Chapter 9 Rowan
ROWAN
Ididn’t remember leaving JD’s office.
One moment I’d been standing there trying to hold myself together while the ground shifted under my feet, and the next I was walking down a dim hallway that smelled faintly of cigarette smoke, leather, and motor oil.
The clubhouse didn’t quiet down after the meeting.
If anything, it got louder.
Men moved through the halls in heavy boots, doors opening and closing, low voices carrying through the thin walls. Somewhere downstairs, someone turned the jukebox on, and the thrum of bass crept through the floorboards.
I sat on the edge of the narrow bed in Tex’s room, staring at my hands.
They were still shaking.
Everything from the last hour replayed in fragments. My father’s name, the missing shipment, the cartel. Every piece felt like it belonged to someone else’s life, not mine.
My father had raised horses and my mother had baked pies for the county fair. They weren’t drug runners or criminals. Or so I’d been led to believe. But the more I thought about it, the more little cracks appeared in the picture I’d always believed.
My father disappearing for days at a time when I was younger. The way he’d watch the road from the kitchen window some nights. The hushed arguments I used to hear through the walls after they thought I’d gone to bed.
I pressed my fingers to my temples.
“Stop,” I whispered to myself.
The door opened softly behind me and I turned.
Music drifted from somewhere down the hall, an old rock song humming through battered speakers while men’s voices carried from the bar area. Glasses clinked and someone laughed. Boots thudded against wooden floors.
It felt like I had stepped into another world, and it was a world far different from my own.
My world had always been quiet. Even before I came home.
But now, back at the ranch, it was just me, the open sky, and the steady rhythm of horses and wind through the grass. It was soft and gentle where the clubhouse was all sharp edges and noise.
Tex stepped inside the room, ducking slightly under the frame like the doorway had been built for smaller men. He closed the door and leaned back against it, watching me, and for a moment neither of us spoke.
The dim lamp on the dresser cast soft shadows across the room. It wasn’t much of a space—just a bed, a dresser, a chair, and a battered nightstand—but it smelled faintly of leather, soap, and something warm and clean that I couldn’t quite place.
Tex rubbed the back of his neck. “Sorry about that circus downstairs.”
I let out a tired breath. “Is it always like this?”
“After a meeting like that?” He shrugged. “Yeah.”
My gaze dropped to the floor. “They really think the cartel killed my parents?”
Tex pushed away from the door and stepped further into the room. “They don’t know what happened, but it makes the most sense,” he said carefully. “It’s what I believe.”
The room felt colder suddenly and I hugged my arms around myself.
Tex noticed. He moved to the dresser, opened the top drawer, and pulled out a worn gray hoodie.
“Here.” He held it out to me. “It can get cold in here at night.”
I took it from him. The fabric was soft from years of washing, and the sleeves were way too long, but it was sweet of him all the same.
“Thanks.”
When I pulled it on it swallowed me whole, the scent of him stronger now. Clean soap, leather, and the faint bite of motor oil. It strangely made me feel safer.
Tex sat down in the chair across from the bed, elbows resting on his knees. “You holding up okay?”
I laughed quietly. “Not really.”
He nodded like he expected that answer.
“I keep thinking this is some kind of mistake,” I said, “that tomorrow I’ll wake up and everything will go back to normal.”
Tex didn’t say anything. Because we both knew that wasn’t going to happen.
“I don’t even know who my parents were anymore,” I murmured. “My whole life has been a lie.”
For the first time since he came in, Tex looked uncomfortable.
“They were still your parents, Rowan,” he said finally. “They raised you. Loved you. That doesn’t change.”
My throat tightened. “That’s easy for you to say.”
He lifted an eyebrow. “You think so?”
I looked at him properly then, noting the faint scar along his jaw and the tired lines around his eyes. I noted the way he held himself like someone who had spent most of his life ready and waiting for a fight.
“It’s different for you. You grew up in this world,” I said, and then I let out a dry laugh, “apparently so did I.”
Tex shook his head. “I didn’t. Not exactly.”
That surprised me. “No?”
“Nah.” He leaned back slightly in the chair. “Didn’t join the club until my twenties.”
“What were you before that? Before all this?”
A small smile tugged at his mouth. “Trouble.”
Despite everything, a faint smile pulled at my own lips too. The moment didn’t last long though.
“Look,” he said, softer now, “I know this isn’t what you want. Hell, it’s not what I want for you either.”
I gave a tired laugh. “That’s comforting.”
His mouth twitched slightly. “But right now, this is the safest place for you. I can’t quite believe I’m saying this but you heard it for yourself—someone in our club has instigated this. And if there’s a rat in our club then we need to hunt him down and chop off his head.”
My mind snagged on that word—rat.
They had a rat in their club.
I sank down onto the edge of the bed and the mattress dipped under my weight. “I keep trying to remember,” I said quietly.
Tex tilted his head. “Remember what?”
“My parents,” I whispered. “Signs or clues. Hints of anything that might explain all of this.” I rubbed my temples. “But all I see is my mom baking pies and my dad fixing fences.”
He nodded like he agreed, but remained silent, and I was glad of it.
My throat tightened. “They weren’t criminals, Tex.”
Tex didn’t answer right away; instead, he walked over to the small fridge in the corner and pulled out a bottle of water and he handed it to me.
“People are complicated,” he said.
I twisted the cap off and took a sip. “You’re saying my parents were drug runners but still good people?”
“I’m saying that the world isn’t always as simple as you want it to be. It’s not always black and white.”
That wasn’t exactly comforting either.
Silence stretched between us again and I decided to change the subject. Talking about my parents was making me feel sick to my stomach.
“Can I ask you something without you being weird?”
He raised an eyebrow. “No promises.”
“This is a weird question and completely off topic, I guess, but where are all the women?” I asked.
Tex blinked and then chuckled. “What?”
“In the bar, downstairs,” I said. “I didn’t see any women.
I thought there would be women everywhere, draping themselves across all of you or whatever.
That’s what everyone in town says it’s like in here, anyway.
Are they all wrong? I mean, I feel like I’ve been wrong about a lot of things recently. ”
He rubbed the back of his neck, a grin on his face. It made him look handsome, maybe even sweet. “You’re not wrong. The women, they’ll show up later.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means,” he said carefully, “that clubhouse life gets real busy at night.”
I stared at him. “You’re telling me this place turns into some kind of biker stripper bar?” I guffawed, feeling strangely embarrassed, though I had never been a prude.
“Somethin’ like that, sweetheart.”
I let out a long breath and willed my heated cheeks to go away. “Well that’s fantastic.”
His brow lifted. “Why? You plannin’ on joining the party?”
“Hard pass.”
That earned another quiet chuckle from him and the sound surprised me.
For a moment the tension in the room eased.
Then the weight of the day settled back over me again.
So much had happened in such little time.
I had been worried about paying bills and finding the money to feed the animals, and now I was worried for my life and wondering who the hell had actually raised me.
I was beyond exhausted, both physically and mentally, and my thoughts were becoming sluggish. I didn’t think I would be able to sleep with all the new knowledge I had inside of me, and yet I knew once my head hit the pillow I would be out of it. My eyelids felt heavy and Tex must have noticed.
“You should sleep.”
“I don’t think I can.”
“Try anyway,” he said, his voice a deep, low rumble.
I stretched out slowly on the bed, still wearing my jeans and boots.
The mattress smelled faintly of soap and leather and I buried my face into the neck of the hoodie, feeling safe and warm.
Tex moved toward the door.
“Tex?” I said softly.
He paused. “Yeah?”
I hesitated, but the question slipped out before I could stop it.
“Do you think my dad was a bad person?”
Tex didn’t answer right away. He leaned against the doorframe again, studying me. Finally, though, he shook his head, his decision made.
“No.”
Relief washed through me so suddenly it made my eyes sting.
“Why not?”
His gaze drifted briefly down the hallway outside. Then back to me.
“I’m not a parent, but I imagine being one means you’ll do anything to protect your kid. They’re small and precious and I think he thought he was giving you a better life. But I’m not a parent, so what do I know.”
“I like that answer,” I said with another yawn.
And I did. I liked it a lot more than all the things I had been thinking.
“I can’t believe someone killed them and I didn’t know. Like it feels like I should have know. But instead, I thought—”
Tex’s jaw tightened. “It’s not your fault—how could you have known. The problem is that someone inside the club wants that land. Or at least they want the route to remain open for the cartel.” His eyes darkened. “Your ranch isn’t just a ranch anymore, Rowan.”
My stomach twisted. “My mom and dad were a part of this.” It was a statement rather than a question. “And someone killed them for it. Someone in this club probably.”
Saying it out loud actually felt better. Like I wasn’t dreaming it.
Something flickered in Tex’s eyes—something uneasy. “Only a handful of guys know about that old route,” he said slowly, “we’ll figure out who soon enough. You won’t need to worry for long.”
For a moment the room went completely still and then Tex exhaled slowly. A burst of laughter floated up from downstairs, followed by the clink of bottles. The normalcy of it felt strange after everything we’d just learned.
“You should try to get some sleep.”
I looked at the bed. “What about you?”
“I’ll crash on the couch downstairs.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
He shrugged. “You’re the guest.”
“This is your room.”
Tex smiled faintly. “Sweetheart, I’ve slept in worse places than a beer-soaked couch.”
My cheeks warmed slightly at the nickname.
“Tex?”
He paused and looked back. “What?”
I hesitated, then asked the question that had been creeping into my mind all evening.
“If there really is a rat in your club…”
His eyes hardened and he swallowed. “Yeah...”
“…what happens when you find them?”
For a long moment he didn’t answer. The sounds from downstairs drifted faintly up the hallway. Boots on wood. Men talking. Life going on like nothing had changed when everything had.
Tex finally spoke, his voice quiet. Yet there was something undeniably deadly in it also. “It won’t end well for them.”
A chill slid down my spine.
Tex opened the door, but before he stepped out, he looked back at me one last time. “Lock the door after me,” he said, “just in case.”
For the first time since arriving at the clubhouse, I realized something even more terrifying than the cartel coming after me.
The danger might already be inside this building.
The silence that followed felt thick and suffocating. From somewhere down the hall, someone shouted and a burst of laughter followed, but inside the room, everything felt still.
Tex straightened. “Get some sleep,” he said. “We’ll figure out the next move in the morning.”
He stepped into the hallway and pulled the door closed behind him, and the room fell quiet. I stared up at the ceiling, thinking of everything all at once.
My parents weren’t who I thought they were.
A cartel wanted my land.
And somewhere inside this building, there was a man who had betrayed my mom and dad and might be planning to betray them again…to get to me.
I closed my eyes, but sleep didn’t come easy, because the last thought that drifted through my mind before exhaustion finally pulled me under was far more frightening than anything else.
What if the rat wasn’t just someone in the club?
What if it was someone Tex trusted?
Someone close to him.
Someone who already knew I was here.