I felt vindicated for half a second before Glitch’s quiet voice cut through from his laptop. “Maybe that’s the problem. Maybe she needed it to be her business.”
I felt my face getting hot. “She knew what she was signing up for when she got involved with me. I never lied about who I was.”
“Actually,” Glitch continued, not looking up, “you kind of did.”
“The fuck is that supposed to mean?”
“You added her to the approved visitors list. Started talking about taking trips together, maybe having her move in. You were acting like a man ready to make her his old lady, but you were still fucking around like a single man.”
“I never said I was making her my old lady.”
Guilt twisted in my gut as I thought about the cut sitting in my office safe. I’d been planning to give it to her at the next club party. The silver and black leather with “Property of Dutch” embroidered across the back. Proof that Ihadbeen thinking about claiming her, even while I was balls-deep in Crystal. Had been thinking about it since the day I first laid eyes on my woman.
Holden shot me a knowing look—he’d been with me when I’d picked it up from the leather shop.
“You didn’t have to say it,” Glitch said, still not looking up from his laptop. “Actions speak louder than words, Prez. And your actions were saying one thing while your dick was saying another.”
The rage that had been building all week finally exploded. I stalked over to Glitch and slammed my hand down on the bar next to his laptop, making him flinch. “Watch your fucking mouth.”
Glitch’s fingers stilled on the keyboard, but he didn’t look up. His voice was quiet, almost too quiet. “Maybe she wouldn’t have left if you’d treated her right.”
I leaned in closer, my voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “What did you say?”
Glitch’s jaw tightened, but he still didn’t look up. “Nothing, Prez.”
“Dutch.” Holden’s voice cut through my fury. “Step back. He’s not wrong.”
I straightened up, my chest heaving. “You’re all supposed to have my back.”
“We do have your back,” Colt said. “That’s why we’re telling you this. Because watching you destroy yourself over a woman who’s clearly done with you isn’t doing anyone any good.”
“She’s not done with me.”
“Then where is she?” Glitch asked. “If she’s just cooling off, why won’t she answer your calls? Why did she turn off her phone?”
I didn’t have answers for any of those questions, and that annoyed me more than I wanted to admit.
“Maybe,” Holden said quietly, “you should ask yourself what you’re really fighting for here. Are you trying to get Indira back because you love her, or because you can’t stand that she walked away from you?”
I’d been telling myself this was about not giving up on what we had. But if I was honest—really honest—a big part of my obsession was about the fact that no one had ever left me before. Women didn’t walk away from Dutch Van Der Berg, President of the Venom Riders MC. They threw themselves at me. I was the one who decided when relationships ended.
But underneath all that wounded pride was something I didn’t want to name—the ache of missing her laugh, the way she’d steal my coffee every morning, the heat of her curled against me at night.
“I need a drink,” I muttered.
“You need food and sleep,” Holden said. “And maybe a shower.”
“I need a fucking drink.”
My hands were shaking. Not from the booze. From something worse.
I grabbed a bottle of Jack from behind the bar and headed for the door. Behind me, I could hear the low murmur of my brothers discussing what to do about their train wreck of a prez. Let them talk. I had more important things to worry about.
Like figuring out how to find a woman who didn’t want to be found.
The Rusty Nail was exactly what I needed—sticky floors, blown-out speakers, neon beer signs casting everything in sick red light. I found a corner booth with cracked vinyl seats and settled in with my bottle, determined to drink until the constant ache in my chest went away.
Three hours later, I was well on my way to accomplishing that goal when some asshole in a Metallica t-shirt decided to make my night worse.
