Page 9 of Steel

“Nice try, wildfire. But you see this patch?” He plants his hand over the word “president” stitched on his chest.

I nod, swallowing hard, trying not to breathe in his intoxicating cinnamon scent.

“They call me that for a reason.” He reaches up to lift my chin, forcing my gaze on his ocean-gray eyes—the color of the sea at dusk. “Now tell me, what is it you’re doing in my club?”

3

Tempe

If my father taughtme anything from the few times he came around growing up, it’s never to let anyone see your weaknesses—physically or mentally. Staying alert and sharp is the only way to survive in a world where everyone looks out for themselves. And even when an opponent is stronger or in a better position, there’s always a way to use it against them to gain the upper hand if you take the time to look for it.

While my father wasn’t good for much more than half my DNA, that sentiment settles in this moment.

He was one of them.

A Twisted King.

I roll my shoulders back and take the only advice he was good for. I straighten my spine and dust it off, refusing to let Steel sense weakness.

“Are you just going to stand there and stare at me?”

“Yes,” he answers without a pause.

Given his position in the club, I doubt he’s easily rattled. He’s probably rarely challenged. So I’m not surprised he doesn’t flinch at my annoyance. I’m probably the least threatening person he’s been faced with.

“Hey, Steel.” A man walks into the room, glancing between us, and I recognize him as one of the two men who were standing at the bar earlier. “Ghost texted me to say we’ve got trouble.”

The man looks at the one standing beside Steel, who is still typing into his phone, and I assume that must mean he’s Ghost.

Eerie name, but strangely fitting.

Ghost doesn’t look up from his phone as he types away. He might not seem interested in the standoff between me and his president, but something about him tells me he’s still seeing everything.

“Trouble,” Steel repeats, not breaking our staring contest, while the intensity of his gaze has the hair on the back of my neck standing on its ends. “That depends.”

“On what?”

“Why she’s here.” Steel lifts off the wall, popping his knuckles and staring down at me.

I narrow my eyes. “If you must know—”

“That’s why I asked,” he cuts me off.

Impatient asshole.

My fingers clench as I try to keep an even tone. “I’m here to get something.”

I’m trying my hardest not to snap. Just because I’m putting up a strong front doesn’t mean I want to piss him off. The Twisted Kings aren’t known for mercy, and if Idon’t tread carefully, I’ll be carried out of here in a body bag.

“What would thatsomethingbe?” Steel asks, refusing to step back.

I can barely think with him cornering me against the wall.

Much less breathe.

“That’s none of your business.” I grit my teeth.

“See, that’s where you’re wrong, wildfire.” He ticks his head to the side to assess me. “Anything that happens onmy propertyis my business. Don’t like it? Then you shouldn’t have come here in the first place.”

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