Page 112 of Colt

My mouth twisted. “Why?”

“Callum asked me to go to the bar for a little chat but not to let Dad know. Don’t mind admittin’ Colt, sounds ominous as fuck. Can’t take Pop, for obvious reasons. Cash is nowhere to be found which means he’s probably fucking Cara somewhere. Break’s at Kennedy’s office ‘cause he can’t go five minutes without seeing her, and Atlas took Soph to work.”

I barked a laugh. “So that leaves me, bottom of the pile.”

“Don’t be a fuckin’ asshole. I’d rather you come than most of them anyway. Cash would end up in a pissing contest with Cal just because he can’t help himself, and At would stand there glowering like a motherfucker.”

Mouth thinning in frustration, I stood again and grabbed my leather jacket from the back of my chair.

I didn’t have much choice but to go. Bowie could see I was just sitting here watching an empty room on the cameras. I’d have loved to go see Freya and make my apologies, but I guessed it could wait. She’d waited twelve damned years for me so another afternoon wouldn’t make much difference.

I fell into step behind and followed him down the corridor to the bar. “What does Callum want a secret meet about?”

Bowie shrugged, “Said it’s somethin’ to do with Donovan.”

My eyebrows darted together. “You think he wants to prospect?”

“Doubtful,” Bowie mused. “Can’t see him takin’ even one of Dad’s orders or cleanin’ the clubhouse after a party.”

“Is he still enlisted?” I inquired, opening the main door, and waving Bowie through.

“Yeah,” Bowie replied as we walked into the parking lot. “But he’s requested to pop smoke next year. Cal told me he’s at home until early January then he’s got six months left.” He headed for his bike.

“I’m not riding, Bo,” I told him.

“Why?” he asked, spinning around to face me. “The snow’s comin’ in soon. Make the most of it.”

I winced. “It’s colder than Santa’s ballsack.”

“You pissy little kid,” he muttered. “You wanna take the SUV?”

I shrugged. “You can ride. I’m fuckin’ not.”

Bowie shook his head as he headed for one of the club’s vehicles. “Fuckin’ rich boy pussy ass.”

I rolled my eyes, pulling the door to the passenger side open and sliding in.

“Sometimes I wonder why you’re even a biker,” Bowie muttered, settling into the driver’s seat, grabbing the keys from the drink’s holder, and starting the engine.

“So do I, brother,” I snipped back, pulling my seat belt on.

Bowie laughed, following suit as he pulled out of the compound and joined the road to make the short drive into town.

Even though Bowie was an asshole for implying I didn’t belong, he was right. I wasn’t a born biker like he and his brothers were. Honestly, I only liked riding when we went on club runs, and that wasn’t for being on a bike, I just loved the camaraderie and sense of belonging.

It was just one more thing I didn’t have in common with the brothers.

One more thing that set me apart.

One more thing that made me realize I needed more than club life.

My heart panged because another realization hit me.

I wanted more than club life but only with Freya by my side, and I was fucking it all up. It had taken me time to adjust back into the MC knowing what was going to happen and also knowing Freya was mine. Guilt had held me back, but I was beginning to see things differently. Being with Freya wasn’t a betrayal, when in our hearts, I was hers and she was mine. The only betrayal that I could fathom was us staying apart.

Okay, so I hadn’t exactly been honest about our relationship, but I also only allowed something to happen when I knew I was leaving, when truth be told, I’d been tempted by the club’s princess for a long-assed time.

Suddenly I felt thirty pounds lighter.

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