Steele

by Stacy Gail

  Shit.

  “Goddamn it.” Obviously Twist’s thoughts were going down the same path as his. “Let me at least pay the rent for the next two months, Es. It’s my fault you were dragged up here.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. I’m responsible for my own actions, not you.”

  “Yeah, but—”

  “Not to mention you just got married and you’re getting ready to give Angel the biggest birthday surprise she’ll probably ever receive—a surprise that’s going to take a huge amount of money to pull off. You don’t need another expense added to that.”

  “But it’s my fault—”

  “Stop it, Twist. You’ve never been at fault for anything.”

  There was a heavy beat of silence. “I guess I do have a habit of thinking of you in terms of blame and fault.”

  “Yeah, you do, and it needs to stop. I don’t want to be that burden for you, okay? I just want to be your irritating baby sister.”

  Steele didn’t have to guess what they were talking about. It had been Twist’s trusted friend, Zane Hildebrandt, who had attacked Essie, scarring the Santiago siblings deeper than any eye could see.

  “Trust me, you’re still my irritating baby sister.” There was a sound of movement, and he tensed in case Twist moved to the back stairs where he was, rather than using the stairs leading to the front entrance. “And I’m your overbearing big brother, so that means I’m still going to point out to Payne that this setup he’s got going—while great PR for the House—is putting a big financial strain on you, and that’s not right.”

  “You want to help me? Bring me my sketchbook that I left in your booth, and my life will be complete. I told you before we left the House that I needed it.”

  “Getting you stitched up was more of a priority to me than running back upstairs to get your fucking book, so pipe the hell down. I’ll get it to you tomorrow.”

  “Ugh, you’ve got lame priorities, dumbass.”

  “Don’t call me dumbass, dumbass.”

  “I’m telling Mom you called me dumbass, dumbass.”

  “You started it, dumbass.”

  Essie’s laughter swelled up, filling the hallway with warmth and light. Incredible, he thought, shaking his head. She had the best damn laugh he’d ever heard. She should do it all the time.

  In that moment, he heartily hated a world that had tried so hard to crush her laughter into silence.

  He listened to the siblings say their farewells, then came around the corner when he could no longer hear Twist’s footfalls down the front set of stairs. He knocked on Essie’s door, then made sure he was back far enough so that she could see who it was through the peephole. When she cracked open the door with the thin and useless chain still attached, he backed all the way up to the other side of the hallway to give her whatever space she needed.

  “Good girl,” he said before she could speak. “You didn’t assume I was your brother returning for some reason. This building might just be mediocre when it comes to security, but there’s nothing wrong with how you take care of yourself.”

  “Steele?” The amber eye he could see went wide before the door closed. There was a rattle of chain, and then the door opened once more. She slipped through the gap as if the door could only open so far and stood next to it as she closed it firmly and with an obvious message—No One Allowed. “This is a surprise. Wait, did you just call me girl?”

  “Good woman sounds like weird pilgrim-speak, so you’re just going to have to find a way to cope.”

  “I don’t know if I can.”

  “I have faith in you.” Grinning at her smartass tone, he nodded toward her hand now wrapped in white gauze. “How’s the hand? Did it need stitches?”

  “Stitches are so last century, dude. All the cool kids get glued together nowadays. You should try it.”

  He grimaced. He’d had enough of being put back together by doctors for one lifetime. “Thanks, but I think that’s one fad I’d like to skip. How’re you feeling otherwise?”

  “A little throbby, but otherwise I’m peachy.” She glanced in the direction of her apartment door. “Um, I’m sorry I’m being rude by not inviting you in, but that’s something I pretty much don’t do anymore.”

  “Don’t apologize, I understand. In fact,” he went on, leaning back against his side of the hallway wall and making himself comfortable, “this is probably a great time to talk to you about this apologizing thing you’ve got going on.”

  She blinked. “What apologizing thing?”

  “You apologize when it’s not necessary. Like now, and earlier today. Those assholes bowled you over in their hurry to be the first one inside, yet the moment you were on your feet you were apologizing for being in their way.”

  “Well… yeah, that was kind of stupid. I just hate the feeling that I’ve inconvenienced someone, or that I’ve been a burden somehow.” Then she did a little double-take. “Wait, why were those two guys having a race to get inside in the first place? Aren’t they kind of old for that sort of thing?”

  “Amateur paparazzi.” He didn’t bother containing his sneer. As far as he was concerned, those assclowns were lucky they could still walk. “They’d heard that Prince Charles had come in for a tattoo and wanted to be the first one to get video proof of it. It wasn’t Prince Charles,” he added when she opened her mouth, then had to chuckle at her pout of disappointment. Did she have any idea how adorable her expressions were? “There’s always been a problem at the House with people trying to sneak in and get photos or video of the star-class clientele that go there for ink, but the rumor of a Royal was enough to send those idiots into a frenzy. A frenzy that they’re now regretting.”

  “Can’t say I’m too sorry about that.”

  “Good, because I’m not in the mood to hear another apology for someone else’s bad behavior. What I am in the mood for is to see your shitty day end up on a brighter note, so I brought you something.”

  Her brows went up. “You brought me something?”

  “Yeah.” He’d kept his hands behind his back as he leaned against the wall, but now he stood up straight and showed her the small gift shop bag. “You wanted that mug, so there’s no reason why you shouldn’t have it.”

  “Steele.” Her expression was priceless as she too, pushed away from her patch of wall to accept the bag he held out. “You went back and bought another mug?”

  “Yeah, but I’m not sure I got the right one. I can exchange it if it’s not right.”

  “It’s perfect.” She said it before she even got it out of the bag, and he couldn’t help but shake head. God, she was sweet. He remembered all the times he’d brought Apolline gifts, and while she’d always shown gratitude, it couldn’t hold a candle to Essie’s enthusiasm…

  No.

  The door on his mental vault slammed so loudly he was surprised it didn’t echo throughout the building. He didn’t think about Apolline. He didn’t let his old life surface, ever. It was gone. His whole world was gone. All that was left was the empty shell of the man he’d once been.

  But for the first time in four years, as he watched Essie Santiago look at the mug as if it were a newborn, that bleak emptiness seemed somehow… less.

  “Wow.” She looked up at him with a smile so brilliant it rivaled the sun. “Oh, wow.”

  Hell yeah, oh wow, was all he could think, staring at her. It was just a stupid mug, not even wrapped up with ribbons and girlie shit. But she made him feel like he’d given her the best gift in the history of gift-giving. “Does that mean I got it right?’

  “You totally got it right.” She hugged the mug to her chest. He had to consciously stop himself from reaching out to do the same thing with her. “Thank you. You didn’t have to do that.”

  “I wanted to.”

  “Why? You’re not the one who broke it.”

  “I still wanted to.” He hadn’t bothered to analyze why. He’d just needed to put things back the way she’d wanted them. Since she’d wanted the damn mug, then t
hat was what she needed to have.

  “You must be one of those rare beings I’ve heard about—a genuinely nice guy.”

  “They exist, I guess, but I don’t qualify.” It was important that she got that through her head straight away. He didn’t want to disappoint her somewhere down the line. “I just wanted to cheer you up after you fainted in my arms.”

  A dull red washed over her face, and her smile turned into an embarrassed grimace. “Let me say this loud and clear—I didn’t faint.”

  “Looked that way to me.”

  “My legs stopped working, I’ll admit it, but I didn’t lose consciousness. I remember everything.”

  “So do I.” To give her plenty of time to step away, he raised his hand and brushed it over her hair. He felt her start, but he had to smile when she didn’t back away. She had more spine than probably even she knew, which was good to know. That was something he could work with. “You went so pale you freaked me out. Then when you began to fall face-first into the floor… that scared the crap out of me, Essie, I’m not going to lie.”

  “I can’t believe a little thing like that scared you. I get the feeling you’re too tough for anything to scare you.”

  “I’ve been through a hell of a lot during my time on earth, and a lot of it would turn anyone’s hair white. From being raised by a fire-and-brimstone preacher who made me handle venomous snakes, to being sniped at from a thousand meters by an enemy I never saw, to having the world blow up around me and getting half my face shredded, I know what fear is. Fear and I go way back. But I have to admit, I can’t remember ever having fear hit so fast it made my hands cold. That’s what happened when you took a header today. I was positive I wouldn’t be able to reach you in time.”

  “Oh.” It was little more than a whisper. “I’m so sorry I scared you.”

  “Don’t apologize.” His hand moved from her hair to her mouth to stem another unnecessary apology. Again she jolted at the unexpected move, but just like before she didn’t step away. Good. As he slid his hand along her petal-soft cheek to cup her jaw, he got right up into her personal space. She needed to get used to him being there, so now was as good a time as any to get that ball rolling. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

  “I just…I have a problem with blood. It’s not that I’m some weak female or something like that. When I was attacked, I almost drowned in my own blood after my sinus cavity was partially caved in. Seeing it, smelling it when I wasn’t properly braced for it…”

  “You don’t have to explain, sweetness.” Rage at the thought of what she’d been put through tore him up inside, but he kept his touch gentle as his thumb caressed her cheek. “And I could never think you’re weak. Don’t forget, I know you’re a fighter.”

  That luscious mouth again gave him the gift of her smile. “And you’re a good man.”

  Damn. “No.”

  She shook her head. “Sometimes I have trouble believing there are still good people in the world. But I always hope there are, and I’m glad I do. You’re proof that I’m right.”

  “I told you. I’m not known for being nice.”

  “Then maybe it’s something I bring out in you.”

  “Maybe.” But as he stood there he had to admit that niceness wasn’t what she brought out in him. He doubted she’d label him as a “nice” guy if she knew that simply standing this close to her made his skin tight and feverish and his stomach muscles clench. A nice guy would put a leash on his response to a woman like Essie, but as blood heated and his balls grew heavy with carnal need he knew he wasn’t going to even try. He was going to taste her sweetness, and by damn, he was going to enjoy every last—

  The door opposite Essie’s snapped open.

  “Oh! Wow. Hi there.” A woman with streaky blonde hair and a drooling, fist-chewing baby on her hip appeared in the hallway, even as Essie stepped back. “Essie, I was just coming over to see if you were home, and uh, obviously you are. Am I interrupting anything?”

  “No.” Steele took a retreating step and hoped his grip on his sanity would return with the increased distance. Of all the women in the world, Essie Santiago was the one woman he should never play games with. He might have been called a monster in his lifetime, and even he thought of himself as heartless. But only a truly heartless monster would get tangled up with the likes of Essie while knowing he had nothing to give in return. “I’ll leave you ladies to it. Keep your hand elevated if the throbbing gets worse, okay? And ice would feel pretty good on it too, to keep the swelling down.”

  “Right.” Her amber eyes glowed when she smiled at him one last time. “Thanks again for the mug.”

  “You’re welcome.” With a nod to Essie’s neighbor, he headed for the back stairs and tried not to think about what he’d be doing now to that pretty mouth of hers if they hadn’t been interrupted.

  Yeah.

  He definitely wasn’t a nice man.

  Essie had every intention of watching Steele’s retreating back while savoring the tingle where his hand had rested. Then she felt the weight of her friend’s gaze, and she forced herself to turn back to her apartment. “You were coming over? Everything okay?”

  “Yeah, I was just popping over to see if you were interested in joining us for dinner, but never mind that.”

  Here it comes. “That’s nice of you, but my brother was a sweetheart and took me out to eat after I got my hand glued back together. Would you like something to drink? I have—”

  “No, I don’t want tea or soda or a pork chop, or whatever it was you were about to offer.” With Dillon riding her hip, Carla skirted around the cutting table to stand next to the dressmaker’s dummy. It was currently clothed in what Essie now thought of as the snowflake shirt, with a bandage-style bodice and cutout sleeves that had turned out better than even she had envisioned. Originally she’d had the multi-sized snowflakes mirror Angel’s tattoo design, but before she’d had the fabric laser-cut, she’d had an inspiration and made each flake layers of a stylized version of the House Of Payne logo. She’d given the local textile specialist half a dozen pages out of her loose-leaf sketchbook to have several yards in cotton, leather and fleece to be either cut or engraved, something she’d never worked with before. It had cost a pretty penny, but the 3D effects were so spectacular, it had all been worth it.

  Essie sighed, set her new mug on the counter and opened the small refrigerator. “I’d hardly offer you a pork chop to drink.”

  “What you can offer me is a whole lot of answers.”

  “Rosebud. Forty-two. Han shot first. There is no Dread Pirate Roberts. Harry was a Horcrux. I could keep this up all night, you know.”

  “Great answers, but they don’t match my questions.”

  “What are your questions?” As if she didn’t know.

  “Who was that man-and-a-half? Is he normally a face-toucher, or is this something unusual? Why did he give you a mug when there are better gift alternatives, like chocolate or diamonds? What happened to your hand?”

  “It’s been an eventful day.” Grabbing up a bottled water, Essie gave in to the inevitable and rounded a sewing machine to curl up on the sleeper couch. She’d folded the squeaky bed away a few days ago for more room while she worked, and hadn’t yet had the energy to pull it back out. “Long story short, I cut my hand on a busted mug. That’s the replacement.”

  Carla joined her on the couch to gently bounce Dillon on her knees. “So why did the face-toucher give you a new mug?”

  “His name is Steele—”

  “You’re kidding.”

  “Ezekiel Steele,” Essie went on without missing beat, “and he replaced my broken mug because he’s a nice guy. And I’m not sure why he was touching my face, but it felt kind of sweet, so I let him do it.” Actually it had felt more than sweet, and since she could still feel where he’d touched, she had to stop herself from checking to see if she’d somehow been marked. “Does that answer all of your questions?”

  “Not even close.” When Carla real
ized her son was starting to look seasick, she stopped the knee-bouncing and tucked him in close for a cuddle. “Who is he, seriously? I thought I knew everyone you know in Chicago, but I definitely don’t know Mr. Ezekiel Steele. I think I’d remember a dude who’s six and half feet tall.”

  “I don’t think he’s that tall, and he’s in charge of the security over at House Of Payne.”

  Carla’s dark brows shot up. “Security? Girl, I’ve never seen a rent-a-cop like him before. That guy looked like he could take on Gigantor and win.”

  “I get the feeling Steele’s a lot more than a rent-a-cop.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, for instance, today he and his team were calmly going about handling the security detail for one of the English Royals coming in for ink—”

  “Omigod, who?”

  “I never found out.” And seriously, her curiosity was killing her. “See? That’s how good Steele’s security is. He actually works for a place called Private Security International, and apparently they’re subcontracted to keep everything locked down over at the House. I doubt the Secret Service could do any better.”

  Carla wrinkled her nose. “So, as long as this Steele dude’s on the job, we won’t get any juicy gossip or out-of-focus and totally invasive celebrity snapshots from inside the most famous tattoo studio in the world?”

  “That’s about the size of it.”

  “That’s no fun. Does he at least frisk people when they walk in? That’d be something, at least.”

  “Sorry, hon. Not a grope to be had.”

  “That is just so wrong. How did the two of you get to be so chummy?”

  Essie blinked. “I wouldn’t say we were chummy.”

  “Es, he gave you a mug and was touching your face. Either that’s chummy or weird. Which is it?”

  Point to Carla. “Steele was in charge of doing the background checks on the fashion designer contestants. When I found out that a background check was going to be done on me, I very nearly quit the contest, but he stopped me. Come to find out, he already knew all about me, and basically thought I was wigging out over nothing. He even said I’d be stupid to walk away.”