11. KADENCE

KADENCE

T he first few days I’ve been here have been weird. Some of the guys have made their presence known, introducing themselves and being polite for the most part. Cole checks on me every now and then but mostly leaves me to focus on the paperwork. Scottie pops his head in, making fun of the abundance of coffee I’ve had but still refills the coffee pot for me. I think we’re in some sort of weird pissing contest of who can drink the most cups in the day and honestly? It’s nice to have something so easy to focus on aside from Cole’s files.

My eyes flicker up and out into the shop. From here at the desk, I have a good view of each bay, including where Holden sits hunched over a motorcycle frame. He’s kept his distance and never comes into the office unless he has to, which hasn’t been lately. He never asks for a work order or requests to order parts, but he’s always working on that motorcycle.

I shouldn’t care that we have this weird bubble between us, but every once in a while, our eyes will meet from across the shop, making it feel like I’m getting sucked into a black hole I can’t look away from. I hate it and the exhaustion that lingers deep in my bones sucks.

Sleep still hasn’t come easy. It’s not for a lack of trying but I’m sure my coffee intake doesn’t help. Neither does the sound of revving motorcycle engines long past midnight. I know I just have to get used to the noises of being in a new place even with the constant feeling of someone watching me. And the worst part of it all? I’m running out of clean clothes.

I glance up from the shop to look at the clock and see that it’s about time to close up. Most of the guys have left to drink at the clubhouse, but not Holden. I stand with a deep breath and step out onto the shop floor. “Holden?”

His shoulders tense and it takes him a good moment to look up at me. There’s a smear of grease on his cheek and it only brightens the blue in his eyes. It throws me off and I don’t realize he hasn’t said anything to me until his brow raises, expecting me to continue.

The fact that he doesn’t say anything only digs at my nerves. “I’m closing the office.”

“Good for you, Princess,” he mutters and goes back to twisting whatever bolt is more important than having a normal conversation.

The frown on my face deepens as I smack the button next to the door, watching as the big bay doors start to creak and slide closed. He looks up at me with narrowed blue eyes.

“The hell do you think you’re doing?”

“Closing. Like I said.” I bite. “Have a good night.”

Before he can protest or snap back, I shut the office door behind me and grab my phone to leave. I hear the clanging of metal and him cursing as I shut the door to the main building, grinning to myself at the small victory as I bound up the stairs towards the apartment.

Cole had said to reach out if I needed anything and, since I haven’t seen him all day, I send him a quick text asking if I could use the clubhouse’s washer and dryer. Once he gives me the okay, I gather my clothes in one of my suitcases and make my way back down to the clubhouse.

As soon as I open the door the smell of cigarettes and beer floods me, along with a musk I can’t quite nail down. Motor oil? There’s also various colognes and a tiny hint of body odor. I make my way through the group of men, smiling at Scottie as I pass by him.

“Oi! Lass, where you goin’ with that suitcase?” He grins, the scars on his cheeks stretching with his smile.

“Need to do some laundry,” I call back with a laugh.

“Join us for a drink!” Another man yells behind him, and when he leans around Scottie, I see that it’s Quinn. He gives me a smile but it’s not quite as warm as Scottie’s. It makes my skin crawl with unease, almost like he’s trying to force it past whatever thoughts he’s having.

Scottie gives him a soft shove. “Leave the girl alone Quinn. She’ll join us if she wants.”

“Maybe when all this is done,” I say, backing away from them with the best smile I can muster.

Scottie nods once but Quinn’s eyes narrow as he takes a swig from his beer. I swallow down the nerves and turn to head down the hallway. I want to be able to ignore the unease, to not second guess every male that comes near me because I can’t tell anymore who is who. Who is actually good and who is just putting a sticky sweet front on to cover their monsters. So far Cole and Scottie seem genuinely good. Holden… he’s... I don’t know what he is anymore.

I find the door that’s labeled Laundry and push it open to find a small room barely big enough for the washer and dryer in it. I’m shocked to find actual soap and dryer sheets set neatly on a shelf, grateful for whoever put them there. I start to sort my clothes when footsteps thud down the hall. Not thinking much of it I focus on my task until a throat clears behind me.

When I turn my heart sinks and that unease creeps up my ankles in angry vines holding me in place. Quinn smirks back at me. His sandy brown hair and green eyes at first make him seem harmless, but there’s something in that smirk I don’t like and yet it feels familiar. The underlying threat that hides beneath the toothy grin.

“You find everything okay?” He asks, taking a step towards me.

Taking the same step back, I nod. “Yeah, uhm… I’m good.”

Quinn nods and I don’t miss the way his eyes drag down my body before they crawl back up to mine.

“You’re real pretty, ya know that?” He chuckles lowly, moving to reach for a strand of my hair. Swallowing hard, I step back into the edge of the dryer, leaving his hand hanging in the air and that’s when I see it. That flicker of annoyance and self-entitlement for something he’s not owed flashes in his eyes before he recovers with that creepy smile. “You don’t gotta be like that.”

“The answer is no,” I say through clenched teeth and a white-knuckled grip on the clothes in my hand.

“I didn’t ask,” he says, coming towards me again. The distance between us is eaten up by his frame and the amount of space I have to run is disappearing with the air from my lungs. “Ya know, if you want to be a Luna of this club you have to make yourself…useful.” He pauses moving to touch me again. I can’t go anywhere. He’s got me cornered against the dryer and all I can do is lean away from him.

“Get away from me, Quinn.”

He leans with me and the smell of whiskey and hops on his breath fans across my cheek. “No.”

“Hey, Princess!” Holden’s voice booms down the hallway, forcing Quinn back a step as Holden’s frame fills the doorway. I couldn’t care less about the pissed off look on his face as he glances between Quinn and I, but something shifts as his gaze settles on me. His head tilts slightly. “You good?”

It takes me a moment to realize he’s actually asking me if I’m okay. “Actu—”

“She’s fine,” Quinn cuts in, stepping in front of me and squaring his shoulders. It’s a little comical, considering Holden’s a good four inches taller than him.

“I wasn’t askin’ you.” His voice drops to a low warning but his eyes stay glued to me as he takes a step forward. “Kadence—”

“Hey!” Quinn barks, shoving Holden back a step. “I said she’s fine.”

A smirk spreads over Holden’s face as his attention turns to Quinn, almost like he’s been waiting for a moment to let out whatever pent-up aggression he has. Before I know it, he’s throwing his fist into Quinn’s cheekbone, crunching whatever bone he connects with and dropping Quinn to the ground.

“He touch you?” Holden looks up at me stretching out his fingers.

I hear him but I’m focused on Quinn’s groans and the blood dripping down his face.

“Kadence,” Holden says again firmly.

“I’m fine.” The words come out but not even I’m convinced that I actually am. The tight grip I have on the clothes shakes as our gazes meet.

“Did. He. Touch. You?” He asks again each word punctuated with a clench of his fist.

“He tried to.”

Holden searches my eyes for a moment before grabbing Quinn by the collar of his cut, effortlessly dragging him to his feet. “You piece of shit,” he growls. “Get the fuck out of here and leave your cut at the door.”

Quinn stumbles holding his face as Holden shoves him out into the hallway.

“Holden.” I step forward, unsure why I feel the need to stop him.

“Grab your things,” he snaps back at me, stopping me from moving another step. He’s still watching Quinn wobble down the hallway but as he looks back at me, his gaze softens ever so slightly realizing his tone. “The washer broke a week ago, Cole half-assed the repair. Damn thing doesn’t work.”

“Great,” I mumble, ignoring the way his softened tone warms me.

“There’s a laundromat not far from here,” he offers and picks up my suitcase from the ground, setting it on top of the washer for me. “I’ll grab the keys to the truck.”

“You don’t—”

“Humor me?” The corner of his mouth turns upwards as he steps back, giving me space to make the decision.

“You’re really going to sit around and wait for my laundry to get done?” I raise a brow, challenging him only because not twenty minutes ago I locked him in the garage out of spite. I don’t trust that he isn’t going to wait for me to pack all my clothes up and drop me off like an unwanted puppy.

This time his grin spreads. “You promise not to lock me in any more rooms if I do?”

I can’t help but smile back and set my clothes into the suitcase. “To be fair, you deserved that.”