A few other bikers, Jackson and Tony included, followed him into the dining room. I already had a river’s worth of beer sitting on the table, and they flocked towards it.
“Hey, Robbie, right? I made a sort of Cajun cheesy pasta with sausage. Sound good?” I tried to be friendly, figuring if I could win over a couple bikers, it would be easier to gather intel.
“Hell yeah, better than some frozen pizza.”
The group laughed, and I smiled at them. I continued setting up the island, laying out plates and bowls. As I do so, more guys pour in, including two brothers I’d kind of been hoping wouldn’t show for dinner. But Lady Luck was not on my side. Dalton basically ignored me, but Mac stood by the fridge. I pretended not to notice him, but my treacherous body heated under his gaze. Nerves, I told myself, just nerves.
Only a few ladies joined the throng of guys this time, and I smiled again when I saw Maria, who made her way over to me. “Shit girl, wanna come cook for me when you’re tired of being here?”
I laughed. “You say that like I’m here willingly.” She looked pointedly between me and Mac. “Yeah, I can see how horrible this must be for you. Two hunks who can’t keep their blue eyes off you.”
I felt a blush creep up the back of my neck. “They’re probably just worried I’ll set another bike on fire.”
She made a sound of agreement. “Yeah, they don’t quite trust you yet. But they don’t have my built-in radar. Not their fault.”
I glanced at Mac, who’d heard the whole thing, but his face gave nothing away.
There wassome silent signal, and everyone started making their plates. This time, Jackson’s old lady pulled me into the line with the rest of the women.
“Hi, I’m Holly,” she said.
I smiled and replied, “Nicky. But, um… I don’t think I’m supposed to be in line.”
“Ladies eat first, and those are Mac’s rules. So grab some food.” She handed me a plate and moved down the line.
Maria was already at the table, the seat next to her empty again. I joined her and asked, “What the heck was that about?”
She took another bite of pasta before answering. “First, this stuff is freaking to die for. Second, that’s just Holly. She’s a bit… odd. Trust issues galore. But she’s good people once she opens up to you. We’ve been besties since high school. She and Jackson are really good together. They met when we were all kids, and there was a running bet for a while. Would they kill each other, get it out of their system with some hot, angry sex, or settle down? I am pretty sure I was the only one who put my money on settle down. And, what do you know, I was right. Shocker. Built. In. Radar.” She grabbed a water bottle and took a sip before noticing my expression. “What?”
I started laughing. “Hot, angry sex? Really?”
She joined me, her laugh loud and boisterous. “If you’d seen those two back then, you would get it.”
Suddenly Maria fell quiet, as did most of the table. Silas had walked in.
He grabbed a plate of food, and sat in the empty seat next to Mac. He didn’t say a damn thing, and eventually, the conversation around the table resumed. I watched him and noticed him looking up at me, slowly smiling. It was the kind of smile you saw onSee No Evil, that true crime show Shelly liked to binge-watch. I clenched my fork so hard, a weaker metal would’ve bent.
Maria grabbed my knee under the table, and I turned to look at her. She shook her head, a silent warning. I glanced over one last time to see him conversingwith Mac. Dalton sat across from them, and was making no effort to hide the rage in his eyes as he stared at his boss.
Maria whispered, “Look, I don’t know what this is about, but Mr. Greyson isn’t the one, Nicky. Most of the guys in here wouldn’t touch you, but he took over the club about three years ago—honestly, he terrifies the shit out of me. He should scare you, too. He’s bad news, Nicky. Don’t push it.”
I pushed the last bit of pasta around on my plate, my appetite gone.
“How, Maria? How did he become president?”
Her eyes took on a sadness. “It should’ve been Mac. But that’s not a story for the dinner table. Some other time, I promise.”
I looked over again, stealing a brief glance. Dalton was still glaring at Greyson like he could kill him with his bare hands, but then he caught my eye. I grabbed a few nearby plates, and got up, hoping he would follow.
I was bent over the dishwasher when I felt a hand on my lower back. I straightened and found him so close I could smell him—a delicious combination of sweet-smelling motor oil, musk, and leather.
“You’re gonna get yourself killed looking at him like that.”
The muscle in his neck twitched as he ground his jaw. “You don’t have to worry about me, Vixen.”
At that moment, I accepted—despite my better judgment—that in a matter of days, I’d come to care for him. I hadn’t met a biker I didn’t like—other than Daniel and Silas, of course. In the few quiet minutes I’d found for myself, I’d watched them interact with one another. They were more than just some club. They joked and rough-housed, knew each other’s families, and I knew by now that when you messed with one man, you messed with them all. They had each other’s backs. Which left me even more confused about how in the hell some guy like Silas Greyson had ended up in charge.
“Dalton—” I started, but he interrupted me.
