Page 36 of Property of Max
“However, if you’re in the Palm Springs area, come down to Casa Del Sol.” She smiles again, brighter this time, but I see the tremor in it.
“Who knows, you may even get one of Lila’s tables,” Gumphrey adds, his arm clamped around her shoulders like a damn chain. “Tip well, my friends. She’s a hard worker.”
“Bye.”
The video cuts out.
Silence slams into the room, thick and choking. I can still hear the echo of her laugh…brittle, hollow. My hands curl into fists against my knees, nails biting into my palms, because I knowthat sound. I’ve heard it before. Women laughing while they’re cornered. Smiling because they’re scared.
I bite down on the urge to put my fist through the wall. Or through someone’s face.
Because whatever that video showed, I know one thing for damn sure.
That wasn’t her laugh.
“Well,” Knuckles says. “There you have it. Told you she was lying. Fucking bitches always trying to gain sympathy.”
It takes everything in me not to come out of my chair. My hands curl into fists, my pulse pounding in my ears. But I don’t move. I can’t. I’m already on thin ice with this club. One wrong move, one wrong word, and I’ll be out the gate for good. It’s the only reason I kept my mouth shut when Lila was here, asking for help.
A sharpthwackcuts through the silence.
Knuckles jerks forward, rubbing the back of his head. A shoe lies on the floor behind him.
“What the hell?” He twists in his chair, scowling.
Sunny stands in the doorway, arms crossed, eyes blazing. Riley and Abby flank her, every inch of them radiating fury.
“Did you just hit me?” Knuckles demands, disbelief dripping from his voice.
Sunny bends, slips off her other shoe, and hurls it at him. This time, he catches it midair, teeth bared.
“Control your woman, brother,” he snaps at Bones.
But the second his eyes flick away, something else smacks into him…a baby bottle. Milk splatters down his cut. Riley glares at him, Asher balanced on her hip like a little general commanding an army.
Knuckles lurches to his feet. “What the fuck? If anyone throws one more thing…”
A pair of sunglasses bounces off his shoulder. Abby smirks, hand still raised.
“That’s it,” Knuckles snarls, taking a step forward.
“It wouldn’t be a very wise idea to threaten those women,” Maverick says coolly, nodding toward Spike, Bones, and Tank.
All three men are already on their feet, shoulders squared, eyes locked on Knuckles like wolves circling prey.
The room holds its breath.
And for the first time since that cursed video played, I feel my lips twitch. Because Knuckles might not realize it yet, but he’s already lost.
Spike doesn’t say a word. He doesn’t have to. One hard glare, and Knuckles drops back into his seat. The others follow, the scrape of chairs loud in the silence.
“What’s your plan?” Riley asks, her voice steady, her eyes locked on her husband.
Spike leans back, trying for casual. “Talking to me again, huh? Don’t have one.”
“Wrong answer.”
All three women turn in unison and walk out the door without another word.
