Chapter 11 #2
Jasmine held out her hand. “Now come on, let me see my masterpiece.”
I took her hand and pulled myself up, the nerves still buzzing under my skin as I smoothed down the tight black dress Jasmine insisted I wear. “How do I look?” I said, twirling for impact. My head spun by the time I’d stopped.
“Like trouble,” she said, nudging me with her elbow.
My smile widened. I’d hoped it conveyed just what it meant that she was there with me again.
“I missed you, Jazz. Thank you for helping me with this.” I grabbed her hand again, giving it a small squeeze like I could force everything I was feeling into the small gesture—years of friendship, of abandonment, of coming back to each other despite everything I’d done.
She squeezed back with equal measure. “Missed you too, Coop. You ready?”
Was I ready? I wasn’t sure. All I could do was what I’d always done—jump in headfirst and deal with the consequences later.
I straightened my shoulders and sucked in a breath. It was the kind you take when you’re about to leap without knowing where you’ll land. “As I’ll ever be.”
The clubhouse loomed in front of us as we sat in the front seats of Jasmine’s yellow Beetle.
The Ridge Riders were as deeply ingrained in Barrenridge as the dust on the streets.
Jasmine’s warning that they were an even bigger danger now looped through my brain like a broken record.
I wasn’t sure what that meant, but it was enough to make my pulse ring in my ears.
Or that could have been my anxiety over potentially facing off with Rowan again.
I still hadn’t wrapped my head around the danger I’d put myself in the previous day, showing up and demanding answers from Rowan like a goddamn idiot.
Although, the chaos of staring at him again had distracted me.
Now that I was back, his presence had burrowed deep into my skin and grown thorns.
He was a constant reminder of everything I’d fled from.
I sucked in a deep breath and rubbed my sweaty palms over the black material barely covering my thighs. The air in the car weighed down on me, heavy with memories of the past and sharp with the dread of what was to come.
Jasmine flipped her visor down and checked her reflection in the small mirror, totally oblivious to my inner turmoil.
She’d grown more stunning with age, like a stone carved out of pressure and pain, polished but still capable of cutting.
As she applied a thin coat of cherry red lipstick, I wanted to launch myself at her and beg for her forgiveness.
Instead, I sat frozen, picking at my fingernails to stop my hands from shaking. Despite everything, she still loved me enough to wade into the mess with me. And in that moment, that was all I needed—a friend who hadn’t given up on me when every rational part of her should have.
She smacked her lips together, then flipped the visor back into place. “Last chance to back out, Coop,” she said, turning to me with her hand poised on the steering wheel like she was ready to hightail it out of there if I showed even the slightest hint of changing my mind.
“Not a chance.” I forced a smile, hoping she couldn’t see the tremor behind it as I climbed out of the car.
It was all I could do to make sure she didn’t take the chance to convince me that what I was trying to dig up really was going to bury us all. Maybe I should have gone home and forgotten about everything. About the Ridge Riders. About Logan. My mother.
But it was too late. I was already there, and I was already bleeding from the inside out.
Jazz was right behind me, her heels scraping over the loose rocks in the parking lot. “I can’t believe I let you talk me into this,” she said, shaking her head. “Remember to ease your way in. If you come in like a bull at a gate, we’re both dead. ”
I nodded as I chewed on my bottom lip. The truth was, I couldn’t believe it, either.
We paused in front of the large door. Rusted metal and bad intentions seemed to hold it together. From inside, the faint thud of bass leaked through the seams. There was no going back now.
Jasmine took my hand, giving it a quick squeeze, and pushed open the chain-link door into the Ridge Riders’ clubhouse. My stomach knotted up as the stench of cigarette smoke and sweat collided with me so hard I almost choked on it.
Low-hung lanterns threw a sickly orange glow over everything. I paused just inside the door, my heart hammering. Everything was familiar but twisted—the same way my life had felt ever since I’d left. Like I didn’t belong anywhere anymore.
“Come on, Coop. We’ve come this far.” Jasmine pulled me across the tiled floor, through the thick haze of smoke, her grip more like a lifeline than a guide.
She was trying to keep me moving before I had time to freak out and bolt back to the safety of her car. Or maybe she understood what I hadn’t wanted to admit—that a part of me was still afraid to be back there.
Men in denim and leather cuts, Ridge Riders patches stitched into their vests, packed the place, women hanging off them in droves.
Most turned their head like a pack of wolves who’d caught a scent, eyes narrowing in on me.
Their stares pressed down like claws. I was a mouse in a room full of hungry cats, and I fought the urge to run straight back out the door.
Jasmine was right. Every step deeper made the place feel more dangerous.
She continued to drag me across the floor, past the old jukebox that was cranking out some old rock anthem.
It was enough to drown out the thud of my racing heart, but not enough to drown out the roar of my own fear.
My fingers trembled as I forced myself to breathe and put one foot in front of the other.
“Sit.” Jasmine shoved me down onto a stool in front of the bar, her gaze darting around the room.
Had she expected trouble to break out at any second?
If so, I doubted we’d have made it out of there without someone’s big, grubby hands snatching us first. Or worse.
After all, the Riders had their greedy hands wrapped around this entire town, from the cops—my father, mostly—to the local businesses.
Christ, even Logan and I had known it as thirteen-year-olds stealing beer from his old man’s fridge, that the Ridge Riders weren’t people you messed with.
Troy—Logan and Rowan’s father—had always gambled, smoked and dragged us to the clubhouse for ‘five minutes,’ often turning into hours.
But that hadn’t been all. We’d found stashes of cash hidden in behind old boxes of ice cream in their freezer.
The first time, Logan’s eyes had widened to the point I thought they’d pop right out of his head.
Is that why Rowan wanted me to stay away from finding answers?
Because Logan had somehow gotten himself involved in club business before he died?
Rowan had mentioned Logan, and his old man had become close at the end.
The more I thought about it, the more I realised I might not have known my best friend at all. Now I had more questions than answers.
Logan wasn’t there to hand them over. But the Ridge Riders were still very much there and being that close to them again was like standing on the edge of a minefield. One wrong step and I would be done for.
Jasmine placed her hands on my shoulders, squeezing like she was trying to transfer some of her courage to me. She’d managed to make a home for herself here, yet I was still an outsider.
She leant in close, her voice a low murmur against my ear. “Remember, behave yourself.”
I saluted her, my faux act of bravery barely convincing me. “You got it, Boss.”
She rolled her eyes. I wasn’t sure how far I could push my luck with her just yet, so I sat where she wanted me and waited for her to make her way around the bar.
The room felt like it was closing in on me, but there was no way I was doing anything to make Jasmine second-guess helping me. I’d behave, just as she’d asked.
I could still picture Logan and Rowan at the pool table, Iron nodding with quiet approval next to Troy, as though he was figuring out how to reel them in, lure them deeper into his world.
The thought made my skin crawl, each passing second reminding me that Logan was gone, and Rowan wasn’t the one standing near the table. He was now the one calling the shots.
I scanned the room for him, for that tall frame, that messy brown hair pushed back in a mop of loose waves. But there were only unfamiliar faces in a sea of bare skin and leather cuts.
I told myself it was a good thing, that his absence was a blessing. It didn’t matter how many times I repeated the words, disappointment still pinched inside my chest.
A shadow fell across the bar, cutting through the dim light. I didn’t have to look to know whose attention I had caught. My heart climbed into my throat, and I whipped my head to the side.
Snake casually leaned against the bar, his tall frame draped in black. His grin spread slowly across his face like a stain as he surveyed me with a crooked smile.
“Well, if it isn’t the chief’s daughter,” he said. The bastard didn’t even bother to hide the smugness in his words .
“Just wanted to see what the inside of a cliché looked like. Didn’t disappoint.” I fired off the first thing that came to my mind, infusing the words with the same sharpness I was getting from the looks around me.
I knew his game. He wanted to rattle me, to show me I didn’t belong there, just like he had that first night I met him outside my house. But I’d spent enough time around arseholes like him that I wasn’t easily scared off. I’d stabbed one, for Christ’s sake.
Snake didn’t even flinch at my words. Didn’t blink. He tapped a black biker boot against the scratched-up tiles, his eyes cold and calculating as they travelled over me.