our president. “You just gotta stop treating it like a military mission for a few weeks and stop stressing.”

“Jesus Christ,” Marcus grumbles, slumping down in his seat and pushing it away from the table. “The entire meeting has turned into all you pussy-whipped motherfuckers talking about women and babies. Can we get back to talking about the ass kicking before I grow a vagina too?”

Everyone laughs at him when no less than five middle fingers shoot up in his direction — no, make that six, since Winston gives him both hands because he’s got a kid and a wife now.

While there’s still so much bullshit still up in the air, I can’t help but feel lucky knowing that, as long as I survive the day, I’ve got an amazing woman to go home to tonight and every other night.