THIRTY-EIGHT

Mel

I can’t say Hooch was too impressed when I phoned to let him know I’d be staying a little longer in Lincoln with Dog, but I think he also knew there wasn’t much he could do about it.

“You better not be up to no good,” he’d said. But considering he left his disapproval at that, I’m hoping he’ll come around to the idea soon.

Didn’t drop the ‘L’ word, though—thought telling him the depth of my feelings for the guy might be pushing the boundaries a bit far.

“What time is the call?”

Dog twists the bottle of beer before him around on its coaster. “Three.”

I thought maybe a trip to the bar in town might lighten him up, give him a distraction if we weren’t twiddling our thumbs at the clubhouse. But all he’s done is sit in relative silence, lost in his thoughts.

“You know what they’re going to ask you yet?”

He nods. “Stuff about his assets, his attitude toward money. They’re fishin’ for me to tell them that he seemed to spend up large, never have any debt or struggles. But shit, the old man’s loaded. What’s that goin’ to prove?”

“I guess your dad’s worried you’re going to glam it up and make out he threw money around recklessly, though. Tell them you don’t know where he got it from, or that he’d lie to you bout how he bought things.”

“He’s worried I’m goin’ to lie and say he told me he was guilty.”

“How can you do that when you don’t know the specifics of the case?” I reach for the pitcher of ice water and pour myself another.

“Exactly.” Dog runs a hand through his hair, sighing as he drops his head. “I spoke to King about it last night.”

“Wondered where you went.” After he made sure I understood just how much he appreciates me, and not only my body, I fell asleep, only to wake later and find the bed empty.

“Didn’t want to wake you, babe.” He leans over and gives me a quick kiss on the cheek. “You looked too fuckin’ adorable all wrapped up in the blankets.”

“Wake me up next time, huh? If something bothers you, I want to be able to help.”

“Yeah, okay.”

“So what did he say about it, anyway?”

Dog takes a pull of his beer, setting it down before he answers. “He suggested I go see Lorelle and see what she wants me to do.”

“Lorelle?” I tamp down the uncalled for jealousy that surges through me.

“My brother’s wife.”

“Oh. She’s not all that likely to suggest you make sure he gets put away though, is she?” Why would a wife do that to her husband?

“They got married out of convenience. There isn’t a lot of love between them.”

Still …

“He’ll know you’ve spoken to her, though, won’t he?”

Dog finishes his bottle and then slides it across the table. “Not if we do it right.”

“We?”

“Lawyer’s office said when they gave me the time for the video call, that they were tied up in consultation with him until lunch.”

“We?” I repeat.

He matches my stare with a frown. “Yeah. Why not?”

“I’ve never met her.” If I thought my tight jeans and slashed tank made me uncomfortable when I first got back to the club, then they sure as hell make me feel inadequate now. “What will she think if you turn up with me? She’ll probably think we’re there to bully her into something.”

“Hardly.” He shakes his head. “She’s laid up in the hospital at the moment, so I doubt she’d think we’d try anythin’ tricky with her.”

Sure enough, less than an hour later I find myself walking through the entrance of St. Elizabeth, praying above all else that this goes well. We’ve got less than thirty minutes before visiting hours are over, and we’d have to come back after lunch taking a gamble that Dog’s brother didn’t show.

“I feel really uncomfortable about this. Maybe I’ll just wait out front.” I stop walking, ready to run back, but Dog grabs me by the wrist and yanks me along.

“Don’t start pullin’ that self-doubt shit now, woman. I need you there.”

“Why?”

“Because otherwise I’d rethink this whole idea and just get the asshole locked away for a while to teach him a lesson.”

Damn it. “Fine, but we have to be quick.”

“I know.”

He talks to a lady at the reception desk, who directs us to the correct ward, and after the same conversation with the woman at the ward desk, we end up outside a private room at the far end of the corridor.

“Last chance,” I whisper, hoping he’ll reconsider this and just do what he feels is right.

Then again … that didn’t seem all that great of an option.

“Come meet one of the wealthiest women in the state,” he mutters before pushing the door open and literally dragging me in behind him.

I hang back as best I can considering his hand is still tightly around my wrist, using Dog’s shoulder as a kind of blockade from the petite woman in the bed. She’s stunning in her simplicity.

Blonde hair fans around her head on the pillow, her eyes lacking emotion as she turns her head our way.

“Koen.” She seems genuinely surprised, as though he’s the last person she expected to see.

“Lorelle.” Dog drops my wrist, moving to stand at the end of the bed.

She shuffles up using her elbows, righting the sheet so it sits across her chest, tucked under her arms. “Why are you here?”

“Had a friendly request from the lawyer to speak with them about Derek.”

Her face falls, her head turning toward the window as her gaze drifts to the surrounding grounds. “Oh, that.”

“Yeah.”

I find a vacant seat in the far corner and move across to it. Lorelle spots me as I cross the room, as though seeing me for the first time.

“Who’s that?” She lifts a slim arm and points my way.

“My girlfriend, Mel,” Dog answers.

I cling on to the fuzzies being introduced as his girlfriend gives me, and offer a small wave. “Hi.”

“Rollan thinks I’ll throw Derek under the bus,” Dog continues, making the most of our short time here. “I want to know what you think I should say when they ask me if I think he could be capable of fraud.”

“Say what you like,” Lorelle murmurs. “I don’t care.”

I can’t help but frown as I watch this woman visibly shut herself off from the people in the room with her. She sinks into her pillows, eyes on the trees outside as she blatantly ignores Dog.

He appears to pick up on the shift also. “You realize he’ll get jail time. His reputation will be destroyed.”

“Good,” is the only response she offers.

I rise from the chair, touching Dog on the arm as I move to the side of her bed so she’s forced to look at me. “Hi, Lorelle.”

“You already said that,” she snaps.

Okay … “Do—Koen’s had a real hard time trying to decide what’s best to do. He really hoped you’d help with that.”

“Seems ridiculous if you ask me.” Her sharp blue eyes snap to mine. “He wants my advice whether he should tell the truth or lie.”

“Come on, Mel,” Dog snaps as he heads for the door. “Save your breath.”

I ignore him, choosing to continue eyeballing Lorelle instead. “Why are you here?” Dog never told me her reason for being in the hospital, just that she was.

“She tried to top herself,” Dog answers.

I flash him a glare to let him know I’m not impressed with his cold-as-fuck reply. “I’d like to hear Lorelle answer me.”

His sister-in-law nods when I look back to her. “He’s right, sort of.”

I frown, tucking my chin to my chest. “Sort of?”

“I could have died, yes, but I didn’t do it to myself.” She stares right at Dog.

“What?” Dog steps further into the room again.

Lorelle looks around Dog, as though expecting somebody else to walk in. “Your dad told me not to say anything.”

“Fuck him.” Dog steps beside me, leaning a little toward Lorelle. “What happened?”

Her eyes roll up and she shakes her head rapidly while sucking in a deep breath. “What can you do?”

“Try me.”

“Why did Rollan ask you to keep quiet?” I try for a different tactic.

It seems to work. “He said it would jeopardize Derek’s chances.”

Dog simply has to lift his eyebrows, and it seems all the coaxing she needs to get the weight off her chest.

“When we were advised of the charges, when the IRS returned the outcome of their audit, he lost it.” She snorts. “You’d think he would be upset at the prospect of being tried and found guilty, right?”

“Sure,” I say.

“Well, he was mostly mad because it meant he’d lost the cash flow for his habit.”

“He a user?” Dog asks.

Lorelle shakes her head. “Nope. He’s a gambler.”

“How much?” he asks.

“It’s irrelevant,” Lorelle answers. “But it was a lot. I overheard him asking for the buy-in figure once. It was six figures.”

“Damn.” Dog steps away, running a hand over his throat. “How does that put you here, though?”

“Guess who he took that frustration out on,” she says with a bitter laugh. “Didn’t help that I’d told him the same morning I wanted a divorce.”

“So he hurt you?” I ask.

She nods, reaching to peel back the sleeve of the robe she wears. Bandages cover her left forearm. “He wrestled the knife I was using off me, and cut me in the process. I panicked, told him to call an ambulance, but he called Rollan instead.” She shakes her head in disbelief. “I bled for a full hour before they finally called for help. The bastards concocted the story first, blackmailed me into sticking to it.”

“How?” Dog asks. “What do they have over you?”

“The truth about who my father is.” Her eyes move between the two of us. “You probably don’t get it, but if they made public my father is a convicted felon, it would ruin my standing in our social circles. I wouldn’t be able to show my face anywhere.”

I might not know firsthand what that’s like, but I get the struggle to be somebody of status.

“So you can see,” she continues, “why I don’t care what you say about him. If he goes to jail, well that’s where he belongs if you ask me. Your brother,” she says to Dog, “is a horrible man.”

He opens his mouth to respond, yet a nurse pops her head through the door and interrupts. “I’m sorry, but visiting hours are over now.”

“Thank you,” I offer, moving toward Dog. “We’re on our way.”

She leaves the three of us and carries on down the corridor.

Dog draws a deep breath and gives Lorelle a tight nod. “I’m sorry they did that to you.”

She shrugs, a sad smile on her lips. “It’ll work itself out, I’m sure.”

Without knowing what else to say, we take our leave and head out to the elevators. As the number flicks from the first floor to the floor below, I turn to Dog and ask, “What are you going to do?”

He stares at the closed doors with a frown. “I don’t know. I feel like I should say what they did to her, but she seems to want to go along with it.”

I reach out and slip my hand in his, resting my head against his arm. “Whatever you choose, I’m sure it’ll be the right decision.”

And I fully believe that. This man has a heart of gold and only the best intentions for those around him. As tempting as it would be to lie out of spite for how his family has treated him, I don’t think he would do that.

He said he wanted me here as moral support to make sure he did the right thing. But to be honest, I think he was going to do it anyway.

Because that’s just who he is: caring to the core.