Hayes watches us. He’s barely taken his eyes off her since I told him her name. They have the same nose, and when she wakes up, he’ll see she shares his bright-green eyes.
A man at the back of the room is the first to move, dragging his hand through his dark-brown hair as he crosses the room. He knocks the shoulder of the guy sleeping on the pool table, waking him up and mumbling something before walking in our direction with lethal intensity in his eyes.
When he stops beside Hayes, I read his patch and realize he’s the club president.
Steel—apparently.
I didn’t pay attention to Hayes’s patch the night we met, but I do now. I focus on his rank specifically.
Vice President.
Crap.
Steel glances behind me at Ghost, the biker who let me through the gate. “Did you search them?”
That question has Hayes snapping out of whatever trance he’s been in since I walked into the room.
“We’re not fucking searching them.” He steps between me and Steel, and my lungs flood with his familiar earthy scent. Ceder and leather. “Just give me a minute.”
“She’s Zane’s niece—”
“Just one fucking minute.”
Steel works his jaw, anger brewing in his eyes. But he nods once.
Hayes turns me toward a hallway at the side of the room, leading me by the small of my back away from the other bikers. The protectiveness is terrifying. Is he worried about what his club is going to do to me?
Should I have thought about that before coming here?
Probably.
Once more, Charlie starts to wiggle around, hungry and searching for her bottle. But I left my bag in the car, not sure if they’d even let me inside, so she’s going to have to wait. Brushing my finger over the bridge of her nose, I try to soothe her the best I can as Hayes leads us to a room near the end of a long hallway.
When he opens the door, I’m overwhelmed with the scent of him. A rich, lingering scent that fills the room even if nothing else in here feels like him. It’s unusually bare. A bed sits at the center. Messy sheets drape onto the floor. The furniture is simple with a dresser on one side of the room and a sitting chair beside it.
Onthe wall are four oversized playing cards carved in wood. The king of diamonds, spades, hearts, and clubs, all in a row. Hanging on another wall is a sheet of metal with the Twisted Kings skull and crown on it. It’s the same logo that’s on the back of Hayes’s cut.
When we met, I didn’t know much about motorcycle clubs in Vegas. Only that they gave my uncle trouble on occasion, and he’d often grumble about wishing they’d leave Vegas. It wasn’t until long after that night that I overheard how much he hated the Twisted Kings specifically, claiming they were dismantling our family’s empire.
Only then did I realize the depth of my mistake.
“You can sit if you’d like.” Hayes motions to the bed, staying by the door. “Can I get you anything?”
“We’re fine.” I take a seat, my back stiff as I glance around the room.
Charlie makes a sound that pulls Hayes’s attention. “How old is she?”
“Five weeks.”
My answer washes any light from his eyes. “She’s five weeks old, and you’re just now telling me I’m a father?”
“It’s—” I close my eyes, letting out a breath. “It’s hard to explain.”
“Try.” His voice is cold.
Empty.
Hayes looks anywhere but at me.
