“Slade,” I answered.
“The psycho President of the Steel Titans Motorcycle Club, huh? What about that son of a bitch?”
“Tasha,” I warned. She knew it pissed me off when she disrespected Prez right to my fucking face.
She slumped back against her chair, looking me up and down. “If you’re on an errand for him, why aren’t you in club colors? No cut, just your leather jacket, and not the one with the MC crest on it either. Are you sure you’re not covering?”
“What?”
She flashed me a sexy look. “Sure you’re not here just to see me, Tiger?”
“Real sure, Firecracker,” I threw back at her, retaliating with my own nickname for her. “I’m out of club colors to keep shit on the down-low. Nik Stone always has eyes on you. Can’t risk inciting a war by having reports getting back to him of a Steel Titans club member moving in on his supposed turf.”
“If you think people don’t know about you and me continuing to see each other, then you’re delusional.”
“Slade knows. To everybody else it’s just an unsubstantiated rumor.”
She ignored that and asked, “His turf? Nik’s?”
“What about it?”
“It doesn’t bother you then?”
I shrugged. “Why would it?”
“Me being referred to as his? It doesn’t bother you one bit? You? Alpha-male, possessive asshole extraordinaire?”
“We’re not together, Tasha.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Fuck you, Cole!” she exploded, slapping her hands down on the tabletop, then kicking back her chair and shooting to her feet. She leaned over the table, trying to get in my face.
There was that infamous temper of hers. Interesting. Something was up with her. Unlike with me, it normally took a hell of a lot to unleash her fury.
I glared up at her. “Sit back down. We’re not done here.”
“Yes, we are!” She gave the table leg a violent kick, then spun away from me, storming off.
I let her go, watching as she stomped across the bar, her muscle looking between the two of us, warily, ensuring that I wasn’t going to make some sort of aggressive move after her. As soon as she was through the door, they slid off their stools and filed out after her.
Tapping my fingers on the tabletop, I tried to force patience, something that didn’t come easy to me. I had to play it smart here, wait it out long enough, until she dismissed her muscle. I’d already taken down four guys just to force a face-to-face meet with her. That wasn’t gonna be without consequences. Prez was giving me some leeway, because he knew how she was and the kinda shit she was caught up in. But pushing it too far was gonna have him coming down on me like a slab of fucking concrete. I wasn’t a man who scared easy, but when Slade Mitchell brought the hammer down, it was a whole different story. The guy had a brutal rep for a damned good reason. Unlike sometimes where the stories were exaggerated, that wasn’t the case with him. Nah, the guy had done everything that was rumored about him, and more.
But he only got that down and dirty when he had to.
Plus, he’d always been good to me.
He’d had my back for years.
Hell, he’d taken me into his club family, given me a mission, and helped me to carve out a life for myself. That was something I’d never thought possible a few years back when I’d been living through hell on earth with my little sister and my best friend. And it wasn’t something I was ever gonna forget him doing for us either.
I was his most loyal soldier, no question.
It was one of the reasons why he’d trusted me with this mission. A mission none of the club brothers knew about. As far as they were concerned, I was on personal leave, trying to check my rage. As if that could ever be accomplished. That shit was in me for good now. It was just as much a permanent part of me as the blood running through my veins.
What certain people didn’t seem to get—my best friend, Mason Cross, for one—was that the way I was with my so-called temper had saved my life, saved my sister, him, and helped the club out time and time again. Rage was power. It made me an unstoppable machine. And, the way the world was, it was the only way to survive. Strength, power… it was everything. Giving that up would be like lowering my guard just as a blow’s coming my way. No fucking thanks.
With this current mission I’d been tasked with, I’d be needing that more than ever.
Natasha Ireland was caught up in a real bad world with dangerous players and so many wildcards. I had to draw on everything at my disposal to work my way through all of that and get this shit done.
She might’ve walked out, but I wasn’t worried. I knew her well.
She wasn’t going far.
Plus, I hadn’t shown up here blind. I’d been down in this neck of the woods for three days, scouting out shit, putting feelers out. I knew exactly how she was operating here, what she was up to, and where she was staying.
There was also the fact that I knew in my bones that she wouldn’t take off anyway.
Not now that she’d seen me.
Those who knew about us figured that she had a hold on me, but they had no clue of the hold I had over her.
Nah, she wouldn’t be able to walk away from me.
I’d wait until she calmed down, dismissed her muscle, and was finally alone.
Then, I’d make my move and get this shit done.
2
~Natasha~
“ASSHOLE!” I SCREAMED at the top of my lungs.
I couldn’t believe it. How did he do this to me? How did he get to me like this? No one
