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“Ah, my reputation precedes me,” Colton chuckles dryly.
“Let’s step outside and talk,” Orion replies.
To my surprise, Colton thinks about it for a moment—and I can tell he’s offended. A drink is usually offered whenever a club president comes to visit. It’s an ancient tradition, so Orion’s suggestion should be taken as an insult. But this psychopath just smiles and nods, taking a step to the side so Orion can walk out first before he joins him.
From the way he moves, I know Orion doesn’t want Drake and me to go with him.
Colton gives me one last look, then heads out.
As soon as the doors close behind them, I feel as though I’m able to breathe again. Drake comes up behind me. “We have shotguns under the bar, right?” he asks in a low voice.
“Yes.”
10
Nadia
Quiet as a mouse, I sneaked out of the storage room and got back behind the bar. Maybe I should’ve stayed in there, but I admit I was curious. I wanted to see who this guy is who’s got everyone rattled.
Nobody is saying anything. The clubhouse feels like a tomb, even though there are about two dozen men present, all of them clad in the Iron Horse MC leathers and patches. I stand next to Travis, watching as Orion talks to the guy outside.
He seems calm, but there is obvious tension in his shoulders. Anything could set him off, while the red-haired dude keeps smiling with way too much confidence. He’s as tall as Orion and slightly bigger. But it’s the cold glint in his eyes that makes my spine tingle, and not in a good way.
“Who the hell is that?” I whisper.
“Colton Harrow,” Paddy says from the other side of the bar counter, his voice low, almost a growl. He never looks at me, though. “You shouldn’t be out here, Nadia.”
“Why?” I ask.
“Don’t let him see you,” he replies, and Travis instinctively pulls me closer so it’s harder for Colton to spot me. A beer fridge and one of the building’s main structural pillars block me.
Slowly, murmurs rise around us. Members talk among themselves, commenting on whatever is unfolding outside. I look to my left and see Drake and Kai watching Orion and Colton with the fiercest looks I’ve ever seen. Their expressions fill me with fear.
I regret my decision to leave the storage room, but it’s too late. Kai has already spotted me, and judging by his expression, he’s not happy about it.
It irks me; I’m not a little kid. Blackthorn Riders surround me, and this is the safest I’ve ever been. They’re treating me like some kind of damsel, and my Kessler blood starts boiling as I snap my fingers to get Drake’s and Kai’s attention. Their heads snap around with lightning speed as I mouth: “Who is that guy?”
“Stay quiet, and don’t fucking move,” Kai hisses.
Ice fills my veins, and I can barely breathe. My face burns red. I feel awful. I don’t like being reprimanded like this, especially in front of other people. Outside, Orion says something to Colton, and Colton starts laughing as if he’s just heard the greatest joke of all time.
It makes Orion mad—I can tell from the muscle tick in his jaw—yet he keeps his composure and keeps talking while Colton nods and smiles.
I’ve heard his name more than once before, and it doesn’t take long for me to remember who he is. Colton Harrow is Orange County’s newest nightmare, leader of the Black Devils MC. He became their club president after their previous boss died under suspicious circumstances.
Since then, he’s been forcing his way through other MCs' territories through violence and gunfire. Paddy warned me about him. He’s about ten years younger than Orion, Kai, and Drake, but he looks just as buff and ready to rumble at a moment’s notice.
I have a mind to slither back into the storage room when Orion comes back inside, looking as gloomy as ever. Colton is already on his bike, the engine roaring and sputtering to life before he rides it out onto the road and heads south.
“What did he want?” Paddy asks Orion.
“Hold on. First things first,” he says, then pulls Drake and Kai aside.
I’m breathless and wound up tight as I watch them exchange a few words out of earshot. Drake then turns around and clears his throat, coming over to the bar. “Nadia, come here, please.”
“Sure. What’s up?” I ask in a voice that’s barely a whisper.
“We’re going to have to let you go. I’m sorry,” Drake says.
