Colt Book 3

The heat was burning my skin. The summer was conveniently hotter than normal. However, while the summer might be hot, I had never felt so cold-hearted.

I was getting through the days, but it was becoming harder to pretend I had my shit together, when I didn’t.

I was fading into a shell of the person I was. I’d stopped eating, because I couldn’t afford food.

On the days I did work a shift, I’d spent the night trying to make that small amount of money spread across all my expenses.

It was basically impossible, which was why, right then, I was staying at the cheap motel, knowing soon I wouldn’t even be able to afford the stained mattress.

I rolled over on the bed.

There was no air conditioning here, not even a fan. Just the sweat. Hell, the shower didn’t even work right; it either burned you or froze you.

So, I was thinking of a freezing shower when I was pulled back in time by seeing the teacup on the bedside table.

Why my mind was flooded with thoughts of her, I did not know. But just seeing that broken teacup brought back memories of her.

Rosemary was always twisted. God, she had to be to bring up Elliot. But she loved cups of tea, and I recalled a memory of her and me sitting on the porch of my and Elliot’s house, where I wanted for nothing.

She told me I was Elliot’s future.

My heart clenched at just the thought of Elliot’s name. He was out, and that scared the shit out of me.

Had me changing my name when I booked into this motel room.

Had me avoiding Scorp.

I sat up.

A pain would wash over me every time I thought of my brother.

Scorp had held Charlotte until the funeral director came to collect the body.

And just that memory brought on the bitter reminder—that I’d lost my family.

My mind turned to a chapter in my life that would forever haunt me. That being Colt Hudson. He disappeared after the shooting, and I personally thanked God for the day he walked out of my life.

Mind you, he disappeared after destroying everything I held dear.

The soft hum of a heartfelt classic song played in the background as the coffin lowered into the ground, putting Charlotte to an early rest.

The song spread grief across my brother’s face.

I watched the coffin lower, and memories flooded back to me of Scorp and Charlotte dancing to it on repeat the night Charlotte found out she was pregnant.

God, how she’d yelled at him, furious with him because she was scared he was going to leave.

She was scared of a future without him. Scorp had played that song and told her, in front of me, that he was the one scared of losing her.

She was his strength, and he needed her to stand by him. The song fit.

Charlotte shook her head, angry tears streaming down her face, and then she smiled from ear to ear as Scorp sang that song to her.

I had never seen my brother prouder than the moment when he was told she was pregnant.

I’d never seen him more in love either, and as I watched the coffin lower, I saw the coldness creep across his every feature.

I wasn’t just burying the woman I considered to be my sister. I was burying my brother as well. Because he was never coming back from this.

And Tess, she hadn’t said one word after losing Charlotte.

I was beginning to believe she might never speak again.

Not even Tess, his daughter, who was silently crying into my side, could rescue her father from the loss of his first love.

I didn’t know what to say. I felt partly to blame, for it had been Colt who’d taken Charlotte from this world. Colt, the man I loved, who was nothing but a soulless monster.

He was no devil, but he was a monster, one that didn’t even belong in hell as far as I was concerned.

Hell was too good of a place for him.

The emotion of losing Charlotte, but also my brother, gripped my heart, twisting it, turning it, squeezing it to the point that I couldn’t even cry.

While my brother was losing his humanity as the coffin went into the ground, it wasn’t just one life that had ended when Colt pulled that trigger.

He’d killed the life I wanted with him.

He murdered my brother’s humanity, and he ripped the mother of my niece from this world.

As far as I was concerned, Colt Hudson wasn’t dead, because, to be dead, he had to have once had a heart. And he never did, nor could he, for doing this to my family, to me.

Liquor was a weak man’s excuse to hide from problems they needed to face, problems that wouldn’t go away from drowning in a bottle of liquor.

In my case, I was on my second bottle.

The bartender had left it for me, sick of wasting his time coming back every few minutes to refill.

Every now and then, my mind would be pulled back in time, going back to Summer. It was like she was on a highlight reel in my head, and every time it played, I watched my mistakes add up.

One by one.

Club first, men second, her… Hell, she didn’t even make third, because my bike took priority as well.

How could I have been so deluded when it came down to what she really was?

She was the purpose I never had.

I was blinded by loyalty to a club that I ended up walking away from because, deep down, life was nothing without her.

“Nice tattoo.”

I didn’t glance up. She wasn’t talking to a biker, or a president, or a founding member.

She was speaking to a drunk in a bar.

One who’d killed the mother of a small child, one that had taken an innocent life from this world.

Breaking me.

I wasn’t anyone to be admired.

I once prided myself on good judgment—being able to put everyone before myself, being able to see what should happen, and knowing that once I made a decision, it would result in the desired outcome.

I looked down at the tattoo that Summer had designed.

It was slightly faded, but it shone with her excellent talent and was the only thing I had left of her. I valued this tattoo more than I valued my brotherhood ink.

The life fading from Charlotte’s eyes appeared in my mind, and I reached for the glass.

The life fading from Charlotte’s eyes was forever on repeat.

Every time I went down the rabbit hole of what my life had become, from the good memories of Summer and me to the building of the brotherhood, it ended with watching the life fade from Charlotte’s eyes.

I had spent my life making sure women didn’t pay the price for crimes they had never committed.

Yet here I sat, a man whose gun had ended the life of a single mother who had done nothing to deserve it.

As the weeks passed, so did my desire to keep track of them.

Each day that passed meant another day away from her, another day when I wouldn’t touch her, another day that only increased the distance between us.

And I had one person to blame—myself. The hatred I had for myself was all consuming. Because, no matter how much time passed, I had killed a woman.

I’d killed the closest person Summer had to a sister.

Fuck, Charlotte was basically her sister, and I’d killed her.

My hand wrapped around the glass. I’d come to Reno to hide from my problems, but they had followed me here.

I’d always been fucking cold, but this lifeless soul I was now scared even me, because my purpose was gone.

It had taken me losing her to realize that she was my purpose, not the club.

I’d thrown hours of time and commitment into building a legacy when, really, she was my legacy.

I emptied the remainder of the bottle into the glass, hoping silently that I wouldn’t wake up come morning, because I had nothing to fucking live for.

There was no coming back from this.

I’d walked out of the club, killed a woman, and also killed the likelihood of Summer ever letting me back in.

I was basically buried alive, and my fucked-up deluded thoughts of what was important had dug the grave for me.

“Feel that?” The woman spoke again.

For some reason, she was sitting at my table. I’d forgotten she had even spoken before.

“That’s the summer breeze for you, so hot it has you wishing for winter again.”

I ignored her. She had no idea she had just said a name.

“Will you look at that? With Scorpio in my third house, I’ve become chatty.”

My eyes widened.

That wasn’t a fucking coincidence.

I looked up, and my eyes locked with hers. The smirk was clear on her face, but there was a coldness in her eyes.

“Hello, Colt.”