23. Reed

Reed

23

Mason holds my hand as we make our way up the path that leads to the Twisted Kings clubhouse in Las Vegas.

It's comforting having Mason at my side. Especially after I've been distant for the last twenty-four hours.

I barely slept last night, and the moment I tried, Carter's face filled my nightmares. The way Carter grabbed me in the alley resurrected my trauma. It was like no time had passed—like I hadn't changed. And that scared me more than anything. The possibility that he could be right.

I've been trying to move on, but the moment we were face-to-face, I became that same girl who spent six years fearing him. Who wanted nothing more than to ease his anger so I could come out the other side.

Once again, I was weak. And what's worse, Mason saw that side of me.

He hasn't brought up the run-in with Carter, but I know he senses the distance I'm placing between us because of it. I slept in my own bed last night because I didn't know how to face him. And even if I left my door open, I was a coward.

Mason sets me free, and still, I hand the chains to my ex and let him hold me down like these past couple of months have meant nothing.

Waking up, I waited for Mason to resent me for hiding away in my own bed. But of course, he didn't, and I'm thankful he's still trying.

Neither of us knows what will come of this, but when he took my hand to help me out of the car and didn't immediately let it go, that felt like a good first step. He holds me at his side like I belong there, no matter how much I push him away.

I'm terrified of what we're becoming, but I can't fight it. Looking up at him, the sun lights the desert sky above. And when he smiles, it brightens even more.

He says he'll carry the weight with me, but how long until it's too much for either of us to bear?

"A lot on your mind today, huh, bite-size?" He glances down, knocking me playfully on the shoulder. "You're too quiet."

"I'm quiet sometimes."

"Only when you're thinking about something."

How does he know that?

Mason reads me like he's been memorizing everything about me.

The moment my stomach rumbles, he feeds me. The moment I'm quiet, he wants to know what's wrong.

Maybe he's a masochist because I'm no good for him.

"You know everything, huh? Says the guy wearing a hoodie at the compound?" I change the subject, flicking it with my free hand.

Vegas is even warmer than LA, but it's still cool enough to need a light sweater this time of year.

"What's wrong with it?" Mason looks down at the Sleep Token logo on the front. "You've seen this one before."

"It's funny, that's all." I wave my arm out. "Here we are at the original Twisted Kings clubhouse, and you're wearing a hoodie and sneakers. Very brave of you."

He tilts his head back and laughs, drawing out the veins in his neck. "Guess someone forgot to give me the leather and boots only in these parts memo."

"Guess so." And I love it.

I might even love him—in whatever way I'm capable of at this point.

All I know is that I can't define what it is that plants inside me when my gaze meets his. The way I want to protect him as much as he wants to protect me. And how easy it is to just exist around him.

Mason makes the world feel lighter. And holding his hand as we approach the clubhouse, he fits in the spot beside me.

The biker's daughter and the billionaire trust fund kid.

Both of us are breaking free of our roots and living on our own terms. Our pasts couldn't be more opposite, but it somehow makes sense.

"Have you been here?" he asks as we reach the steps.

"Once. But I was a kid, so I don't really remember it."

Similar to the LA compound, there's a neighborhood on the edge of the land where some of the families live, and that's where my dad left me when he went to deal with club business.

"I've never been inside the clubhouse," I tell him.

It's double the size of the one in LA, which is fitting, given this is the chapter that started it all. And it's situated in the center of a huge chunk of desert just outside of Las Vegas.

The moment we reach the top step, the door swings open, and we're met by Jameson Steel, with his sergeant at arms at his side.

Steel is my brother's age but not nearly as approachable as Sage. His square jaw is clenched as his light-gray eyes scan us. He's wearing dark jeans, a simple white T-shirt, and his black leather cut. Everything about him embodies the president patch stitched to it.

When I was a teenager, I had the biggest crush on Steel, and I wasn't the only one. He has that effect on women, given he's young for an MC president, attractive, and doesn't take shit from anybody.

But now, he reminds me of a life I've tried my best to separate from. A life fitting my brother and Lyla that I want no part of.

Steel represents danger—violence. Everything I've been running from.

Unlike the man beside me.

"Mason Zane." Steel pauses, looking him over. "You're lucky you don't associate with your father, or I'd be inclined to throw you a different kind of welcome party."

"Wouldn't blame you." Mason reaches out his hand, and Steel takes it. "Sorry he's been causing your guys trouble."

"We'll deal with Zane… eventually." Steel rakes his hands through his dark, sun-streaked hair. "But it sounds like you need a go at him first."

"He and I need to have a chat."

"Understood. Well, Ghost keeps tabs, so he'll let you know where your dad's at." Steel nods, looking from Mason to me. "All grown up now, huh, Reed?"

"Ten years will do that to a person."

"That it will. Come on in and have a drink." He looks over at his sergeant at arms. "Let Ghost know they're here."

He nods, disappearing down a separate hall as Steel leads us into the clubhouse. A few guys are milling around. Some are playing darts while a couple of others are playing pool.

"It's quiet in here," Mason says, glancing around the room.

"Yeah…" Steel clicks his tongue. "We had a bit of a situation last night. Don't need any outsiders here while we deal with it."

The one thing I appreciate about bikers is they don't elaborate if you aren't a member of the club. The last thing I want to know is why everyone in the room seems on edge. Or why Steel pauses when his gaze trails out the back window to a separate building that sits in the distance, like the horse stalls on the compound in LA.

Steel leads us to the bar, and Mason guides me to the stool closest to the wall, sitting on my other side to cage me in. The same way he always moves to stand on the roadside of the sidewalk. Little ways he looks out for me.

"Sage said you're after Carter Connors."

"Yeah." Mason nods. "You know him?"

"Not well, but when he does come to town, he tends to make noise."

"How often is that?" I lean forward.

Carter traveled frequently for business, but he never mentioned coming to Las Vegas.

"Often enough to be on my radar. Couple of times a year at least."

My stomach drops because it's just one more thing Carter wasn't telling me. There's so little I knew about the man I was sharing my life with.

Mason reaches over, sliding a hand onto my thigh and squeezing it. But he doesn't take his eyes off Steel, who is motioning for a girl behind the bar.

Her hair's nearly white it's been drowned in so much bleach, and she's beaming at Steel as she walks over in her skintight jeans and cropped T-shirt.

I never understood the girls who hung around the clubhouse. They always seemed so desperate for attention. It wasn't until the first time Carter got rough with me that it all made sense. Sometimes you stick with what's familiar, even when it's not good for you.

These women are also trapped by their life choices. Except, unlike me, the men here don't hurt them. They have a mutual understanding, and everyone benefits in some way. The girls use the club for housing, jobs, and a good time, and the guys use them so they don't get lonely.

"What can I get ya, baby?" The platinum blonde leans on the counter, pushing her tits up and winking at Steel.

He orders a whiskey before her gaze moves to Mason, and she bats her lashes at him.

"Water." He nods.

"Make that two."

"You got it."

After a moment, she's back with our drinks, and I take a long sip. It's a nice day outside, but the clubhouse is warmer. I'm not sure how any of these guys are walking around in leather.

Steel downs his shot in one swig as a man with dark hair stops beside him. Every inch of exposed skin is covered in tattoos from his neck to his hands.

He hands Steel a piece of paper. "Here you go, Prez."

I barely catch a glimpse of his pale-blue eyes, peeking through the dark strands of hair that fall to his lashes before he once again disappears.

"A present from Ghost." Steel holds the paper up for Mason.

Ghost.

The name is strangely fitting, even if it leaves a chill running down my spine.

Mason unfolds the paper, and it's a VIP invitation to a party at one of Zane's hotels tomorrow night. We could probably get in with one phone call to Mason's dad, but he refused to reach out before we got to town, so this is the best way to do it.

I don't know the details surrounding how he left things with his family, but I'm under no illusion it was positive.

"Tomorrow night." Mason glances at me, and I nod.

"Hope you get what you came for." Steel slides his empty glass across the bar. "Because if I have anything to say about it, Rick Zane will be six feet under next time you roll through. No offense."

Mason smirks, shaking his head. "Have at it."

The dark amusement in Steel's gaze has my spine tingling. Mason might not want any part in whatever Steel is planning, but he isn't opposed to it.

"Well, good luck. I've got shit to get back to." Steel's gaze moves to the building in the distance, and the fire in his eyes is terrifying.

Luckily, Steel's comment has Mason eager to leave as well because I don't want to know what he's referring to.

Mason leads me out of the clubhouse, and we climb into the car. The countdown is ticking. All I can do is hope Mason's dad is more reasonable than Mason seems to think.

If not, we might be walking into a worse situation than just going face-to-face with Carter.