Page 59 of The Price of Love

I wanted Storm to enjoy the ride, so I didn’t tell her about the talk swirling in the club. She’ll be pissed when I spring it on her in front of Halo and Nails, but she’ll get over it. They need to know, too, so we can intervene before the rumors become folklore.

Despite riding slow, it ends too soon. We turn down the well-hidden path to the lodge. Wanting to keep people from being curious and exploring the lane, we’ve kept it primitive with only enough gravel to keep the mud from making passage impossible. Most of the girls don’t ride their bikes here for that reason, but Storm and I are stubborn, so we bump over the uneven ground. My tires skid underneath me, but I keep it steady. I’ve dropped my bike in the mud before, and I don’t recommend it.

Finally, we make it to the end of the quarter-mile lane, which empties into a small, paved parking lot. We’ve considered making improvements to the landscaping, but the gamblers say it adds to the ambiance. Leave it to the ultra-rich to think muddy lanes and overgrown trees create atmosphere.

Several cars and the Thorns’ moving van are sprinkled in the lot. During the winter, we store the gaming tables, furnishings, and decorations in case snowmobilers discover the lodge. While the lodge is private property, it doesn’t mean the winter thrill seekers stay on the cured paths, and we don’t need them tearing up the place.

This past week, the crew has worked on getting the Velvet Rose ready, but now that it’s coming down to the wire, it’s all hands on deck. We pull up near the front of the lot and kill our engines.

A flagstone path leads to the entrance. Despite the interior renovations, the outside of the lodge maintains its original rustic charm. We take two steps up onto the grand porch before we pull open the large wooden door.

A blast of warm air hits us as we enter.

“The fuck, they’re gonna blow up the generators,” Storm says. Being so far from civilization, there’s no electricity.

I shake my head. “It’s the fireplace. Didn’t you see the smoke when we rode up?”

“Hey,” Nails calls when she sees us. She’s stripped down to only her cut without a shirt underneath. “You’ll wanna take off your jackets.”

I glance around the room. More than a dozen patch sisters are cleaning the space. The warm wood ceiling, walls, and floor have been polished to a shine.

“What do you think?” Halo says as she walks up. She spreads her arms wide. “We’re about to bring everything in.”

“I can’t believe how many members you got to come clean,” Storm says. “Impressive.”

Halo and Nails exchange a glance.

“Uh, we want to talk to you about that,” Halo says. She motions to the staircase that leads to a small loft.

We follow Halo and Nails up the stairs and slip into the tiny office that’s barely big enough for the four of us. She motions Storm and me toward the chairs beside the desk and then sits behind it. Nails perches on the corner of the desk.

They both have serious expressions on their faces, so I brace for the worst.

“We were shocked by all the cleaning volunteers, too,” Nails says. “We shoulda known something was up.”

A crease lines Storm’s forehead. “What am I missing?”

“Everyone’s volunteering to clean because they don’t want to work the event,” Halo says. She taps on the spreadsheet lying on the desk. “To do it right, we need fifteen, but we can skate by with ten.” She holds up the sheet. “We have five.”

Storm takes the spreadsheet and studies it while Nails speaks.

“Normally, we have so many volunteers we have to turn them away. Tips are crazy good, so the girls take in some hefty bank,” Nails says. “This year, they want no part of it.”

I wave my hand. “I might have some insight.”

Storm drops the paper to her lap and looks at me with a furrowed brow. She’s not going to be happy I didn’t share this sooner, so I look at Nails when I speak. “Word is that the games are dangerous.”

“Dangerous? Are you fucking kidding me?” Nails says. “Where’s that trash coming from?”

“I’m wondering the same thing.” Storm’s voice has an edge to it. I’m sure some of it’s directed at me.

I’ll smooth her ruffled feathers later. Now they need to know what we’re up against. “Somebody’s been saying that the gamblers pack heat and that several girls have gone missing.”

“The fuck?” Storm says. “Who’s saying something so stupid?”

With Halo and Nails here, I won’t say Frost without any proof.

Turns out, I don’t have to because Nails says, “Probably fucking Frost. I don’t know what her problem is.”