Twist the Knife (Lost Kings MC #24)

“Please let me know if you need something,” I say. “Paul is also around, and my father is preparing things for?—”

“I know. I spoke to him.” Daniel cuts me off. “You’ll be there too, right?”

“Ah, no. I usually stay here to tidy up and help direct anyone who comes late.”

“Babe, let her do her job.” Danielle pats Daniel’s chest and fusses with his tie.

“I am. Margot has a way with the dead.” Daniel lets out an awkward chuckle.

My stomach clenches tight. Is he…making fun of me? Margot has a way with the dead, because she’s practically a corpse herself, har, har.

Get a grip. It’s his weird way of complimenting me.

Compliment or not, it feels crummy.

“Nice to meet you.” I nod at Danielle, then turn and hurry away from them.

I exit the viewing room and speed down the hallway into the kitchen. It’s empty for now. I dump the broken pieces of the vase in the trash, then lean against the counter. Hot tears well up in my eyes and I blink them away.

Why am I crying over him?

We’re over. I don’t even have feelings for him anymore. Not romantic ones, anyway. Bitter ones, I have plenty.

But he’s moved on. Danielle probably rides him like a rodeo queen and screams through every orgasm and I’m…stuck. Afraid to get intimate with anyone again.

What if there’s something wrong with me? I’ll be the freaky girl who lives in a funeral home forever.

What kind of person thinks about these things at a viewing? Shame slides through my chest. I should keep my thoughts focused on Mrs. O’Leary.

So that’s what I try to do for the rest of the afternoon.

CHAPTER SIX

Margot

Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.

“Noo. Dad. Why can’t you text like a normal person?” I groan and bury my head under my pillow.

Buzzzz.

Damn, maybe he needs me to go on a pick-up with him. We get calls all times of the day and night to pick up bodies. It’s my least favorite part of the business.

I roll out of bed, my feet tangling in the sheet. I fight my way free and hurry to the front door of my apartment on the top floor of the funeral home. I skid to a stop in front of the intercom and stab my thumb against the button.

“What’s up, Dad?” I ask.

“The bikers are on their way. Open up the crematorium for them, show them how to use it?—”

“Wait, what?” I practically screech. Everything about his deal with the bikers seems shady. But I assumed they were using our business to launder their dirty money. Using our crematorium in the middle of the night points to something much more sinister.

Dark curiosity twists through me. I take a breath and pretend to be more concerned than intrigued. “Are you sure that’s a good idea, Dad?”

“Just do it.” He hesitates and the intercom clicks off, then on again. “Don’t ask them questions and don’t get involved in…whatever it is. Just show them how it works. Don’t stray far though, in case they need something. And when they’re done, go through the cleanup with them. Make sure they take the ashes and…anything else when they go.”

How exactly am I supposed to force a bunch of bikers to do anything? But the time for questioning my father has long passed. “Okay, I can do that.”

“Thank you, Margot.” He sighs and the intercom goes dead again.