Page 96 of Cold Bastard
I paused, swallowing hard. “He tried so hard. He really did. But I was... difficult. Willful. Stubborn as hell. I got into fights at school. Talked back to the officers. Snuck out at night. Stole bikes from the garage and took them for joyrides before I even had a license.”
A bitter laugh escaped my throat. “Everyone said I had my father’s temper. My mother’s recklessness. Like those traits were something to be proud of. Like being a walking disaster was some kind of legacy.”
Nano’s fingers traced small circles against my scalp, and I closed my eyes, letting the sensation ground me.
“But the truth was, I wasn’t angry. I wasn’t rebelling. I was just... searching. For something. Foranythingthat would make me feel like I belonged somewhere. Like I was supposed to be alive when they weren’t.”
My confession tasted like ash.
“I grew up in that clubhouse. Surrounded by leather and motorcycles and men who would have killed for me without hesitation. But I always felt like an outsider. Like I was watching everyone else live their lives while I was just... waiting. For something I couldn’t name. For someone who would make mefeel like I was home. Oscar tried to understand. He really did. But I didn’t know how to explain to my brother that I felt like a ghost in my own life. That I constantly searched for something that didn’t exist in the only place I had ever known.”
My voice dropped lower, darker. “So, when I turned eighteen, I left. Packed a bag in the middle of the night and disappeared. Just like your brother, Travis. Just like everyone who couldn’t stand to stay in one place anymore. I told myself I was looking for something better. Something real. But the truth was, I was running. From the memories. From the expectations. From the constant reminder that I was alive, and they weren’t. I bounced around for a while. Sioux Falls. Omaha. Denver. Worked shitty waitressing jobs and slept wherever I could when I couldn’t afford rent. Told myself I was free. That I was finally living my own life. And then I ended up in Rapid City. Got a job at some dive bar. Found a shitty apartment. Started dancing at the Prancing Pussycat because the money was better than anything else I could get.”
My throat tightened. “That’s where I met him. Michael.”
Nano’s entire body went still against mine.
“He was... charming. At first. Attentive. He would come to the club every night that I worked. Tip me well. Ask me questions about myself like he actually gave a shit about the answers. And I was so fucking desperate for someone to see me. To reallyseeme that I fell for it. Fell for him. Thought I’d finally found what I had been searching for all those years.”
My voice cracked. “I thought he was the answer. The thing that would make me feel whole. The person who would make me feel like I belonged somewhere. But he wasn’t. He was just another predator. Another man who saw a broken girl and decided to exploit her.”
My memories come back in sharp, painful fragments. “It started small. Little criticisms. Comments about my dancing.About my body. About how I wasn’t trying hard enough to please him. And I believed him. Believed that if I just worked harder, if I just did better, he would go back to being the man I thought he was. But he never did. He just got worse. Meaner. He would fuck me roughly. Rougher than I wanted, and then blame me for not being able to take it. He’d tell me I was frigid. Broken. That no other man would ever want me.”
Nano’s breathing has changed. Faster. Angrier. “And then he started bringing other girls home. Dancers from the club. He would fuck them in front of me. Make me watch. Tell me I should be grateful he was teaching me how to be better. Sometimes he would hurt them. Really hurt them. And they would cry, beg him to stop, and he would just laugh. Tell them they were lucky he was paying attention to them at all. And I watched. I watched and did nothing. Because I was too scared. Too broken. Too convinced that this was what I deserved.”
My shame is suffocating. “One night, it was maybe three months before I stole the money, Michael had been particularly rough. With me. With one of the other girls. I was lying in bed afterward, trying not to cry, trying not to think about what had just happened. And I heard him. In the other room. Talking to someone. Another biker. I couldn’t see who it was, but I could hear their voices through the wall.”
Nano’s hand stilled in my hair. “Michael was handing him money. A lot of it. I could hear the bills rustling. And then he said—” My throat closed up, but I forced the words out, anyway. “He said, ‘Make damn sure Fire doesn’t survive the attack.’”
The effect was immediate. Nano’s entire body went rigid. His hand tightened in my hair. Not painful, but with sudden, absolute tension. His breathing stopped, but I continued on, “It was then I realized the truth of him. What he really was. A monster. And if I didn’t get away from him, he would pay someone to kill me too.”
And then he moved. He pulled back, his hands gripping my shoulders, his eyes boring into mine even though I could barely see him in the darkness. “FIRE?” His voice was deadly quiet. Controlled. But underneath it, I heard something else. Something dangerous. “You said FIRE.”
I nodded, confused by the intensity of his reaction. “Yes. That’s what Michael said. Why? Who or what is fire?”
“Alexandra.” My full name. Not Alex. Not baby.Alexandra. “Who is Michael? Where did you meet him?”
“I...” I swallowed hard, my heart suddenly racing. “I had just moved to Rapid City when I met him. At the Prancing Pussycat. Why? What does it matter?” But Nano was already moving. He was off the bed, crossing the room to where his dresser sat against the wall. He yanked open a drawer and pulled out a pair of sweatpants, then threw them at me.
“Get dressed,” he ordered, his voice harsh. Urgent.
“Nano, what—”
“Now, Alexandra.” The command in his voice left no room for argument. My hands shook as I pulled on the sweatpants, my mind racing. What the fuck did I just say? Who was Fire? Why did Nano look like he was about to murder someone?
The second the sweatpants were on, Nano’s hand closed around my wrist. Not gently. Not the way he had been touching me for the past hour. This was different. This was the dominant. The predator. This was the man who just fucked me in front of his entire club.
“Nano?”
But he was already pulling me toward the door, his grip iron-tight around my wrist. He yanked it open and dragged me into the hallway, his boots heavy against the floor. “Where are we going?” I demanded, trying to pull back. “What the fuck is happening?”
He didn’t answer. Just kept walking, pulling me behind him like I weighed nothing. Down the hallway. Toward the stairs. Toward the gathering room where the rest of the Brotherhood was probably still drinking and fucking and celebrating whatever the hell they were celebrating earlier.
“Nano, please.”
“Not now,” he snapped, his voice cold. Distant. The tenderness from moments ago evaporated completely, replaced by something hard and dangerous.
We hit the stairs, and he took them two at a time, forcing me to stumble after him. My bare feet slipped on the wood, but his grip kept me upright. Kept me moving. And as we descended into the noise and chaos of the clubhouse below, I realized with sudden, terrible clarity that I had inadvertently said something that was about to change my life forever.
