AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“This is Texas,” Huntsman acknowledged the good-looking biker leaning against the bar with a cigarette in his hand. Unlit. He had dark, spiky hair on the top, the sides shaved bare, and a solid square jaw which was covered in a brush of dark bristles after what looked like a couple days of not shaving.
Texas dipped his head. “I saw you out there, you’re a damn good shot.”
I frowned and tilted my head to the side. “You don’t have an accent.”
The younger biker next to Texas almost choked on his drink while Texas’ dark, moody features seemed to brighten excitedly. “Road names sometimes shouldn’t be taken so literal.”
I continued to stare at him for a few seconds, mulling over what he’d said and trying to figure out what his road name could mean. Finally, I clicked my tongue and shook my head. “You’re gonna have to throw me a bone here.”
“Oh, fuck…” the young kid groaned.
“Funny you say that,” Texas chuckled, the noise a deep rumble that reminded me of some of the men back home, instantly giving me this churning feeling of guilt in my stomach. Texas continued a sparkle in his eye that made me wonder if I should have even asked the question. “They say everything is bigger in Texas.”
I couldn’t stop the giggle that followed, while Dakota’s face just lit up like it was Christmas morning. “I think I’m gonna like it here.”
“God, just fucking kill me,” Huntsman rumbled, looking to the sky as if he was praying for the Lord to just smite him on the spot. After a breath, he finally lowered his head and narrowed his eyes at the two men. “Shouldn’t you two be back at work by now?”
The two of them were quick to scamper, the younger guy stopping right in front of me and holding out his hand. “Diddit.” He shook my hand tightly before ducking around me and heading out through the massive rolling door to his bike.
My hand was still floating in the air from his handshake as I looked over at Huntsman with a raised eyebrow. “Diddit?”
“Yeah, as in who did it,” he answered as if that was the obvious answer.
“And if he didn’t do it?” Dakota asked seriously.
“He did.”
I had the feeling there was a story behind that, but I wasn’t sure I wanted to know what the story was, and I was pretty sure Huntsman had no intention of telling it, already moving on to the next part of the clubhouse.
“Hunts!” a stocky looking guy called, stepping out from one of the many office looking rooms that lined the right side of the room. “I gotta chat with you about some shit.” It looked like he’d taken one too many steroids and had to turn to get through the doorway.
Huntsman just nodded at the man before turning back to Dakota and me. “I’ll just be a few minutes. Go sit at the bar and help yourself.”
I chewed my lip but just nodded and did as I was told while he stomped off like a man on a mission. I wondered if this was what it was going to be like the whole time I was here, or whether there would be a point where I would actually see his hard shell open a fucking little bit to let me in.
Huntsman was good at locking down his emotions, that I knew for damn sure, but I wasn’t here to just be an accessory or an obligation. He either wanted to make an effort, or I would go back to my life without him. And you know what, at this stage, I’d be okay because he had yet to show me anything that made me want to stay other than the fact his sperm was needed to create me.
Thanks, Dad.
Great job.
“You okay?” Dakota asked, looking at me worriedly.
I swallowed past the agitated and disappointed lump in my throat and forced a smile—one I knew she would see right through. “I’m just gonna sit and have a drink.”
She nodded in agreement. “Give me one moment to find a bathroom, and I’ll come back and hook you up with the world’s best margarita.”
“Sounds fucking amazing.”
She skipped off to God knows where. But that was Dakota, unafraid of anything. Even a biker clubhouse where she knew no one but me in reality, but she was about to go and open any door she felt like opening in order to find a bathroom and not give a shit who she pissed off in the process.
I took a seat on one of the barstools, running my hands over the rough surface which resembled a type of concrete with a sheen over the top to make it smooth.
“I think we got off on the wrong foot.”
I instantly cringed and didn’t want to look at him as he took a seat next to me. Wrong foot my ass. He’d come at me like he was going to throw a punch. I knew this club was a little different, a little deeper into the shadows than the boys back home, but one thing I could guarantee you—not one of them would ever hit a woman unless she was threatening to hurt the people they cared about.
Tapping my nails on the stone bartop, I peeked at him out of the corner of my eye. He was looking straight ahead, his body slumped as though he was feeling defeated. He looked older, more weathered and broken down than he did a few weeks ago when I’d pointed my gun at his chest. I sat a little straighter and took a deep breath. This was someone who was important to Huntsman—my dad—and even if I didn’t like him, I had to respect he’d been there for Huntsman for a long time, supporting him, protecting him.
