Chapter 7 Tex
TEX
The clubhouse lights cut through the dark long before we reached the gate.
Rowan followed close behind my bike, her truck rumbling along the gravel drive like it was running on nerves instead of gasoline. I’d told her to stay right on my tail the whole way back, and to her credit she hadn’t argued much.
Didn’t mean she liked it.
Didn’t mean I liked bringing her here either.
The Kings of Anarchy clubhouse wasn’t exactly the kind of place you introduced a woman to on a calm Sunday afternoon, let alone in the middle of a mess like this, but she’d insisted on being there when I spoke to JD, and I figured we owed her that much at least.
I rolled through the open gate and cut the engine outside the long, low building. Music thumped faintly through the walls. A couple of bikes lined the front porch and smoke drifted out from the cracked door.
Home. Only tonight it didn’t feel that simple.
Rowan’s truck pulled in beside my bike and idled. I couldn’t make out her expression through the glass, but I could imagine it well enough.
She cut the engine and stepped out slowly, glancing around the yard.
Her eyes caught everything. The parked Harleys, the men on the porch smoking, the faded Kings of Anarchy skull patch painted across the building wall, and to her credit, she didn’t look scared.
But she looked like she understood something important: this wasn’t a place you wandered into by accident.
I pulled off my helmet. “Stay close,” I told her.
She held my gaze for a moment, before finally nodding.
We walked toward the door together, Moose, Ridge, and Confessor close by. Bear had gone back to the ranch to check on the prospects.
The music inside the club was loud enough to rattle the walls, with Lynyrd Skynyrd blasting from the jukebox. The room smelled like beer, motor oil, and smoke.
Half the club was inside, and conversations died the second we walked in as all eyes landed on Rowan.
Clubhouses go quiet in a very specific way when a stranger shows up. Not loud. Not hostile. Just watchful.
Swampy leaned against the pool table and gave me a slow grin. “Well damn,” he said. “You bringin’ guests over now?”
“Where’s Prez?” I asked, ignoring him.
Swampy nodded toward the chapel.
Rowan shifted beside me. “You’re just going to leave me out here?”
“Don’t worry, sweetheart, I’ll take care of you.” Swampy winked at her.
“Fuck off, Swampy, now’s not the time.” I glanced at Rowan. “And no, you’re coming in with me. From now on, you don’t leave my side unless I say so.”
She opened her mouth to argue, but then took another look at Swampy before nodding. “Fine.”
“I’ll come too,” Confessor said, “civilians aren’t allowed in the chapel, but he might accept it with me there.”
I shook my head and patted him on the shoulder. “I’ve got it—he’ll understand once I talk.”
He twisted his mouth up like he wanted to argue but nodded his acceptance all the same.
I took Rowan's arm gently and guided her with me, and I felt something tighten in my chest when she didn’t pull away.
We crossed the room and pushed open the door to the chapel, letting the door shut behind us with a heavy thud.
JD sat behind the battered desk inside. He was a big man with plenty of gray in his beard now, but he was still built like a truck.
His eyes lifted slowly from the paperwork in front of him, moving from me to Rowan and then back to me.
Ink, our club secretary was sat next to him, his wire glasses hanging on the end of his nose by sheer luck alone, a lit cigarette trapped between his lips.
“Who’s this?” Ink asked, though there was something like recognition on his face.
“Tex,” JD said calmly before lighting a cigarette and blowing out a long curl of smoke. He leaned back in his chair, his gaze moving slowly between Rowan and I. “You wanna tell me why you just walked a civilian into my clubhouse and my chapel? We have rules for a reason, brother.”
My gut tightened. “Prez, we’ve got a problem,” I said.
JD studied me for a long moment before nodding at us to sit down. He turned to Ink. “We’ll finish this up later.”
Ink grumbled and stubbed out his cigarette before gathering up the paperwork and shuffling out of the room. He was even older than Confessor and barely rode anymore. His hands were gnarled and his skin leathered from years of riding, but he still handled all the money coming in and out of the club.
JD blew out a mouthful of smoke. “When I brought you back here to help the club on this matter, I thought I’d made the right call.
Now you got me questioning myself.” He let out a heavy breath, and I knew why he was struggling.
He had things to say, but a lot of things couldn’t, and shouldn’t, be said in front of Rowan.
She wasn’t part of the club and her loyalty to us, regardless of us trying to protect her, was unknown.
“I know what you’re thinking,” I began, and he chuckled cutting me off.
“I guarantee you that you do not.”
“Fair point, but I didn’t want to leave her alone right now.” I glanced over at Rowan, taking in the angle of her jaw and the narrow of her eyes.
JD tipped his head at me. “Okay, so start talking.”
So I did. I explained about the man she had met that had pulled her over and the fire at the shed, at which I felt her body tense next to me and I felt like a sack of shit because it was the first she was hearing about that.
I told him what the man she had met had said about her father and our club.
The whole time, JD didn’t interrupt once.
Rowan sat beside me, silent, anxiety pouring from her in waves. I knew all she wanted to do right now was get back to the ranch, but she sat patiently waiting all the same.
When I finished, JD folded his hands together slowly. Then he looked at Rowan.
“What was your father’s name?” he asked.
Rowan hesitated. “Caleb Hale.”
JD shook his head. “I don’t know him other than he ran the Hale Ranch for twenty years. Straight as an arrow, from what I originally heard.”
“Yes, sir, that’s why I don’t understand what this other man is talking about. My father never even bought a lottery ticket. There’s no mortgage on the ranch. No debts. No nothing. He was a good man.” She shrugged, the frustration clear. “I don’t know what he could be talking about.”
Her chin trembled on that last part and I had the urge to grab her and pull her against my chest. I wanted to take away her pain and her sadness. I wanted to give her back her ranch and her peace. And I would, no matter what it took.
The intensity I felt for keeping her safe was unsettling and I forced myself to keep still and silent and not make any move toward her.
JD scrubbed a hand over his gray beard. “I’ve been asking around, and you’re right, originally there wasn’t much out of the ordinary for either him or your mom.”
“They were just normal people. My mom did the errands—school drop-offs, grocery shopping, anything like that. Dad ran the ranch with minimal help until the day he died.” Rowan fell quiet, and when I looked over I saw the agony in her pained expression as she tried to calm herself down. “And then my Mom went right after him.”
I closed my eyes briefly, her pain visceral. To lose both parents so close together, Jesus, no wonder she was trying to be so tough. If she let any of that pain out she was going to fall apart.
“Must have been hard,” JD said, pouring a shot of whiskey into a glass.
He slid it over to her and she took it gratefully.
She took a small sip and I watched her muscles relax as the burn of it slid down her throat.
Something about the action made me smile.
It was a feeling almost like pride. Nothing like a woman that could handle her whiskey.
“It was,” she said, putting the glass down, “but you have to deal with these things. You never know what life is going to throw at you.”
JD lifted an eyebrow. “Exactly. Just look at the situation you’re in now.”
I frowned, not liking the direction the conversation was going. Rowan shifted in her seat before briefly glancing across at me and then back to JD.
I opened my mouth to say something when JD held up a hand. “Not a word, Tex. I want to hear from Rowan. If you’re so tough, then why are you asking for our help, kitten?”
“She’s not—” I started, but JD slammed a hand down on the desk.
“I said shut the fuck up, Tex. I’m talking to your woman, not you.”
“I’m not his—”
“She’s not my—”
JD stood up abruptly, cutting us both off.
He stubbed his cigarette out into the ashtray and glared at Rowan, and I felt every hackle in me rise.
What the hell was happening? Had he lost his fucking mind?
She was just a woman—a woman he had told me to help because she was caught up in club business.
“I did some digging of my own, Rowan Hale,” JD began.
Rowan glanced across to me, her eyes wide, anger and fear warring inside of them. “Okaaaay,” she said, dragging out the word with enough sass to almost make me laugh. “And?”
“Did you ever wonder why he fucking shipped you off to college across the country? Why he and your mom did everything they could to keep you away from the ranch?”
“They didn’t, they—”
“Don’t bullshit me, Rowan!”
“Prez!” I barked out his name, standing up as I did, but JD kept his gaze firmly on Rowan. “What the fuck is going on?” I slammed my fist against the table and JD looked over my shoulder as the door opened and Swampy and Gods came in.
I had never seen JD like this before. For as long as I had known him, he had always been cool, calm and composed. It took a lot to shake him, and right now my president was shaken.
JD lit another cigarette as Swampy and Gods stood behind Rowan. I felt the tension growing even further in her, and I wasn’t sure whether she was going to start swinging or break down crying. But if I had to bet on it, I would have bet she’d start cracking skulls anytime now.
“What’s this all about?” I asked JD as calmly as I could.