Page 4 of Steel

They want a story to tell when they go back home, or they want to test their limits with a biker for the night. They learn quickly that it’s fun for an evening, but it’s better not to stick around.

At least they offer pretty new faces to look at when Reina’s behind the bar plotting how to poke holes in my condoms to have my babies.

Next to the townies, a few of the old timers’ old ladies are hanging out by a dart board. They’ll bail before shit goes off the rails like it usually does, and that’s for the best. Why any of the guys want families or relationships is confusing as fuck, when all it seems to do is stress them out.

It’s why I’m content searching the room for less permanent options.

At the back of the bar, a figure catches my attention as she moves through the crowd. She’s tiny, slipping around a group of guys as she makes her way across the room. All I see is the top of her sun-streaked honey-brown hair over their shoulders as she weaves through.

When she reaches the bar, she stops beside Havoc and Soul, who notice her immediately. And something about how they both look her over has me gripping my glass.

There’s nothing particularly special about her. She isn’t dressed up like most of the girls in here, and she’s clearly not trying to show off. Her jeans are faded, and her long-sleeved green shirt leaves everything to theimagination. Her hair is down, and she’s cried off any makeup she might have been wearing today.

Fuck.

It’s a red flag if I’ve ever seen one.

Just what I need: some girl with a broken heart looking to start trouble with whichever one of my guys fucked her over. If she makes a scene, I’m going to be fucking pissed. I’ve already had enough drama for one night.

The girl leans against the bar, trying to get Reina’s attention, but she’ll be waiting for a while. Reina would rather serve anyone with a cock.

It doesn’t seem to bother her. She waits patiently, tapping the bar and looking around the room. She’s never been here before, I’m sure of it, and from how she scans the crowd, I can’t tell who of my guys she’s looking for.

Her hazel eyes flit with something edging on indifference as she assesses the scene, and when her gaze pauses on me, her chest expands with the prettiest sharp inhale.

I hold her stare just to see how long it’ll take until she gets intimidated. I’m too damn curious about what brings a girl like her to my club. Or better yet—who.

When I don’t look away, I expect her to break my gaze in embarrassment. Instead, she stares back, ticking an eyebrow up, which highlights a scar that cuts through it. She’s no shrinking violet, and I’d be impressed if I didn’t sense she’s nothing but trouble.

Reina finally reaches the girl, leaning against the bar to say something. Her gaze flits from the girl to me, and a venomous smile climbs the corner of her mouth. They talk briefly before the girl disappears around the corner,and once she’s gone, Reina purses her lips in triumph, pulling her blonde hair up into a ponytail.

I thought cutting Reina off would stop the territorial bullshit, but clearly, that’s not the case. I told her from the beginning that I wasn’t looking for an old lady to ride on the back of my bike, but she took that as a challenge.

I’ve heard the rumors from the guys. The patch bunnies are all betting on who will be the girl to tie down Jameson Steel.

Good fucking luck.

They don’t realize what it really means to be the old lady of a Twisted Kings president. It’s not as glamorous as it sounds.

I’ve seen the proof in other chapters. Their women get lonely and jealous. Or worse, they end up dead.

It’s rare for a guy in this life to get a woman to stick around long-term, and even if they do, they’re usually not happy about it.

Reina smiles at me before turning her attention to someone ordering a drink.

“Reina causing trouble?” Ghost slides onto the stool beside me.

His eyes are on his phone as usual, but it doesn’t mean he doesn’t see everything happening around him.

Ghost is somehow everywhere and nowhere. And even when he’s physically here, he’s never actuallyhereat all. He hides behind his electronics and surveillance whenever he can, making him perfect as the club’s resident tech genius and hacker, but his people skills are lacking.

He cracks his neck, not taking his eyes off his phone. A couple of townies at the bar stare at him like he’s seconds away from killing everyone, and it’s not an unusual reaction to him.

Ghost’s neck-to-knuckle tattoos and generally cold demeanor make people assume he’s more of an asshole than he actually is. In reality, of all my guys, Ghost is the least likely to snap and kill someone pissing him off. Not that he doesn’t have other ways to make them hurt.

“Reina’s fine for now.” I take a sip of my drink. “But give her time.”

Ghost hums, still not looking at me or caring.

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