Page 7 of Cole

two

COLE

The steady hum of conversation, bottles clinking, and pool balls clattering at The Clutch put me at ease as the sounds flowed through the door to the shop. The rhythm of the rock music was broken up by barks of laughter and the shouts of victory when someone made a good shot. The bike I was working on couldn’t keep my full attention, so I called it a day and headed for the bar. Gage and Maddox were posted in their usual spot at the end of the bar top. Ronnie was taking care of the regulars so efficiently that not even the grumpiest of them had anything to complain about.

I knew every damn soul in the bar, every regular, every member of the Hounds, every drunkard who should be anywhere but here. I even knew the town regulars who came to The Clutch because it was the closest place to their houses. I knew their families at home, what worries they had, what their bills were. I knew most of their darkest secrets and biggest regrets. It was my duty to know; my responsibility. The debt my father had passed down to me was mine to bear, and the safety of every single Hound in here was my burden. My life wasn’t mine to live. It was merely to be endured.

There was nothing new or surprising left in this place, and that was fine. My life was plenty exciting enough without drama in my own house. I scanned the bar, making sure business was running as usual, and then I saw her.

Someone new.

She sat at a seat in the middle of the bar, as if she didn’t know it was the worst seat in the house. Or maybe she just didn’t care.

Her strawberry blonde hair was tied back in a loose and messy ponytail. Something about it looked a little too intentional. When she moved her head, it looked at turns red, and then golden. Her shirt clung to her curves in a way that immediately caught my attention. Her black skirt was wrinkled up, and she kept trying to push it down, like she wasn’t quite comfortable with the length. She looked preppy and squeaky-clean. Too clean for anyone around here, and her posture was perfect.

She was pretty enough that most men wouldn’t notice the inconsistencies, or maybe they just didn’t have enough riding on their back to care if someone seemed just a bit too calculated. Shit, she was pretty enough that I had a hard time keeping my distance, even with the warning bells ringing in the back of my mind. But I was a suspicious person. My life had wired me that way. I couldn’t help it. She was also vaguely familiar.

I’d seen that face before, I’d swear it, but I’d be damned if I could remember where. Enough HHU students came by looking for a fun night, but those girls moved in groups, wearing matching outfits, like some kind of sorority girl uniform. They didn’t try to fit in. They weren’t quiet and most importantly, they were never alone. This lone odd duck stuck out, and I didn’t like that. It didn’t sit right with me at all. She was a stranger in my house, and strangers, in my world, were to be treated as enemies until they proved themselves otherwise.

I moved toward the end of the bar, purposely keeping my gaze from meeting hers, and leaned across the bar top next to Gage and Maddox. Maddox was working on a beer, and Gage was halfway through a glass of whiskey.

“Did you see her?” Gage asked without looking over at the blond.

“It’s hard not to see a girl like that,” I quipped.

Maddox grunted, a noise between irritation and amusement. “She doesn’t belong.”

“Give her ten minutes. She’ll get spooked and bolt,” I guessed.

Gage chuckled. “She’s already been here for twenty. So far, she’s made it through Kiki and half her beer.”

“Tougher than she looks, then,” I said, trying not to sound curious.

“Or stupid,” Maddox added, taking a long chug of his beer.

I looked over at her. She clearly wasn’t stupid; I could tell by the way she scanned the room, silently taking everything in. She was quiet and controlled, but watching all the same. It seemed like she was cataloging the entire joint.

I watched as Travis approached her, resting his elbow on the bar next to her and leaning in close. He was a new member who still hadn’t found his place in the Hounds. He liked to play tough, but still had a long way to go if he wanted to prove himself to me. He was Errol’s son, however, and my dad’s old right-hand man still commanded my respect. I’d allowed his son entry, even if I didn’t particularly take to him. Errol was born a Hound. He’d built the club side by side with my father. I wouldn’t break his heart by refusing his only son membership.

Travis tried to joke with her. I couldn’t hear what he said, but it was clear that it didn’t land. Her lips pressed into a firm line, and she turned ever so slightly away from him. A subtle cue to leave her alone, but Travis didn’t get the message.

“I don’t like it,” I said.

“Jealous?” Gage asked with a smirk.

“That is not what I meant, and you know it.” I shot him a look.

But I wasn’t being entirely truthful. I clenched my teeth as Travis put an arm around the back of the barstool. He leaned in close, not noticing how his target held her beer bottle tight in her fist, like she was deciding whether to drink it or use it as a weapon.

“Relax,” Maddox said, elbowing me to get my attention.

“I am relaxed,” I growled.

I forced my gaze away from the blonde. I needed to focus on the business at hand.

“What’s the news on Hutch?” I asked, ready to shift the conversation.

“His guy will be here on Saturday. I had one of the guys do a full sweep of the drop point. It came back clean,” Gage said, finishing his whiskey in one long pull.