10. HOLDEN

HOLDEN

G row up, Holden.

Her words cut through me like a dull knife and the fact that those words, coming from a woman I’ve known for less than 24 hours, hurt that much makes me angrier. Who is she? I watch as she walks back to the clubhouse, not missing the way the jeans shorts she’s wearing hug the curve of her hips. My hands ball into fists at my sides and the urge to run courses through me.

“The lass has got a fire in her.” The Scottish accent booms from behind me. I turn to see Scottie standing in the doorway that leads out into the shop. A smirk plastered over his face like he knows something that I don’t.

“I don’t trust her,” I mumble, pushing past him. “There’s no way Cole would just hire someone on the spot like that, let alone a stranger.” I huff, sitting down on a stool in front of a pieced-together motorcycle.

Scottie drums his fingers along the empty gas tank, “Are you pissed because he hired someone who calls you on your shit? Or that he replaced Becs?” The name makes me freeze and my cold blue eyes glare up at him. Nobody mentions her name around me other than Cole and only when he wants to get under my skin. Scottie does it because he knows I’m better than the shell of the man who's been haunting the shop.

“This has got nothin’ to do with Becca,” I hiss, picking up a greased rag and twisting it between my fingers.

He nods. “You keep tellin’ yourself that, Brother.”

He rounds the bike and pats my shoulder a few times before heading back to whatever car he was working on before. My head dips forward, eyes sliding closed to suck in a breath. When they open, I catch the glow of her skin under the midday sun. The natural waves in her hair bouncing over her shoulders as she sips on her fifth cup of coffee this morning. Not that I’m counting, I just noticed that she clearly has a caffeine addiction.

“Nash, you keep starin’ any longer, at some point she’s gonna notice.”

“Shut up, Scottie.”

I hear the chuckle behind me and her eyes briefly meet my own. Even from this far I can see how green they are. I watch as her chest rises and falls with a heavy sigh, breaking eye contact and heading back into the shop. I remember the way she cowered from me last night, the way she shrunk in on herself to get away from me like I was going to hurt her. I wasn’t. I was shocked at her reaction, and for a moment, it threw me back to a time I refuse to remember. I hate the feeling she gave me at that moment. I’m not my father.

I’m angry at the fact that Cole thought I was actually going to hurt her, I’m not that man, but I can only imagine what Cole saw when I barreled through the doorway. An image that definitely wasn’t in my favor and I know that. It was just easier for me to stay the bad guy than try to explain.

Fuck. The glaring memory of me snatching her phone and throwing it invades me. That… I should never have done.

Still, there’s something about Kadence that both draws me in and makes me cautious. It's like she has this invisible warning sign flashing above her head that I’m doing everything I can not to ignore but lures me to her like a siren call. I can’t explain it.

I stand, tossing the rag onto the handlebars of the bike. I head out towards my bike, sliding my phone from my pocket.

“Oy! Where ya goin’?” Scottie asks from behind me.

“I didn’t realize I had a babysitter,” I bite, turning back to Scottie who raises his hands in mock surrender.

“No need to get touchy,” he mutters.

I shake my head as I leave the shop, taking one last glance at Kadence as she moves about the office, this time unaware of my gaze. I watch as she pushes back the hair that’s fallen over her shoulder, giving view to the crook of her neck, and suddenly I’m imagining what it would be like to bury myself into her soft skin, inhaling the vanilla and lavender that flooded me earlier when I had her up against the filing cabinet. Only to be reminded of the words she hissed at me like venom and the fact that I was now going to have to deal with a half-hard erection.

I glance down at my phone, scrolling through my contact list and sit on the seat of my bike, clicking the number I need. I bring the phone to my ear, glancing back at the shop’s office. I’m acutely aware of the woman currently biting her lip as she sorts a stack of paper, with not a clue what she is doing to me.

“I didn’t think I’d ever hear from you again.”

I grin. “How ya doin’ Fisher?”

“I’m old and tired, Holden. Livin’ the dream.” A chuckle came from the other line. “Now, I know you didn’t call me to catch up. What do you want?”

“Always straight to the point, Hank.” I run a hand through my hair, pushing it back behind my ear. “Do you still have contacts at the bureau?”

“Yeah, why?”

“I’m cashing in the Mosul favor.”

“Jesus Christ, Nash. What’s so important that you’re cashing that in?” I can hear the hesitation in Fisher’s voice. Mosul felt like a lifetime ago and yet not at the same time. Both he and I barely made it out alive that day. I carried Fisher through five miles of enemy territory before a rogue bullet ripped through my left shoulder. I was medically discharged a month later.

“I need information on someone.”

My eyes flicker back up to Kadence, watching as she moves through the office with ease, cleaning up the mess the guys had made in there over the last month after Becca was killed.

“Who is so important that you’re cashing in Mosul?”

I sigh, running a hand over my face to get myself to take my eyes off of her. “A woman. Showed up one night, somehow convinced Cole into giving her a job and a home, but there’s something about her–”

I hear laughter echo through the other line.

“You’re cashing in Mosul over a woman because ‘there’s something about her’?” I can tell Fisher is still trying to bite back laughter as he says the words.

“You’re an asshole,” I grumble. Fisher laughs even harder but I don’t find it the least bit funny. “You done?” I snap.

I hear Fisher clear his throat on the other end of the line and sighs. “Yeah–Look, Nash, have you ever thought of just…I don’t know, maybe getting to know her? Like a normal fucking person? Not requesting a full FBI background on her?”

I know it sounds insane, but I also have a feeling that I’m never going to get the truth from her. I recognize the anger and sadness that she tries so hard to hide, but one look from her and it feels like I’m looking into a mirror.

“Fisher, you said any time, whatever I needed, no questions asked.” I remind him.

The line goes quiet for a few moments before Fisher groans. “What’s her name?”

My lips quirk into a grin, “Kadence. Won’t give me her last name, but you can run her plate right?”

“Jesus Christ, Nash.” Another sigh. “Yeah.”

“Great.” I stand, pulling the pack of cigarettes out of my cut pocket, lighting one and taking a long drag. “Papa-Tango-Charlie-4-6-2. You got that?”

“Yeah, I got it. Gimme a day or so and I’ll have something.”

“Thanks, Fisher.”

“We’re even after this, Holden,” Fisher warns.

“I know.” I take another pull off the cigarette, letting a stream of smoke flow from between my lips as I lean against my bike. The line goes quiet again and my brows furrow.

“I heard about Becca,” Fisher says. His tone is softer and more cautious than before. “I’m sorry.”

I swallow the lump quickly growing in my throat. I feel that unrelenting twist in my chest again but I don’t know how to respond. Normal people say thank you and move on with the conversation. But saying thank you is accepting the grief for me and I’m not ready to do that yet.

“Call me when you have something.” I manage.

“Alright.”

I hang up the line, stuffing the phone back into my pocket and take another drag off of the cigarette before flicking it onto the asphalt, stubbing it out with the toe of my boot. The nicotine does nothing for the heavy ball of emotion currently sitting in my stomach. I hate the feeling more than anything I’ve had to deal with. I have a hard time focusing on the things around me when it gets too weighty; my body feels like it's going to shut down, and everything starts to feel catastrophic. There are only two things that make me feel better, alcohol or meaningless sex, and as my gaze lands back on Kadence for the umpteenth time, neither of them seems appetizing.

The door to the clubhouse slams closed catching my attention as Cole saunters toward me across the parking lot. Great , I think, seeing the ever-familiar furrow in Cole’s brow.

“What games are you playing with her, Nash?” He fires off, Cole’s chest heaving as he comes to a halt in front of me.

Anger flares in me as I shake my head. “I’m not playing any games, Cole.” It’s only a partial lie but I recognize the flicker of rage that flashes across Cole’s face when I say it.

“Quit the bullshit. Kadence said—”

“For fuck’s sake,” I exhale, running a hand over my face, “Why do you care about her so fuckin’ much? Huh?” I snap, pushing myself off of my motorcycle standing toe to toe with him. “Seems to me you got a little crush on the new girl, O’Neil.” My words bite like venom through the heavy summer heat.

Cole’s nostrils flare, “There’s only one person I had feelings for, Nash and she’s fucking gone.” His tone is low and that weighty ball of grief in my stomach churns. I always had my suspicions about Cole and Becca and now they’d just been confirmed. All of her late ‘work nights’ suddenly started to make sense. “I’m not trying to replace her–I know that's what you’re thinking. We needed someone in that office and she needed help. That's. It.”

I search my best friend's eyes, taking a step back. It hits me that I haven’t been the only one still dealing with Becca’s death. We all grew up together, Becca being two years younger than us, but even so, she was glued to our hips, getting into the same trouble we were. Becca had a habit of being the ‘brains’ of our operations, meaning she’d give us stupid ideas and watch the two of us try to entertain whatever she’d concocted in that brilliant brain of hers. We always took the fall and never ratted on her to our parents or the cops. I should have known that it was only natural for her and Cole to grow close.

“I didn’t–” I start but stop as Cole shakes his head.

“It doesn’t matter now, Nash,” he sighs. “We both need to deal with our grief. We can do it together or on our own. It really doesn’t matter to me as long as you're doing it in a healthy way. Booze twenty-four hours a day and running through the roster of Moon girls, isn’t it.”

He isn’t wrong. Moon is the one place where I don’t have to worry about the brothers judging me for how much alcohol I consume or how many of the girls we call Lunas dance for me.

“I need to clean out the house, Cole. I just…” I swallow hard.

“The house will come with time. Get your mind right first. We’ll deal with the house later.”

I nod. This is why my friendship with Cole works. The two of us could be having a conversation out loud and a completely separate conversation just by the tone of our voices or the looks we share. We always understand each other and Cole calls me on my shit.

“I’m not playing a game with her,” I blurt. “I just don’t trust her.”

“I think the feeling is mutual, Pal. Just go easy on her? I get the feeling she’s running from something bad. I just can't figure out what,” Cole says, glancing behind him towards the office. Kadence is still nursing the fifth cup of coffee she’s had that day.

I think about telling Cole that I called Fisher but I know what he’ll say and then most likely would call Fisher himself to tell him to quit searching. “She’s skittish and that makes me nervous,” I admit, remembering the night before.

“I’m thinkin’ something is someone,” Cole muses, glancing over to me again.

“Makes sense. The question is why though.”

Cole shrugs, clearing his throat. “Abuse is my guess, but she won’t talk about it. She’s strong, I can tell that much, but whatever she went through has to be fuckin’ bad.”

I watch as Scottie heads into the office, leaning against the door frame as he chats with Kadence, her face lighting up for a split second when he makes her laugh. My temper flares at the idea of someone breaking her down, but the way she cowered from me and the way she shrinks in on herself is starting to make a whole lotta sense.

“Just be nice,” Cole says, poking me in the arm with a pointed look.

“Chill, Cole. I’ll be nice.” I smirk, making Cole roll his eyes.

“Yeah, well, don’t make me kick your ass, Holden. It was embarrassing the last time I did it.” Cole grins, clapping me on the shoulder as I laugh.

“If I remember correctly, we decided it was a tie.”

“ You decided it was a tie,” he jests, slowly backing away from me and back towards the clubhouse. “Oh, Wolfe, Blake, and Trey should be back from their run Friday, which means–”

“Family dinner,” we both say in unison as I nod.

“I still can’t believe you let them take Blake.”

“I didn’t let them do anything. Blake showed up at the first drop with her shit after I already told her no and forced them to let her ride along. Girl’s persistent.” Cole shakes his head. “Wolfe said something about ‘If they don’t take her with them, she’ll draw dicks on Trey’s falcon paintings and hide Wolfe’s favorite knives while they’re gone’.”

I have to stop myself from laughing as I brace myself on my handlebars. “Never thought I’d see Wolfe afraid of a twenty-five-year-old.”

“I think it was more so he didn’t want to hear Trey bitch the whole time if they didn’t take her.”

“You still worried about patchin’ her in?”

Cole shakes his head. “Nah, she can handle her own. I was thinking about doing it after they got back, but we’ll wait to do it. Marlowe wants everyone at the house by seven Friday night and I’m gonna bring Kadence, get her acquainted with some of the women–Don’t look at me like that.” He sighs.

I chuckle, “I’m not looking at you like anything,” I pause. “You think that's a good idea though? You know how Ma gets with new girls.”

“She’ll be fine.”

“Ma or Kadence?”

Cole shrugs, “I’m hoping Blake can be a buffer.”

I raise a brow at my friend, snorting a laugh. “I see.”

“What?” Cole asks.

“Nothing. Just you punishing Blake by sticking her between Ma and fresh meat.”

Cole tries to hide the smirk growing on his face but fails. “If she wants to be a member of the club, she’ll learn to take orders like one and see what happens when you don’t–and Kadence isn’t fresh meat.”

I grin, knowing full well the soft spot Cole has for Blake. “Yeah, okay, big guy.”

“You know what?” Cole chuckles, turning to head back into the clubhouse, “Get your ass back to work and get a fuckin’ haircut.” He grins.

“I will after you do.”

I watch as Cole tosses his head back and laughs, “Touché, Nash. Get back to work!”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” I mutter, shaking my head and make my way back over to the shop.