Steel: A Great Wolves M.C. Romance

by Jayne Blue

  Fifteen

  Darby

  * * *

  It took a moment to get logged on to Steel’s computer. State-of-the-art, it was not. But I didn’t need state-of-the-art. I needed the internet, and at least, he had that.

  I checked my mail, and sure enough, there was an email from the Pete Jenkins.

  “I understand, can we reschedule?”

  I looked; it had been sent about two hours after our set meeting time.

  There was no apology for standing me up. Ugh, if it weren’t for bad luck, I’d have no luck at all on trying to move out into the world again.

  I considered the situation for a moment. Pete Jenkins was an associate of my parents. He knew them, he worked with them. I desperately wanted to follow in their footsteps and set up a life that they were meant to have, the life that had been cut short.

  Part of that was this business. I had grown up looking through old bookstores, hunting down treasure with my parents. And I wanted that again. I wanted to feel confident. And, for a moment, I had been excited about meeting Pete, and about taking baby steps toward successful management of my anxiety. And of course, all that had come crashing down.

  I hadn’t been able to even think about what came next in my life in the last few days. All I could see was Steel.

  But now, reading the email, looking around the trailer, it was clear: I needed to try to rebuild my progress. I needed to set up a meeting with Jenkins, and be a grown-up, instead of this stunted infant, caught between sixteen and whatever I was.

  Making love with Steel had gone a long way toward changing my world view. I experienced a physical pleasure that had me wishing he was back here right now, next to me. And if I could do that, open myself to him, trust him, maybe I was capable of more. Maybe I could overcome the last few horrific days and try again.

  I popped open the email and set up a meeting. I had been a princess in a tower with Uncle Reid, I wasn’t going to be a princess in a trailer with Steel. I had to forge a life, as normal a life as possible.

  I had worried, at first, that I didn’t have any of my medication, but as the hours ticked by since I’d been away from Uncle Reid’s, I realized how good I felt without it. I slept better, I woke better, and I ate pizza better. Maybe I could go without it?

  That idea though did worry me. Was I being cocky? Would I have a complete meltdown when I tried this again? I took a deep breath, and then another, and visualized the way I wanted to be, and feel. I could drive where I wanted to go, I could walk with purpose, I could have a business meeting, heck, even grocery shop.

  I let my imagination play out, but as I did, slowly, the fear and anxiety returned. And this time, instead of a faceless menace there were two men pretending to be police. There was a man in a mask, who wanted to…I stopped. No.

  I was supposed to visualize what I wanted, not give in to the terror I was feeling.

  I had a long way to go before that confident picture became real. I was going to that business meeting, I had to. If I didn’t, maybe I’d never try again.

  A knock at the trailer door started me out of my endless loop of hope crushed by fear.

  I walked over to the window and peeked out the blind. It was Bucky. Steel hadn’t wanted me to answer the door for anyone but him. I had met Bucky before, and Bucky was approved. I opened up the door, and he popped his head in.

  “I thought you were in there!” He walked in and made himself at home.

  “OMG, you cleaned the place. You take on new projects? You should see my place! I imagine it would gross you right out.” Bucky laughed at his own jokes and was averse to dead air.

  “Ha, well, I’m not in the market for a trailer cleaning job, but I’ll let you know.”

  “No, no. Of course not, you’re too pretty to be doing that kind of thing. I tell you; I do know a photographer if you want to model. Don’t tell Steel. It’s just big money, you know?”

  “Is there something I can help you with, other than modeling or housekeeping? You seem to really want to put me to work!” I said, and this time I was the one laughing at my own jokes.

  “Oh, no, sorry. Just got you some toothpaste! Oh, and I left my keys here the other night, uh, let me look. Don’t mind me.” I did as he said and refocused on Steel’s laptop. The meeting was set.

  I had no idea when Steel was coming back. But I had to do this. I had to force myself to be normal. It was what I wanted more than anything in the world.

  I was lost in my self-affirmation for who knows how long when Bucky reappeared.

  “Found ‘em!”

  “Oh, good.”

  “I’ll let you get back to work.”

  “No problem.” Bucky took off, and I was grateful for the quiet. My next issue was getting to this meeting. My car was back at my uncle’s. No biggie. Darn it, people did this kind of thing every day.

  A little more internet time and I was good to go.

  I searched the place for something to write with, found a pen, and wrote a note to Steel, on a paper plate. I was going. I’d be back. But it was important for me to keep moving forward.

  If I were lucky, this whole thing would take me less than two hours, and I’d be back before he even knew I was gone. I thought about his request that I stay put.

  My uncle had made the same request, many times, knowing that staying put was the only thing I could handle. I had to think of all the things that had happened as reasons why I could survive and not reasons to stay hidden.

  I felt stronger now. Less confused, weak, tired, all the things that worked with my agoraphobia to keep me inside. Something was changing, and I had to use it, learn from it, grow.

  A black car rolled up, right on time.

  I put the paper plate on the counter. Now that the counter was somewhat clean Steel couldn’t miss it.

  I didn’t have a key to his place and did worry for a moment that I couldn’t lock it up. Though anyone who decided to come here, on the Great Wolves M.C. property, to rob them had to have a serious death wish.

  I got in the car and told the driver where to go.

  I was heading back to the mall. I was going to shop a little, like I had with my mother so long ago now. I could buy a few clothes even, and then meet up with Jenkins. This was all so small, so nothing to most people in the world.

  I’d picked the East Town Mall for this meeting. I was feeling brave, but I wasn’t stupid. I didn’t want anything to trigger me into having an attack. And just about everything at Arbor Lane Mall had that potential, thanks to what went down there the other day.

  The Uber driver pulled up to the mall entrance.

  “Can I get you back here, in about two hours?” I handed him the fare.

  “No problem, especially with that kind of tip lady, thanks.” I smiled, and he pulled away. I was flying without a net now.

  I monitored my breathing and put my affirmation on replay in my head.

  “You can do this. You’re safe. You’re strong. You’re confident.”

  I continued the mantra as I walked into the mall.

  What do healthy people do at the mall? I asked myself.

  I decided that buying an outfit was better to focus on that the people bustling around me.

  I decided a new pair of jeans and a couple of blouses were a healthy distraction. And it actually worked.

  I got lost in the idea that I was shopping in real life and not online. The colors, the selection, the music; all of it was like a carnival of sights and sounds to me. I’d guarded myself against so much.

  I selected two outfits and moved on to the shoe store and then a jacket and finally some toiletries. Before I knew it, I was loaded down with bags, and it was time to meet Pete Jenkins.

  I found a table and was rearranging my bags when a man approached my table.

  “Darby Bishop?” I looked up, and there he was.

  “Mr. Jenkins?”

  “That’s me. Wow, you’re a perfect combo of your mom and dad.”

  “Thank you.
” And I indicated that he should sit.

  “And you’re following in their footsteps. They would be so proud. It was very sad, what happened.”

  I had been so isolated, so protective of my grief, that I had never really talked to anyone who knew my parents since they died. Talking about it at first was more than I could stand. And Uncle Reid respected my wishes. And, truth be told, Uncle Reid didn’t seem like he wanted to relive it either. My father was his brother and, well, he had his own sadness, I guessed.

  “Well, yes, terrible accident.”

  “Accident? Well, I wouldn’t put it that way. Did they ever find the driver?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “The driver, the one who ran them off the road?” It felt like he was speaking a different language or using words I couldn’t understand. Ran them off the road?

  “I, uh, refresh my memory?”

  Uncle Reid had told me my Dad had lost control on slick pavement and their car hit a tree. That they’d died instantly. And that the only thing to blame was the rain, or my dad, for driving too fast.

  “You know the story, but there was a major dent in the rear driver’s side panel and that second set of tires. It was clear back then someone ran them off the road. But the cops never solved that, eh?”

  “No, no, they didn’t.” I shook my head no. There was no investigation. It was an accident. I had been told that, over and over, by Uncle Reid. It was an accident, a terrible accident.

  “Shame, that’s a real shame.”

  “Yeah, a real shame.” I couldn’t focus on this meeting anymore, on book business, or the coffee in front of me. I had to find out the truth. Had someone tried to kill my parents? And why did Uncle Reid lie to me all this time?

  I felt the walls closing in on me. We were in a gigantic mall, but it felt small, and the air felt thick. There wasn’t enough of it. This meeting had triggered all my anxiety. Peter Jenkins’ words had shifted my reality again. Someone had run my parents off the road?

  I pulled myself back to the present, to the man in front of me. To the fact that I’d come here to try to move on. And yet, here I was, right back in the loop of my parent's death. Except it was much worse. With a huge effort, I looked at Mr. Jenkins and did my best to salvage this meeting. I wanted him to think I was someone he could do business with, and I was falling apart in chunks all over the food court tile.

  “I’m so sorry, I do have to go, but I hope we can do business, moving forward.”

  “Sure, here’s my card. If you’re half as good at finding rare books as your parents, we’re going to have a profitable relationship! And I understand, stuff comes up. Don’t worry about it, but your email was a little late before the last meeting. Give me more than a few hours next time.” Pete Jenkins smiled at me, and I tried to return his politeness. But my mind was racing.

  “Email? Uh, I’m sorry, it’s nothing. Thank you. I’ll be in touch.” We shook hands. I turned to go, fast. I had to find out more. I didn’t even know how. I hadn’t sent him an email. What was happening? Too many things didn’t add up right now. It was like trying to walk on a spinning turntable.

  “Darby, wait, your packages,” Mr. Jenkins called after me, and I stopped and turned around.

  “Where’s my head?” I scooped up all my shopping bags and headed back to the mall exit as fast as I could. As luck would have it, my Uber driver was there, waiting.

  “Thank God! You waited?”

  “Well, I did take one fare, but got back here early. Good timing?”

  “Yep, great timing.”

  “Back to that uh, trailer?”

  “Yeah, that’s right.” Part of me wanted to go back to Uncle Reid’s. I wanted to confront him with the million questions I had. But something stopped me.

  For the second time now, I realized that lies and Uncle Reid went hand in hand. He sent a cop to me that tried to kill me. I knew without a doubt he had sent that email to cancel my appointment.

  And he’d lied to me about my own parent’s death.

  I hoped he had an explanation. He’d always tried to take care of me. He’d opened his home to me and took me in when I had nowhere to go.

  But since the moment I’d left the house to meet Pete Jenkins, a few days ago, nothing but lies and danger had followed.

  There was too much to sort through. I needed to talk it out. I had to be sure it was real, and not my diseases lying to me. Or withdrawal from my medication. It was all so crazy.

  I would go back to the trailer. I’d talk to Steel. He knew what to do in every situation I’d found myself in.

  Once I told him, he’d help me sort it out.

  I sat in the Uber and worked on my breathing, I actively tried to calm down, to think. I was confused, angry, and frustrated but the overriding emotion was a drive to find the truth.

  Not once did I think about my success at the mall.

  I hadn’t had a panic attack. I hadn’t been hurt or kidnapped. The sky hadn’t fallen down on me.

  And yet it did. My world had been turned upside down.

  But I was okay. And more than okay. I had a mission, and no amount of anxiety or panic was going to stop me from finding out what happened to my parents.

  Sixteen

  Steel

  * * *

  The first answers weren’t satisfactory. But the second answers, with the benefit of my fist in the gut and after Ridge’s literal arm twisting, produced a lead.

  “Look, yes, four girls were here. Stop. Let go.”

  The sleazeball motel owner was face down on the concrete, so it was somewhat hard to hear. Ridge let the pressure up he’d been applying to motel owner’s arm, and we got a clearer picture.

  “Hey, I’m not involved. I can’t help who rents my rooms. I’m a businessman making a living.”

  “Such a saint.”

  “Hey, it’s a free country. People do what they do.”

  “Right, I’m sure George Washington would approve,” I said.

  “You’re just gonna continue to do business as usual.” Ridge outlined what we expected from the owner of the Night Shade. We expected him to keep his mouth shut about the fact that we there watching whatever business went on in those rooms.

  “You bring in cops, I’m, I’m dead.” Vince Donovan lost some bravery when it dawned on him all the ways he was fucked.

  “You really don’t have much say in this. You do business as usual and don’t say a damn thing. Maybe you live.” Ridge was great at negotiation.

  “And that’s our final offer,” I said.

  “Alright, yes, I saw nothing, heard nothing. Business as usual.”

  “Good.”

  We left Vince Donovan, owner-operator of the Night Shade, terrified and clear that we’d rip his arms off if he crossed us. I was convinced he was scared enough to let his normal trafficking operation continue, but with our eyes on it. Which was what we needed if we were going to follow this operation and get a handle on what was happening to the girls.

  I called Sawyer on our way back.

  “We’re all set. He won’t be a problem. Yeah, tonight.”

  We were going to keep eyes on this place. It was our best lead. The cops, who I didn’t trust in this case, may have been watching, but they’d done nothing. And maybe that was because of Detective Finch. Maybe he was the one in charge of this particular sting. I suspected he had a lot invested in letting this trafficking go on under his nose.

  If my crew saw shit go down, we’d follow, and then we’d bust up the place, for good. I was looking forward to it.

  It was time to get back to Darby.

  I had been on club business, which of course, thanks to Darby, was also personal business, but I needed to have her close again.

  These emotions were a surprise to me, something I’d never felt before. I wanted to be sure she was okay, see her smile—shit, just talk to her.

  She’d given me something no one else ever had.

  I was her first. And I didn’t take it lightly.
I knew it was important and something I didn’t want to fuck up. I wanted to show her more, appreciate every inch of her. I wanted to give her the world.

  But that was impossible. There were so many things tangled up in this situation right now, I knew we were on thin ice. She’d figure out I was not her level, and probably would have already if life had been normal. Though, I supposed, if life had been normal, we’d have never crossed paths. And I wouldn’t have a chance in hell with someone like her. Someone perfect in my eyes.

  We pulled closer to my place, and I was not looking forward to telling her I was going to be spending the night staking out the motel. I hoped she would understand. Keeping her safe, in the long run, meant figuring out how the fuck she had gotten messed up with these traffickers. It meant stopping them.

  Ridge and I slowed and cut our engines as we approached my trailer.

  I was going to say something to him, but fucking hell broke loose.

  The sound blew out my ears. The air and heat flung me back over my bike and knocked it to the ground. Dust, debris, a roar of flames: all of it made it hard to tell what had just happened. My ears were ringing.

  I staggered to my feet. My trailer had exploded! My brain worked to process that information but then in the next second, I realized, Darby!

  “DARBY!” I screamed her name and headed toward into the cloud of smoke and fire and the fucking shell that was my trailer.

  “DARBY!” I yelled it again and felt a hand on my back. Ridge, he was holding me back. GWMC brothers were running toward us now.

  “What the fuck?” Ryder asked as club members approached the scene, jaws dropped. I didn’t have an answer to the what the fuck question. I was sick and felt like I might vomit in the dirt.

  “Darby, she was in there.” I spat out the words and moved forward again.

  “No one in there could survive,” Ridge said to me, and Ryder moved in. Both of them had one of my shoulders. I felt my stomach turn over. I was going to puke. Oh my God.