Page 104 of Lies Like Love

Even if I’m not patched in, I’m close with their VP, Blaze, from the days when he owned Twisted Roses. So the guys at the gate let us in without questions.

When shit went down with my father, I was a mess. Blaze gave me direction. He took me under his wing the same way he did Sage, treating me like his younger brother. He had my back, and I had his. And when someone tried to kidnap his girlfriend, I was by his side handling nasty shit, even though I wasn’t patched in.

I’m not a King, but I’ve earned the respect of the only people who matter on this compound.

Turning to the left, I pull up to Blaze’s bar and put the car in park. Music shakes the ground, even if it’s early in the day. Doesn’t matter if it’s five in the morning, someone inside will be tipsy, drunk, or puking.

I walk around and open Fel’s door, helping her out by taking her hand. Delicate fingers slip into mine. Soft and perfectly polished.

Too damn good for me.

“Remember what I warned you.” I lace my fingers through hers as we walk to the door.

She chuckles. “What? To stay close?”

“Exactly.” I squeeze her hand because she has no idea what we’re walking into.

She might think she’s met bikers before, but she’s never been directly around the Twisted Kings. They’re worse guys than me with no problem spilling blood for no real reason.

First time I came here someone got their tongue cut out for something no one cared to elaborate on. I thought I’d seen my fair share of blood, but these guys make a mess simply to play in it.

They operate far outside LA’s city limits to maintain the illusion of distance. An attempt to keep their hands clean from what they drive into the city for. But bodies are buried, and blood is spilled by these guys on a daily basis.

It’s why I only come here on occasion. Keeping close to Blaze, while maintaining distance from club business.

I should have left Fel back at my place or hers. Even Crew is a better influence than whoever we run into at Blaze’s bar. But like an addicted man, I can’t resist.

“Just stay close,” I say as the door swings open. And I wish they didn’t sound like famous last words.

33

Fel

Themomentwewalkinto the bar, I’m met with a neon sign that reads:I LIKE FUCKING.

Underneath it, someone scribbled in Sharpie:don’t we all.

Jude squeezes my hand tighter, and I follow him around a corner. He looks so good today with his hair freshly washed, but naturally dried so it’s messy. He’s wearing a black T-shirt that hugs his biceps and shows off the tattoos on his arms. The simplest things on him make it impossible to tear my gaze away.

If I thought the music was loud from outside, inside the bar my ears ache. Music thunders through the speakers, but no one is dancing. A few guys wearing leather sit at one end of the bar, and a few other groups are scattered throughout.

Jude didn’t explicitly say this is a biker bar, but I’m not an idiot. The barbed rose emblem on the walls matches the patch on a few of their jackets, and I remember seeing the same thing on the bikers who stopped at the shop to visit Sage.

A couple of them tip their heads up and acknowledge Jude when he walks in, but he barely reciprocates. His grip tightening when a couple of guys look me up and down.

Dress warmmakes more sense standing exposed in this room. He didn’t trust where he was taking me. But he’s the one who dragged me out here, and I’m more than capable of handling myself.

Jude leads us to the bar, where a girl with a jet-black bob and neon pink eyeliner is leaning over it scanning the room. When her eyes land on Jude a smile crawls her face, and it’s so big and filled with energy, it makes my stomach hurt.

I’m not sure why I care which girls Jude’s been with since I didn’t save my virginity when he walked away either. But the same way he’s possessive when it comes to me, I can’t help the jealousy that breezes to the surface when a beautiful woman looks at him.

“Jude.” She pulls the towel off her shoulder and slaps it on the bar, running around it to him to give him a hug.

She practically jumps into his arms, even if he only gives her a one-armed pat and doesn’t release my hand.

“Hey, Candy.”

She steps back and holds his shoulders for a minute, sizing him up, before releasing him. Her eyes move to me and her eyebrows pinch.

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