Property of Tex (Kings of Anarchy MC: Colorado #2)

Chapter 1

TEX

The first thing that hits me when I ride back into Colorado is the cold.

Not the kind that bites, but the kind that settles.

The type that gets into your jacket, your bones, and your thoughts.

It’s the sort of cold that makes everything feel sharper, like the world’s holding its breath.

Or the world is holding you at knifepoint.

The feel of cold, hard steel at your throat.

It was just one of the many reasons I loved this place.

I sucked in a breath, letting Colorado settle back into my lungs and my bones.

I was home.

Part of the allure of club life, at least for me, had been because I had wanted to see the world. I loved my family—my brotherhood—but I’d always had an itch to travel and to see different cities and different skies in equal measure. The women and the whiskey that came with the life were good too.

I’d been working with another chapter for a couple of months, helping out, when a member had been unable to ride due to an injury, and truth be, I’d still be there if I hadn’t been called back by my prez, JD. But when your prez called, you came right back home. No bitchin’, no hesitation.

I cut the engine outside the bar JD told me to meet him at.

Cold Brew wasn’t the usual bar the Kings of Anarchy frequented, but I’d been there a couple of times over the years.

I looked up and down the road, taking stock of my surroundings.

The bar was on a busy road in Rocky Pines, plenty of lights illuminating the night sky coming from restaurants and surrounding bars.

Rocky Pines was constantly changing. What used to be a small cattle town was developing into a busy and vibrant tourist town.

I both loved and hated it. It was good for business, no doubt, but entitled tourists buying up land and property for their second homes and developing their own personal savior complexes was a personal peeve.

Not to mention that my business was knowing people, and new people constantly coming into town made my job harder than it needed to be.

Gravel crunched under my boots as I swung off my bike and stretched my body up to its full height.

After several hours hunched over, I was ready for a cold drink and a warm bed.

Yet I knew it would be a couple more hours before I would get any sleep.

JD had made it clear that bringing me back was urgent, and clearly something had gone down in my absence.

I left my bike parked next to the other Kings’ bikes and headed across the lot. A couple of locals were talking outside with beer bottles in their hands, and they glanced my way then looked right back down at their drinks again as I passed them.

Inside, the bar was warm and loud, all wood and neon and the smell of beer long soaked into the aging floorboards.

A sign on the door announced that a singer was supposed to be playing tonight, but the stage was currently empty.

A mic stand and a battered stool sat lonely in the middle of the small stage, and it made my fingers itch for my own guitar.

I ordered a whiskey, took the first sip, and let it burn down my throat with a satisfaction that only good whiskey ever gave me.

“Been a while,” the gruff-looking barman commented.

“Sure has,” I replied.

“We don’t get many Kings in here these days,” he said. “Tonight’s a busy one though.”

I knew what he was trying to ask without asking. Were we here to cause trouble? I couldn’t answer him honestly so I stayed silent.

“Got a lot of tourists tonight,” he commented, and I nodded in agreement. “Like to keep it that way.”

“Shouldn’t be a problem,” I replied.

I held up two fingers for another drink, and he grabbed a glass and poured me another double.

He slid it over. “This one's on me.”

I nodded my thanks and he took away my empty glass. I took a deep breath as I let the noise of the bar wash over me: the music from the jukebox, from people talking and laughing, from glasses clinking, and the sound of a pool cue hitting a ball somewhere in the back.

I was accustomed to always being on guard, even when it looked like I wasn’t, and I never really relaxed—not unless I was fireside with a guitar in my hand. There was something about the strings on a guitar that made the tension in my body loosen and my muscles finally relax.

JD appeared at my shoulder, clapping me on the back. “Tex, good to see you, brother.”

I turned at the sound of JD. He was president of the Kings of Anarchy Colorado and he was my good friend.

We’d grown up together, but where he had stayed and grown roots in this place, I was constantly on the move, never settling long enough to grow anything but a beard that I could shave off in the morning and a night of memories with a new woman.

I smiled and stood, and we both leaned in, slapping each other’s backs.

“How was the ride?”

“It was long, brother.”

“Shouldn’t have been so far away then.” He grinned and cocked his head. “Come on, everyone’s waiting for you.”

I nodded and picked up my glass, turning to follow JD through the busy crowd to his table.

“There a reason we’re here instead of the usual place?” I asked, moving between bodies.

“Yeah, we’ll get to that,” he replied.

We passed a busy table filled with city folk out on vacation, and I shook my head in irritation.

Then I heard her laugh.

It cut through everything—music, chatter, the clack of pool balls. It was sharp and bright, like someone striking flint. I turned before I could stop myself.

She was leaning over a pool table, lining up a shot.

Boots dusty, jeans hugging long legs, a plaid shirt tied at her waist like she didn’t have time for anything fussy.

Her hair was sun-streaked and tied on top of her head, but loose strands had fallen around her face that looked like they’d smell of hay and summer.

And her eyes, when she straightened and glanced my way, were storm-grey.

The kind of eyes that didn’t just look at you.

They judged you, and right now she was fucking judging me like I was the shit on her cowboy boot.

I chuckled when she looked away.

She wasn’t a tourist, that much I was certain of. Definitely local. But I couldn't remember ever seeing her around here before.

“Who’s that?” I nodded toward her.

JD followed my gaze and snorted. “Oh, hell, don’t start already.”

“Start what?” I asked.

“How’d you do that?” he asked with a shake of his head.

“Do what?”

“Notice the only person in a busy bar you don’t immediately recognize.”

I raised an eyebrow. “You think she’s the only one I’ve noticed in this bar? I thought you knew me better than that, Prez.”

“My bad,” he replied. “Well, that is Rowan Hale, and she doesn’t like bikers. Doesn’t like anyone telling her what to do. Doesn’t like a whole bunch of stuff and she especially won’t like you.”

“You’re killing me, Prez. She doesn’t even know me yet.” I threw him a sideways glance and smirked.

“Uh-huh.” JD didn’t sound convinced.

“Never even seen her around here before,” I said, still watching her.

“Her parents owned the Hale Ranch. She doesn’t normally come into town. Prefers to keep to herself—especially right now.”

“Sounds ominous,” I said.

“That’s a big word for you, Tex.”

“Fuck you!” I barked out on a laugh, and JD laughed back.

I squeezed past a couple of men, and their beer slopped over the sides of their glasses, nearly spilling on me.

They grumbled and turned around, looking like they wanted to throw down until they turned and saw me and JD.

Then they muttered their apologies and held up their hands as they backed away.

JD glared after them before continuing across the bar.

I wasn’t sure how I’d ever missed a woman like Rowan. I’d never even heard her name mentioned before. A woman like that, in a town like this, was not the type I would have missed easily. I scowled, not liking the idea that I didn’t know something, or someone, like her.

“We’ll get to it—and her.”

My interest was officially piqued now.

I followed him through the crowd, but I could feel her eyes on me, just for a second, sharp as a blade. Like she was trying to figure out what kind of storm I was bringing with me.

I told myself it didn’t matter. I was home after several months away, and we had business to deal with. That was all that mattered right now. But as I sat down across from JD, the whiskey warming my blood, I knew one thing with absolute certainty: Colorado was already getting under my skin.

I forced myself not to look back at her. I’d been back in Rocky Pines for all of five minutes, and the last thing I needed was to get tangled up in a woman who looked like she could gut me with a single sentence—yet I had a gut feeling that she was about to become someone important.

JD dropped into a chair, nodding for me to take the one across from him.

I leaned down, shaking hands and patting backs with my brothers—men I hadn’t seen in over six months, and yet it felt like so much longer.

Moose had gotten bigger, if that were possible for a man that was already built like a tank.

Swampy was wearing more rings than before.

The man liked to leave the imprint of his silver rings on every face they came in contact with.

And Bear was as love-worn as he’d been when I’d left.

Ridge and Confessor were there too, and both men gave me subtle nods as they drank.