Cole
They were waiting for me.
Not subtle about it.
Three bikes out front that weren’t scheduled. Two trucks I didn’t recognise. The clubhouse door opened like an invitation or a warning.
Inside, the air felt tight.
Jax leaned against the bar, arms crossed. Rhea sat at the table near the window, fingers drumming once against the wood before going still when I walked in. The rest of the room pretended not to stare.
I shut the door behind me.
“What,” I said.
Jax didn’t smile. “You’ve been busy.”
“Yeah.”
“With her again.”
“Yeah.”
“With a custody fight brewing.”
Silence.
I stepped further in. “Say it.”
Rhea stood. “This isn’t about you getting laid.”
I didn’t react.
“This is about optics,” she continued. “A private investigator showed up here this morning.”
That made me pause
