“Hey, aren’t you that biker guy whose old lady ran off?” he called out from across the bar. “Heard she got tired of sharing you with half the county.”
The entire bar went quiet. Every eye turned to me, waiting to see what the dangerous biker president would do.
What I should have done was walk away. What I should have done was remember that I was representing the club, that starting fights in public would bring heat we didn’t need. Instead, I put down my bottle and walked over to where Metallica t-shirt was sitting with his buddies.
“What’d you say?” I asked quietly.
“Nothing, man. Just heard through the grapevine that your woman got tired of—”
I didn’t let him finish. My fist connected with his jaw with a satisfying crack, and he went down like a sack of rocks. His friends jumped up, ready for a fight, and for a moment I was ready to give them one.
Then strong hands grabbed my arms, and I found myself being hauled toward the door by Colt and Holden.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” I demanded as they shoved me into the passenger seat of Holden’s truck.
“Glitch tracked your phone,” Colt said grimly. “Good thing, too, because you were about to start a war in there.”
“Asshole had it coming.”
“Maybe. But you’re the club prez, Dutch. You can’t go around beating up every drunk idiot who runs his mouth about your personal life.”
As we drove back to the clubhouse, I stared out the window at the passing streetlights and tried to figure out when everything had gone so wrong. Two weeks ago, I’d had it all—the respect of my brothers, a thriving club, and a woman who looked at me like I hung the fucking moon.
Now I had a missing woman who’d vanished without a trace, a bunch of brothers who thought it was okay to tell their prez what to do, and civilians who thought they could take the piss out of me in public. Everything was falling apart, and I was the common denominator.
Fuck my life.
Chapter 7
?
— Indira —
Some mornings I woke up reaching for Dutch before I remembered. This morning was one of those—my hand stretching across cold hotel sheets, my body betraying me before my mind caught up. The ache of that half-second before reality hit never got easier.
I threw myself into the Nashville apartment listings to drown it out. One bedroom, two bedroom, downtown, midtown. The choices felt overwhelming, but for the first time in weeks, I was making plans that stretched beyond “survive today.” Two weeks in Knoxville had turned into a month, and I was done just existing.
I closed the laptop and grabbed my jacket. Grind Coffee had become my second office—close enough to walk, busy enough to blend in, quiet enough to think. The espresso machine hissed steam as I settled into my usual corner with a latte and pumpkin muffin, pulling out my laptop for the afternoon video conference.
Then a familiar laugh cut through the café noise, and my blood turned to ice.
“I swear, Crystal told me the whole story. You should have seen her face when she walked in on him at his office...”
I knew that voice. Amber something, a friend of one of the club hangers-on who’d been at a few MC events. She was sittingwith two other women I didn’t recognize, but her voice carried across the coffee shop like she was announcing it to everyone.
“She just stood there like a deer in headlights,” Amber continued, clearly enjoying being the center of attention. “I mean, what did she expect? Dating a biker and thinking she’s the only woman he’s touching? Please.”
My jaw tightened. I could duck my head, try to slip out unnoticed. Or I could sit here and wait for the inevitable moment when Amber spotted me. I chose to stay, taking a deliberate sip of my coffee while I waited.
It didn’t take long.
“Oh my God.” Amber’s voice got louder. “Is that her?”
I looked up and met her stare directly, watching her mouth fall open in shock. The two women with her turned to look, and suddenly I felt like I was on display in a zoo.
“Holy shit, it is you!” Amber stood up, clearly planning to come over.
I sat back in my chair and watched her approach, my spine straightening with each step she took. I hadn’t done anything wrong. I had nothing to be ashamed of. Nothing except being naive enough to believe Dutch was faithful to me. And that wasn’t shame. That was a lesson learned.
