“Let’s go.” Hawk ordering us to leave first was a sign of weakness, and based on the way everyone looked at me, I was the reason.
Yeah, okay. I’d gone a little psycho.
Prick deserved it. No one talked about Callie and got away with it.
That kind of thinking was why I’d left after sleeping with her. She got under my skin way too easy.
“Keep walking.” Diesel stuck to my side but didn’t touch me.
Hell, the fact he said more than one sentence meant I’d rattled him.
I swung onto my bike, refusing to acknowledge any of the looks shooting my way, and rode point all the way home.
Hawk waited until we parked beneath the big oak to pin me in place with a black look. “You left the line.” He shook his headbefore I could argue. “You left the line and you put us at risk. We can’t afford your ego, Colt.”
My hands fisted around the handlebars, his words gutting me with an angry kind of hurt because I knew he was right.
I nodded once, the movement clipped. “Understood.”
News of my encounter swirled around the clubhouse before I made it to the door.
I heard the story repeated, with embellishment, as I walked up the stairs and into the house.
I bypassed the main living area and headed straight to the corner where we kept a first aid kit.
The wooden chair groaned when I sat, and I hissed through clenched teeth when I pulled the torn shirt away from my skin.
Hawk eyed me from the middle of the room, Diesel at his side.
Diesel lowered his head and said something that Hawk agreed to with a nod.
Probably something about overreacting or some shit.
What did I care?
Movement to the left gave way to Callie pushing her way through the crowd.
Her wide eyes landed on me, and she plowed forward, knocking a couple guys aside without so much as an apology.
I tried to ignore her, but it was like trying to ignore gravity.
She was just there, and then she was beside me, her hands on my ribs and her face inches from mine. “What the hell did you do?”
“Didn’t do this to myself.” I grabbed a bottle of water and splashed it onto a bandage, ready to slap it in place and go on my way.
Callie batted my hands to the side. “Stop. Let me.” She tossed my makeshift bandage in the trash, picked up the antiseptic and gauze, and cleaned the gash. “It’s not too deep. You might need a few stitches.”
“I’m fine.”
Her eyebrows shot up at my tone, and she poked a little harder than strictly necessary on a tender spot right above the deepest part of the cut. “You’re right. Nothing wrong with letting a cut that’s too deep heal on its own. Not like there’s anything here to protect.” She swiped alcohol over the cut and ripped open a clean bandage with shaking hands. “You can’t keep taking risks like this and acting like you have nothing to lose.” She placed the bandage and smoothed the edges over my ribs.
The hell I did. “And what do I have that’s worth anything? Maybe I don’t have a damned thing.” I shoved the words at her, intending to use them to cut through whatever this thing was between us.
I grabbed her wrist despite my words, the push/pull of needing her close while desperate to push her away stirred acid in my gut.
Hawk and Diesel continued to watch.
Every eye in the house turned our way.
