Warden (Steelwood MC: Willowbrook Ridge #6)

Chapter 1 Warden

Warden

Four Years Ago

The air feels nice against my skin as I soar down the long stretch of empty road.

Leaving behind the town and disappearing into a blanket of pines might as well feel like a hug given straight by Mother Nature herself.

Without any signs of life, no hints of glowing red lights in my rearview mirror, I punch it to my destination.

My bike echoes in the distance, the growl of the engine bouncing off trees in passing.

In the distance, the sun has little remaining light as it slips past the horizon.

This view is always one of my favorites—truly breathtaking.

Soon, the stars’ gentle glow and the full moon will cast their soft white light over me.

This is a view I’ve grown accustomed to with the drive to the clubhouse.

Every day, I take the long path. Not because I have to, but because I want to.

The burden of the town weighs on me, but each bend and dip in the road eases that weight a little.

By the time I arrive, I feel almost weightless, as if I could float away.

In a way, it’s therapeutic. Almost as good as paying someone to talk to about my list of problems. Since I’m not someone who likes to offload my concerns onto others, this is the best it gets. Luckily for me, it’s enough.

I don’t know where I’d be if I hadn’t come across the Steelwood MC. If not at the hospital, most definitely the bar.

Reaching the clubhouse, I can easily see that the party has started early through the soft glow coming from the windows. Then again, it feels like there is always something going on, no matter what time of the day it is. There’s always a reason to celebrate here.

Parking my bike right next to the other prospects, I can’t help but feel a flicker of relief when spotting Hammer’s only a couple of bikes away. As of late, he’s been sticking around. Not to the point of living here, but now that he doesn’t have any family left, this place is home.

It’s so silly, but it’s nice when he’s around. It feels like fewer people give me a hard time when he’s glued to my side, the silent brute. Poor dude. He’s the kind of guy who’ll snarl if you try to get too close.

They say not to poke a bear, and that’s what kept most people away. Unfortunately for him, I’ve jabbed him enough to get used to his company.

Heading toward the entrance, I give a small, respectful dip of my chin to the few members smoking outside. They’re in mid-conversation, so the best I get is a nod back. Good enough for me.

As I stroll inside, the air tastes of salt from the sweat clinging to glistening skin.

I try not to breathe too deeply, or I’ll smell the sex mingling with it as well.

The music is even louder inside, promising a good time to anyone inside as it pounds against the wall.

On a weekend night, it’s no surprise the place is packed.

There are too many members here who pop in for a good time, letting loose after a stressful week.

I nearly bump into a giggling sweetbutt as she leads a drunk member toward one of the booths on the side. I don’t allow my eyes to follow, already knowing what adulterous actions will be taking place. There’s a reason the music is as loud as it is.

Heading straight to the bar, I find Hammer tucked in the corner all by his lonesome. He’s cradling a glass, hardly sipping from it. This is his way to avoid conversation, to keep his mouth busy, even if it’s simply brushing the rim of the glass.

Most people are too scared of him to approach, anyway. After witnessing him bashing a dude’s head in with a hammer, they’re worried he’s going to snap again. For such a big guy, it’s a fear worth having.

He was soft spoken before the event took place, but he’s definitely changed since then. He didn’t turn into some bloodthirsty psychopath. Hammer is just… a loner. One who prefers to listen over speaking.

The best kind of person to call my friend. Unlike him, I’ve got a problem of talking too much. And despite him now patched in, he treats me like I’m at the same level as him. He doesn’t see me as a prospect, but someone worth respecting.

It’s really fucking nice.

“This seat taken?” Giving him one of my charming smiles, his nostrils flare.

“Fuck off.”

We’ll be best friends one day, I swear. We just need to work on his communication skills, that’s all.

Settling next to him despite his dismay, I lean back against the bar and take in our surroundings. Not in the mood to drink, he does it for me by inhaling half of his drink. Woof. Maybe something happened, and his glass isn’t an excuse.

“Rough day?” Lifting a brow, he gives me a grunt. I know better than to mention his sister, so I assume that’s the problem. It’s been a month now since her death, hasn’t it? Yeah, I’d be drowning myself in booze, too. I don’t do well with this topic.

“You?”

Groaning in the back of my throat, I lean toward him and mock a sob to cover up the real one I want to release. “The absolute worst.”

He gives me his shoulder for all of five seconds, five very much needed seconds, before he’s shrugging me off. “Dead?”

Leaning the other way, I sigh. “No. Just had a scare.” Clearing my throat, I shift my weight from one foot to the other. “Doctors are making their shitty suggestions, though.”

It’s why I didn’t hesitate to run from the hospital and fly here tonight. I’m not ready to face my actual real-life problems just yet.

Hammer grunts and taps his thumb against the glass.

He’s not much of a talker, but he’s great at listening, even if he pretends not to.

We’re both a little sore on the topic of family dying, but I’m lucky enough that my father’s still breathing.

Even if he is hooked up to a thousand machines to keep him going.

I don’t go blabbing my issues to everyone, but he’s somehow always there when I decide to get drunk. Alcohol makes me talk about my problems. Thanks to the combination, this man knows more about my old man than about anyone else.

Thankfully, he doesn’t ask for details. Just thinking about what I left behind is making my throat dry.

Twisting around, I have to signal down one of the twins to pour me a couple of shots. Unfortunately, I get the mean-looking one. Despite her scowl, Raven always does as she’s asked. Even though she doesn’t even look old enough to drink, she knows how to pour a mean mix.

Despite a few drops spilling over, I thank her and throw the two back, enjoying the deep burn the entire way.

Hammer taps his finger against the bar, signaling one for him as well. Now that’s the spirit.

What’s unfair is the way her glare softens up when it comes to Hammer. She’s not afraid of him, either, but it’s worse. She pities him. God, is that how it’s going to be once I’m all alone?

Fuck, I’m going to need a third shot.

Once I’m feeling a buzz, I spin around and look for a distraction. It’s not just the complimentary booze that keeps people here. The women aren’t anything to scoff at. Some of them, I’ve recognized over at Lacey’s. Though there, they only give a teasing performance. Here, they seek a release.

My cock stirs to life at just the thought. Shit, how long has it been since my last release, anyway? Despite not being patched in, some of these beauties are willing to give me a moment of their time.

Tonight, I really need it.

Looking around through the excitement, I search for any beauties looking for some company. Can’t ask Hammer for help, not when he’s the last man to show any interest in sex. For this, I’m all on my own.

My search comes to a sudden halt when something catches my eye. A blur of movement and bubbly excitement.

Woah.

There’s a woman planted on top of a table, someone who looks barely legal enough to drink the glass in her hand, having the time of her life. She’s swaying her hips to the beat of the current song, all while releasing the most delicious giggle as she stumbles a little.

Who is she?

Not a sweetbutt. I’m sure of it. Though she’s wearing a tight dress that’s showing off every delicious curve on her body, she’s not displaying herself for the men in hopes of being picked. Though she is accepting whatever drink comes her way, choosing the drinks over pleasure.

Something stirs deep within me as I watch her pause long enough to throw back a shot. Cheers follow, and the party continues.

Watching her like this, my dick is solid against my thigh. She’s the one. I want her. Even if I don’t have a patch, something deep inside of me demands she know my name.

I can visit my friend later. Right now, all I want to do is introduce myself.

As soon as my back lifts from the bar, my best friend here picks up on exactly what I’m thinking.

Hammer clamps his hand on my shoulder, stopping me mid-step. Giving me furrowed brows, he shakes his head. “Not that one.”

There’s a warning behind his voice, urging me to take him seriously. Fuck, she’s not already taken, is she? No, if she were someone’s old lady, she’d be wearing their cut. The only thing covering her body is that teasing dress.

“Who is she? I haven’t seen her around.” Leaning to the left to get a better look, I’m transfixed on her smile as she giggles and nudges an offered hand away with her bare foot. Where’d her shoes go?

Will she turn me down if I approach her? Even if I am, just the thought of her touching me like that is enough to encourage me to move. To seek some contact. Fuck, I want to see her up close.

He takes a sip of his drink, watching the same scene unfold. “The president’s kid.”

Jerking at his response, I look down the bar at the sweeter twin pouring Judge a glass of whisky. Our president has to be in his early thirties. I can’t stop a laugh from leaving me. “Did Judge have her when he was ten?”

Hammer grunts. “The guy before him.”

The guy… before? I get that I’m newer than most of the people here, but in all the months I’ve been here, I don’t think I’ve ever heard about whoever Hammer is talking about.