Twist the Knife (Lost Kings MC #24)

“After I graduated, passed my exams, and received my license, my father gave me the money to remodel the top floor,” she explains. “It was a bunch of old, dark, twisty rooms before that.”

“Nice graduation present.” Kinda feels like she built her own—really nice—prison. She lives at her job, with dead people downstairs!—but I keep those thoughts to myself.

Two doors are on my left and Margot slides them open, revealing a long, narrow coat closet. She shrugs off her sweater and hangs it on a hook inside.

Past the closet, and farther left, there’s a closed door that I assume is her bedroom. But the hallway continues, leading to two other closed doors.

She holds out her hand.

I stare at her.

She drops her hand. “You can hang that up in there if you want?” Her voice falters and she glances away.

I like Margot but I don’t know her well enough to allow her to handle my cut. “Thanks.” I slide it off, and hang it in the closet.

“Do you want something to drink?” She kicks off her shoes off and nudges them into a straight line next to several other pairs of sneakers and boots.

“Sure.”

She glides soundlessly into the kitchen. Almost like a little kid skating across the polished floors. Cute.

I lean down and unlace my boots, toe them off and line them on the other side of the closet doors.

Something in the refrigerator clinks as she opens the double doors and stares inside. “I don’t have beer or alcohol.”

Without my boots, I slide silently into the kitchen until I’m right behind her. “That’s okay.”

She jumps and turns. “You’re quick.” Her interested gaze runs over me. “And quiet.”

“For now.”

She blushes and turns toward the fridge again.

“The Saratoga water’s fine.” I nod at one of the blue glass bottles lined up in the door.

She turns and stares at me with wide, shocked eyes, like my request doesn’t compute. “Bikers drink mineral water?”

I snort. “I can’t speak for all bikers. But this biker does whatever the fuck he wants.” I reach past her and pluck one of the bottles free.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean…” She grabs a bottle of lime juice and another mineral water.

“Yeah, you did. It’s fine. You think we’re all beer-swilling cavemen, I get it.”

Her cheeks turn even redder. I should dial it back. Margot doesn’t seem to recognize when I’m teasing her.

She’ll learn.

I set the bottle on the counter and walk over to the sink. Pink hand soap that smells like flowers flows out of the dispenser. Better than nothing. I wash my hands quickly and grab a paper towel to dry them.

Margot watches intently, and pulls out a large, sliding drawer to reveal a garbage can.

“Grimy from touching all the cars.” I tap my fingers together in front of her face.

She laughs softly.

I ease into one of the chairs at the kitchen counter and uncap my water. Margot stands across from me, keeping the counter between us.

“Does your father come up here often?” I ask.