Brotherhood.
The kind of atmosphere I’ve lived in for most of my life.
But tonight?
Tonight it just pisses me off.
The clubhouse doors slam open behind me as I shove my way inside. The heavy sound echoes across the room, and the noise dips just slightly. Heads turn.
They always do.
Not out of curiosity.
Out of respect.
A few brothers glance up from their drinks. One prospect freezes mid-step, like he just realized he might be in the wrong place at the wrong time.
Prez walking in pissed never goes unnoticed.
I don’t slow down.
Don’t acknowledge anyone.
I head straight for the bar.
Brothers shift out of my path automatically. One prospect nearly trips over himself trying to move aside fast enough.
Good.
At the bar, I grab a beer straight from the cooler. The cold glass bites into my palm as I pop the cap off against the edge of the counter.
The sharp crack cuts through the noise.
Cold beer hits the back of my throat.
Bitter.
Exactly what I need.
Except it doesn’t help.
Because the second I stop moving…
She’s back in my head.
Emma.
That damn mouthy woman is going to be the death of me.
I lean against the bar, staring across the room while the chaos of the clubhouse rolls on around me. Her voice echoes in my head.
I am not yours.
My jaw tightens.
Jesus Christ.
Most people don’t even look me in the eye when they talk to me. Men twice her size don’t push back the way she does.
