by Emma Slate
He let me down and I bolted for the clubhouse, wanting to forget what I’d just seen.
Women from the party had finally begun to stir. They were too hungover to peer at me with much interest as they began slithering into their microscopic clothes. There was no chatter or greetings. They grabbed their belongings and stumbled toward the exit. When the clubhouse was finally quiet, I looked around at the mess, hating the disorder. I sprung into action immediately and began to clean up.
When the living room was spotless, I tackled the kitchen. After an hour, Colt and his brothers walked into the clubhouse. They looked around the living room and into the open kitchen, their faces shifting from subdued to confused.
“It’s clean in here,” Reap said. “It wasn’t clean when we left.”
“I needed something to do,” I said with a shrug.
“And now you’re cooking?” Boxer asked, his face slack in amazement.
“Bacon and fried eggs. Is that okay with everyone? It’s all I can really manage with my wrist.”
There was a round of nods and murmurs.
Boxer looked at Colt. “If you don’t officially make her your Old Lady, I call dibs.”
Colt glared at him.
Boxer held up his hands. “Never mind. I don’t want to get my ass pistol whipped.”
The oven timer dinged and I removed the bacon. Before long, everyone had a plate and they were devouring their food.
“Have you eaten yet?” Colt asked me, his hand reaching out to push a strand of hair behind my ear.
“Just coffee. I’m not hungry.”
His hand slid down my body to rest on my hip. “You’re too thin as it is.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Too thin? I thought men liked thin.”
Colt leaned in and said, “Men like tits and ass.”
“You wouldn’t be trying to distract me from the Richie thing, would you?”
“Is it working?”
I picked up my cup of coffee and didn’t answer. I didn’t want to know what they’d done with him or how they were handling it.
His brown gaze was steady. “Let’s go for a drive.”
Thanks were called out as Colt and I left. I stepped out into the sunshine. I looked around, expecting to find danger at my back, but there was nothing except the clubhouse on a stretch of wide-open land.
Colt opened the passenger door of his truck for me and I scrambled inside. He shut the door and then went around to the driver’s side. He started the engine and then we were driving through the open gate, past the guarding prospects who were now awake and on duty.
“Give it to me straight, Colt,” I said, looking out the window.
“Sure you can handle it?”
“No.”
He was quiet and then, “You saw the burns on Richie’s chest, yeah? It was the Iron Horsemen logo.”
A surge of bile swam in my belly. “He was tortured—before they killed him?”
“Yes,” he said with a sigh. “And they dumped him on Blue Angel territory. It’s a message for us…and for you.”
“So they know, then? Dev knows I came to you?
“He knows,” he said. “Your truck has been parked at the Blue Angels garage for the past week.”
“You lied to me this whole time? You told me it was still at my house…”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because I knew you’d want to leave town the moment you got your truck back.”
“Damn right.”
Colt’s face was grim. “Why is Dev after you even though you know nothing about what Richie was up to? Any way you cut it, Dev thinks you’re involved.”
I cleared my throat. “It might be more than that…”
When I paused, Colt said, “Go on.”
“He made no secret about wanting me in his bed.”
His jaw clenched. “Not shocked by that at all, but I don’t think Dev would do this for that reason. There’s more to it. I’m telling you, he thinks Richie clued you in.”
“I overheard them talking,” I said slowly, remembering the night I’d first met Dev. “Dev asked Richie if I knew anything about their arrangement, and Richie said no. They were talking business, something about a shipment. Richie disappeared for a few nights and then resurfaced and asked me to take him to the bus depot.”
“Ah, fuck. You definitely can’t leave town now. Not until all this shit is sorted. He’ll just come after you.”
“You had my truck this whole time,” I murmured. “I could’ve gotten out. I could’ve started a new life.”
“Tell yourself that if you want,” he rumbled. “But you don’t know Dev like I know Dev.”
“You know Dev?”
“Yeah.” He paused, like he wanted to say more.
“Go on. You can tell me.”
He shot me a look of dark amusement. “You’re already mad at me. Like I want to give you more ammo?”
“I’m not mad,” I said slowly.
“Liar.”
“Fine. I’m mad. You could’ve helped me get out of town as soon as you got my truck. Why didn’t you?”
“Dev would’ve found you. Just like he found Richie, but this is deeper than you running from Dev. The Iron Horsemen came for you in the middle of the night. When you told me that, I realized something’s been going on in my own backyard. I’m gonna find out what it is.”
I looked out the window to get away from his intense stare. “You still didn’t tell me about you knowing Dev.”
“We’ve had sit downs in the past. Hashing out territory disputes, that sort of thing. But we avoid each other. Our clubs don’t get involved in each other’s shit. Until you.”
“Until me? Why?”
He was silent for a long moment, long enough for us to drive into a restaurant parking lot.
Colt looked at me, his hands resting on the steering wheel. “Because you made it personal.”
“Am I supposed to be flattered?”
“Take it however you want. The Blue Angels and the Iron Horsemen weren’t enemies. Not until now. But if Richie’s ass isn’t enough and they come after you…then they’ll start a war. I told you I’d keep you safe, and I meant it.”
“Even if that means never letting me go?”
His gaze softened. “Yeah, darlin’. Even if that means never letting you go.”
When I turned away from him, his hand gently reached out to grasp my chin and forced my gaze to his.
“If you really wanted to leave Waco, you would’ve demanded it. You would’ve kicked and screamed, you would’ve begged. You would’ve offered to trade in your piece of shit truck for a fucking Honda—something you can drive with a busted wrist. But you didn’t, did you? You put up the bare minimum fight. You know why?”
Mutely, I shook my head.
He leaned forward and brushed his lips against mine. “Because you don’t really want to run. And I make you feel something. Just like you make me feel something. So blame me if you want, but I know the truth. I know you want to stay. I know you want a home.”
His eyes bored into mine, daring me to dispute his statement. But the truth was, Colt saw past my words, past my weak arguments, and deep down he knew what I really needed.
He was giving me a way out. He’d shoulder the burden and say he’d made the choice for me.
But I was done hiding from life.
I was done living inside a box that constrained me and held nothing but misery. I reached out to stroke his cheek. He needed a shave. Colt always needed a shave.
“Why are we stopping here?” I asked.
He smiled as he turned his head to kiss my palm. “Best Mexican food in the city.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“Best margaritas in the city too. Trust me, you’ll need tequila for this conversation.”
It was just past noon and all I’d had was coffee.
Coffee and fear.
The adrenaline dump and stress had drained me, and it took all of my willpo
wer to climb out of Colt’s truck. It felt safe there, and I knew the moment we sat down at the restaurant Colt wasn’t going to hold anything back.
He took my hand and led me inside. I salivated immediately at the smell of tortillas and sizzling meat. A wave of hunger hit me hard and I wondered how I could possibly want to eat after what I’d just seen.
We followed the hostess to a booth and Colt took the seat across from me. “I’ll have a Dos Equis,” he said with a smile, refusing the menu from the waitress. “She’ll have a margarita on the rocks with salt and the cheese enchiladas.”
I glared at him, but didn’t protest.
The cute, curvy waitress eyed Colt one last time before disappearing. Maybe at another time I would’ve felt a spark of jealousy, but I’d had his fingers inside of me not even two hours ago. Not to mention Colt didn’t even spare her a glance.
It was the little things, I realized, that proved someone wasn’t full of shit. Colt told me I didn’t need to worry about him and other women, and I believed him. Not just because he’d told me to trust him, but because of that small action. It was like he didn’t even see her.
A few minutes later, the waitress returned with our drinks and a bowl of chips and salsa. I took a sip of the margarita. It was the perfect blend of tart and sweet and I couldn’t taste the tequila.
“Wow, yeah, this is dangerous,” I said to him.
“Yup.”
I set it aside and took a chip but didn’t eat it.
A glimpse of Richie’s burned corpse flashed before my eyes. “I don’t understand something,” I began.
He took a sip from his beer and waited for me to continue.
“Why did you come to Dive Bar with Zip that night? I’ve never seen bikers at Dive Bar. Did you have a hunch that Richie was into shady shit? Were you there to see if Dev showed up?”
“No. Like I said before: it was coincidence. You think I’d be beating the fuck out of some guy in the alley if I was there for Dev?”
“What do you think Richie got involved in?” I asked.
“Meth.”
“Why do you think it’s meth?”
“Look, biker clubs don’t get donations from church ladies and PTA moms. But they have to make money. That’s how their members take care of their families and the clubs keep operating. It’s complicated, but meth can be made in a homemade lab. You don’t need land in Columbia to grow crops or the cartels in Mexico to traffic shit from other countries through South America for you, and meth is highly addictive, so it’s an obvious thing for clubs to get involved in. You cook enough of that shit up in a lab with the muscle to protect it, and once it hits the street it’s an almost immediate return of pallets of cold, hard cash.”
I quickly downed the rest of my margarita, feeling my head grow buzzy. But it also gave me courage to ask him point blank, “What do the Blue Angels do for money?”
He stared at me long and hard. “I can’t tell you that. It’s for your own protection.”
“From the law, you mean?” I asked.
He nodded. “We don’t involve our women in our business. If cops get wind of something and question our women, they don’t know shit. None of them, and I mean that. Not one. It’s as much for their protection as it is ours. But make no mistake, the Blue Angels don’t live within the confines of the law.”
My breath hitched. I knew they were criminals—I knew I was falling for a criminal, but for Colt to admit it outright had me spinning.
The waitress sailed by with my steaming plate of enchiladas. Despite what we were discussing, my stomach rumbled in anticipation. She set the plate down in front of me.
“Another marg?” she asked me.
I shook my head.
“Another beer, sugar?” she asked Colt.
His eyes remained on me when he replied, “I’m fine, thanks.”
She wasn’t able to hold in her remorseful sigh. “Enjoy.” She left again, leaving us alone.
I picked up my fork and cut into the blue corn enchiladas. They were too hot to eat, so I waited.
“What’s going on in your head,” Colt asked.
“I’m trying to process what you just told me.”
He looked down at his hands. They were big, scarred, tatted. They’d gently cleaned my feet and brought my body to the heights of pleasure. But they were the hands of a delinquent.
“I’m president of the club, right?”
I nodded.
“I’ve got responsibilities. I shoulder the burdens. The choices I make—some of them are gonna weigh me down. There will be times I come to you. Times in the middle of the night when I gotta sink inside you, to get some of that light in a world of dark. I’m gonna need to turn to you in a way that a hard as fuck man turns to a woman. You won’t always understand and you won’t get answers. But I gotta know if it’s something you think you can handle. For the long haul. Because I’m in this. And I want to be in this with you. Not just because Dev is on your ass and your boss showed up dead. I’ve wanted you since that first night at Dive Bar and if shit had been different, I would’ve come back and let you know.”
“Why didn’t you?” I asked, feeling the tequila buzz through my blood, making me heated.
“Was on a run out of town,” he explained. “I got back a few hours before you showed up on my garage steps. Didn’t like what I saw. Thought someone had put their hands on you.”
A slight smile appeared on my lips. “I wouldn’t stand for that, Colt.”
“Yeah.” He grinned. “I know that now. You’re feisty.”
“Does it ever get any easier?” I asked him.
“Does what ever get easier?”
“Knowing the people you love are in constant danger because of who you are and the life you’ve chosen to live?”
“I grew up this way. Grew up knowing what the Blue Angels were all about. It’s different for you.”
The blue corn enchiladas were finally cool enough to eat and my fork fell on them with purpose.
“Women and children are off limits,” he said when I’d put away half the plate and finally had to stop for breath.
“What do you mean?”
“There’s an honor code of sorts. Clubs don’t go after Old Ladies or kids. The innocents stay innocent. That’s how we avoid total war between clubs. Shit can get settled between men, but no one fucks with family.”
“So theoretically, if I became your Old Lady, I’d be off limits?”
“Yup. Becoming an Old Lady is serious shit, Mia. To the brothers, it’s more binding than marriage. Marriage is a piece of paper. Marriage is an institution created by society that can be dissolved. Becoming an Old Lady is a way of life, so you gotta make sure you’re ready for it before you commit.”
I couldn’t eat another bite. I’d left a quarter of the enchiladas on the plate, which I pushed away. The moment I signaled I was done, Colt took my fork and ate the rest of my food.
The waitress came by and dropped off the check before flouncing back to the bar where she not so secretly watched Colt. He reached for his wallet and took out a few crisp bills.
It made me wonder if the money had come from his garage or from his criminal enterprises.
Shelly had warned me to stay away from motorcycle clubs. Colt might’ve been a criminal, but what did that say about me—the woman who was deciding whether or not to be with him?
I’d directly benefit from Colt’s business. I’d be taken care of financially, I wouldn’t have to worry about little luxuries, and I knew he wanted to pay for my last semester of college.
Colt could protect me, take care of me.
“Shoulda ordered you another margarita,” he muttered. “I can hear you thinking.”
“You can’t hear a person think,” I said with a dry laugh.
“All your thoughts are flashing across your face like a movie reel. I know what you’re thinking.”
“What am I thinking right this moment?” I taunted.
“You’re thinking about
how much you want me inside you.”
My eyes widened.
He grinned wickedly. “Have you ever been on a motorcycle?” he asked, changing the subject.
“No.”
“When your wrist is healed, I’m gonna get you on the back of my bike. There’s nothing like it, feels like you’re flying. Feels like freedom. I’ll take you to one of my favorite places. A tiny little town off the Oregon coast. We’ll rent side-by-sides and drive down to the beach and then watch the sunset.”
He took my hand that rested on the table and traced my ring finger. “I’ll take you back to a bed and breakfast I know. It’s a place that if you leave the windows open, you can smell the mist from the ocean. I’ll slide into you, Mia, and stay there until dawn.”
I swallowed at the shot of desire between my thighs.
“You’re not fighting fair,” I murmured.
“Who said anything about fair? You want me, yeah?”
“Yeah. I want you,” I admitted. “What about marriage?”
“What about marriage?”
“You called it an institution. A piece of paper.”
“It is,” he insisted. “But I’d still marry you. If you become my Old Lady you get the protection of my club. Then you become my wife and you’ve got the protection of my last name and the fact that you can’t legally be forced to testify against your husband in court if it ever comes to that.”
Practical as well as decisive. That was Colt. When he knew what he wanted, he went after it. But he thought things through. Wasn’t going to get caught up in emotion and let it rule him.
I was suddenly exhausted. It was like I’d been constantly swimming upstream, trying to get away from Colt and all that he made me feel. Trying to get away from Dev and the blanket of terror he’d thrown over my life.
I hadn’t even slept with Colt yet. Only this morning had things escalated to a physical level—and the man had been right. Not arrogant, just right. When I was in his bed, I wanted to stay there and I hadn’t even had him the way I wanted him.
“Let’s get out of here,” he rasped.
We got back to Colt’s house and it felt like I’d come home. Pairs of my shoes were by the door, haphazardly strewn like I’d kicked them off in haste.
My brain went into overdrive. There was a problem with overthinking just like there was a problem with following emotions. Unfortunately that meant I lived in a weird state of limbo.
