Page 17 of The Vows We Keep
“Our club what?” I really want him to finish that sentence.
Because the look on his face is one of shock.
“Our club what, King?”
“Do you know what my real name is?” he asks.
“No. Just your road name, King.”
“I’m fed up with you calling me King. My real name is Colton.”
“You ever shorten it to Colt?”
Colton nods. “My mom used to all the time. Unless she was pissed. Then I got the full version.”
It reminds me of my youth. “Papá would do that too. You were about to say what your club would do?”
“We actually have a long history of fathers and sons taking key positions. But I get how it’s troubling if one family occupies too many. Makes voting harder. Makes decisions lean one way. Starts to feel more like aGodfathermovie than a motorcycle club.”
I scroll through my photos. “This is Felipe.”
“This the guy you slept with? I hate that he’s a good-looking fucker.” He rubs his fingertip over the ridge where his scar crosses his upper lip. “Pretty obvious why you slept with him.”
A sigh escapes me. “Are you proud of everyone you’ve ever had sex with?”
Colton laughs. It’s rich and full. “Fuck no. I’ve made some highly questionable decisions.”
I tap my middle finger on the tabletop gently. “Yeah, well. I’ve made some of those too.”
“Heard you talking, when I was coming around. All it took was a blow job to get the intel on King—me.”
“Yes and no. The club knew I wanted my father home, but they kept dismissing my questions as confidential club business. They did that for months. I felt there was something a little off about it. Intuition maybe. There’s been a little voice that told me it wasn’t all as it seems. And Felipe seemed to be the only way to get answers. He’s wanted to get me into bed for a long while. I capitulated to find out what I needed.”
“I know that feeling, of listening to your gut. Pretty certain if you gave me a blow job, I’d forget my own name too.”
“Guess we’ll never know.” I redirect attention to the image. “You’re sure you never saw Felipe?”
“I am. Which is a shame because I suddenly have the problematic territorial urge to slice his dick off and feed it to him.”
His words catch me off guard, but I focus on finding the next photograph.
Fifteen minutes later, we’ve gone through the eight men who left the Los Reyes clubhouse, and I’m no closer to understanding what happened to my father.
“What about the other three?” Colton asks. “Who could they be?”
“Can you describe them to me? Maybe I’ll recognize them.”
“Can do one better. If you let me untie my other hand, I can draw you a sketch.”
Neva isn’t back yet. But even though I have the advantage of weapons, I know he’s not going to hurt me. “Fine,” I say. “Just, don’t give me a reason to kill you, Colton. Because I will if I have to.”
A strong hand withIOMCtattooed across the knuckles unties the other. I move to the other side of the table, out of his reach. If he tries anything, I’ll be far enough away to react before he gets to me.
He stretches his hands over his head, and his dark hoodie lifts, revealing tight abs covered in ink. I can’t make out the design, but it’s all black and grey.
“You want me to take the whole thing off so you can have a better look?” Colton asks.
Heat hits my cheeks at the embarrassment of being caught staring. “No.”
