He pulled his hair back and secured it with a tie, then switched on the ignition. His younger sister drove him crazy. She’d had four children by four different men, and she acted like they were such an inconvenience in her life. He felt sorry for his three nephews and niece.
What a fucking mess life is right now.
He pulled out of the parking lot and sped toward the reservation, wanting to see his mother. He may even run into Breanna. The thought of seeing her in her professional clothes, her golden hair tumbling down her back, made his dick twitch.
On second thought, it’d be best if I don’t see her.
The road to the reservation was two lanes that cut right through the desert. The sprinkling of sagebrush and yucca plants on the red, rocky sand stretched for miles while the majestic San Juan Mountains loomed in the background, some of the higher peaks dusted in white powder. The contrast between the desert and the high mountains was one of the reasons Steel never wanted to leave the area. He loved the desolation of the parched desert and the richness of the mountains.
The reservation was smack-dab in the middle of the desert off the main road, marked by a wooden sign with black letters reading “Navajo Tribe—Ancestral Reservation Area.” Located on the reservation, or “rez” as the residents referred to it, was a gas station and a small convenience store. The lack of businesses and economic development were some of the major factors in creating the extreme poverty that was rampant on the reservation.
Parcels of green grass dotted the desolate landscape. As Steel rode deeper into the reservation, some of the run-down houses and junked-up cars made him remember why he couldn’t wait to move away from the crushing poverty. As he turned down one of the streets, he spotted his dad with his young wife who was bursting with a child. His stomach turned and he darted his gaze away from his dad, not acknowledging him as the older man whistled and waved.
His father had cheated on his mother since about the time their sister was born. It could’ve been sooner, but that was the earliest memory Steel had of seeing his father kissing and touching other women. His mother had simply accepted that her husband could not be monogamous, even though he could tell it killed her each time his father spruced himself up and went out to meet one of his ladies.
For Steel, it was bad enough that the philandering made his mother unhappy, but it was the humiliation his father subjected her to that made Steel hate him. He’d openly parade his women in front of her, even having them spend the night while his mother would share the bed with her children. Sometimes the sound of his father fucking one of his sluts would keep Steel awake, but most of the times his mother’s quiet crying kept him from sleeping, anger and sadness battling inside him as he listened to her whimpers.
When Steel had reached fifteen years old, he finally confronted his father and told him that he could fuck whichever whore he wanted, but not in front of his mother. His father, older and worn down by years of heavy drinking, balked and then threatened to beat the shit out of him. Steel, at nearly six feet, had towered over his father. The glint of hatred shining in his eyes must have caused his father concern because he’d just cussed him out and stormed out of the house. But he never brought another woman into the house again.
Three years later, his father moved out of the house and took up residence with another woman he’d been banging on and off for two years. His mother had been devastated that her husband had left her, and she’d never gotten over it. Since he’d left, his father had lived with several women over the years until he’d married the year before. His marriage had been a double whammy for Steel’s mother, since it closed any hope she’d held out for a reconciliation with her husband. To top it off, the woman he’d married was the daughter of Shimá’s best friend.
Steel couldn’t see what the young woman saw in his dad. It wasn’t his money, since his lazy-ass father hadn’t worked a proper job since Steel was born. His father, Irish on both sides of his family, came from Chicago and graduated from Northwestern with a degree in accounting. He’d gotten a job in Durango, a city about an hour away from Alina, and that’s where he’d met Steel’s mother. She’d been working at one of the restaurants he’d frequented. They dated and his mother got pregnant, so his father had married her. He never let her or Steel forget that he’d married her only because she’d been pregnant and he was a gentleman.
His father had worked twice a year, selling cards for Easter and Christmas. The fucker would raise himself from his chair, don a suit, cap his scotch bottle, and for two weeks he’d go to neighboring towns selling cards to various stores and residents. Then he’d come back exhausted, all his money practically spent on women and booze, giving the last few dollars to his wife. The rest of the year he’d spent sitting on an overstuffed chair, philosophizing about life in between gulps of scotch, fucking any woman who’d have him, and beating his children.
Steel’s mom worked as a certified nursing assistant in one of the nursing homes in town, and if money was real tight, she’d pick up a second job at Leroy’s Diner on Main Street. When Steel turned twelve, he started working at a horse ranch, keeping the job until he left Alina to go to Pinewood Springs. His brother also worked. The only two who didn’t work were his sister and father.
And his dad had the goddamn audacity to whistle and wave to him? Fuck him. Probably wants to show off that he can still knock up a woman. If I were him, I’d wonder if it’s mine.
Steel parked in front of a neatly kept white brick house. He’d grown up in that house, but his mother was fastidious, so it looked like it was brand new. Steel paid for people to mow and water the lawn, replace the roof, and maintain both the exterior and interior of the home.
He took the steps two at a time, knocking lightly on the front door before he entered. His mom was in her recliner, head back and eyes closed. His gaze swept over her, taking in her slackened, weary features and her thinning gray hair. His heart clenched at the sight. The strong woman with long black hair and bright dark eyes had been replaced by a weathered woman whose eyes no longer sparkled. Work, worry, disappointment, and heartbreak had taken their toll on her. His father had done that to her.
“Oh, Shimá, I’ll never understand how you can still love the worthless sack of shit. You should’ve thrown his ass out years ago. Look what loving him has done to you.”
His mom stirred and her eyes fluttered open. She blinked rapidly as if trying to focus her gaze on him, then smiled. “Shiyáázh. What a pleasant surprise. I must’ve dozed off. How is Chenoa?”
Steel padded over to her and leaned down, kissing her cheek. “She’s doing fine. I’m worried about how she’ll do when she gets out. I still don’t understand how this happened.”
His mother stroked his arm. “And you never will. You have to accept that it has and work with her to make sure she doesn’t fall down again.”
He breathed out. “Yeah. Easier said than done. Drugs are fucking hard to kick. I hope she has the strength for it.” He creased his brow. “How’ve you been?” He sat down on the couch.
“Good. Chitsa called.” She chuckled. “You really made her mad. She was screaming and calling you a lot of bad words.”
“I’m glad I pissed her off. Is she taking the kids back?”
His mother smiled, then grabbed his hand and kissed it. “Thank you,” she said softly. “Sometimes I’m not good at saying no, especially to any of you.”
“I know. Chitsa should’ve known better. You let me know if she starts her bullshit again.” She nodded. “Promise?”
She kissed his hand again and whispered, “I promise. You’re a good son. You always worried about me. You’re my firstborn, and we’ve always shared a strong connection. I love Chitsa and Wayne too, but you have always been my protector.” He grunted and she laughed. “I know you don’t like talking about the touchy-feely stuff. Just know I love you very much and I appreciate what you do for me, Shiyáázh.”
“Yeah. So how’re you feeling? You eating?”
“
I’m feeling tired, but I’m an old woman so that’s to be expected. I’ve been eating. I wish you’d come over for dinner sometimes. I hate eating alone.”
“I’ll try and come by more often at dinnertime. I meant to ask you about the food stamp cards. How do you keep losing them?”
She shook her head. “I don’t know. I think that I have them in my purse or in the top drawer of my dresser, but then when I go to use them, the cards are gone. I could swear I had them. Maybe my memory is slipping.”
Steel pursed his lips. “You’re not losing it. Someone’s taking them from you. Besides Chitsa’s kids, who else has been in and out of here?”
Her eyes widened. “No one except for Chenoa and Wayne sometimes. I usually meet up with my friends at the community center to play cards and kibitz.”
A knot formed in his stomach as his brow wrinkled. “Chenoa comes over here a lot, doesn’t she?”
“Yes. She’s such a good girl. She helps me cook and clean the house. In the past few months, I haven’t seen her that often. She’d only come for a few minutes and then leave. I shoulda known something was going on with her.”
“Don’t even go there. You’re not responsible for this. Hell, I didn’t pick up on the fact that she was wearing long sleeves all the time, or that she acted suspicious about shit a lot. I guess I just didn’t fathom that my kid would be caught up in drugs.” She patted his hand and he pulled it away. “Anyway, did the most recent cards go missing after Chenoa was here the last time?”
“What are you saying? Are you accusing your daughter of stealing them?”
“Just answer me truthfully, Shimá.”
She nodded. “I was planning to go to the store right after she left. Chitsa was coming by to take me. She needed some things too, but when I went to get them, they were gone. Chitsa wasn’t too happy. Neither of us had enough money to buy a lot of groceries.”
Adrenaline rushed through him. Chenoa’s selling the food stamps for cash. Fuck. “Next time you need money, you call me. I’m sick of this shit. I can help you. Did you tell Chitsa about Chenoa being there and that the cards were missing after that?” She shook her head. “Don’t tell her any of this, okay?”
“I won’t. I didn’t want to believe it, so I convinced myself I’d misplaced them. I can’t believe she’d do that to me.”
“Drugs make you do stuff like that. It’s all about the fix. Nothing else matters.” He felt a heaviness descend on him. He wished he could hold his daughter in his arms for the rest of her life. He wanted to keep her safe, wanted her to have the best life possible. He wanted her off drugs forever. His stomach hardened. “I gotta go over and talk to Mika. Are you good?”
“I’m fine. I’m going to relax and watch TV. Wayne’s coming over and we’re going to have dinner together. Stop worrying about me.” She smiled.
“Tell Wayne I said hi.” He stood up and walked over to her, kissing her forehead before rifling through his jeans pocket. He stuffed two hundred-dollar bills in her hand. “This is for you. Not Chitsa, not the grandkids, just you. Buy yourself a new housecoat.” He shuffled to the door before she could give him the money back. “I’ll stop by in a day or so,” he said over his shoulder, then closed the door and went to his bike.
When he pulled into Mika’s driveway, she stepped out on her front porch and began walking toward him. He got off his bike and leaned against it, waiting for her to reach him.
“Is everything okay with Chenoa?” she asked, her brow creasing.
“Yeah. She’s doing great. I just stopped in to see my mom. I wanted to ask you a quick question before I take off. Have you ever misplaced your food stamp card?”
“My EBT card?” Her puzzled look made him chuckle. “Yeah. Why’re you asking?”
“I just wondered. When’s the most recent replacement you’ve received?”
“About a month ago. I couldn’t find my card anywhere. Come to think of it, I’ve had about eight cards go missing in the last six months. It’s weird. Why’re you interested in my EBT cards?”
He shrugged. “My mom mentioned she’s getting government help. I want her off it.”
“What’re you two talking about?” Roy stepped onto the porch. He ran his hand over his shaved head, his beady eyes fixed on Steel. Pricks of anger stabbed at Steel’s nerves.
“Nothing, honey. Steel’s just updating me about Chenoa.”
Roy walked over and stood by Mika, his arm snaking around her shoulders. Steel’s six-foot-one frame loomed over Roy’s five-seven one, and the man thrust his shoulders as though to make himself appear taller than he was. “How is she?”
Steel’s scalp tightened and he clenched and unclenched his fists to calm the burn that was threatening to explode inside him. “She’s fine. I’m talking to Mika. Why don’t you come back in five?”
Roy narrowed his eyes. “Why? Are you saying something you don’t want me to know about?”
Mika turned to him and kissed him lightly on the cheek. “No, sweetie, it’s just that—”
“I’m fucking outta here. I’ll catch you later, Mika.” His body temperature was rising. He turned away and swung his leg over his motorcycle.
“Wait. You don’t have to go,” she said, pulling away from Roy.
“I fucking know I don’t have to. Later.” He revved his engine and reversed his bike down the driveway. Mika’s face wore the mask of regret, while Roy’s was full of loathing. Steel’s lips curled into a wide grin, and then he laughed when he saw Roy grab Mika and hold her close, like he was telling Steel that she was his property. Like I give a fuck. He’s asking for a beat-down in the worst way. The only thing that held him back was Chenoa. He didn’t want the fucker taking out his frustrations on his daughter—or Mika for that matter. I don’t know what in the hell Mika sees in him.
Once Chenoa got out of rehab, he’d have to make sure that Roy got his ass out of Mika’s house. There was no way in fuck he was letting her stay in the house with him there. It never ceased to amaze him that both his dad and Roy had permission by the tribal council to live on the reservation. Very few non-natives lived on the reservation, and the ones who did had to obtain permission from the tribe to do so. He wondered how much it cost his dad and the fucker to get the council’s permission.
He shook his head in disgust as he rode toward the entrance to the reservation. The Department of Social Services was keeping his daughter away from him and it was pure bullshit. They were trying to protect Chenoa from the influences of his bad lifestyle, and she ended up on heroin.
But I’m the problem. What a goddamn joke. This fucking shit’s gonna stop now.
He swung his bike in the direction of the satellite office and pulled into the small parking lot adjacent to it. A blast of cold air slammed into him as he entered the small building. An unmanned reception desk was the first thing he saw. He marched down a short hallway and came into a room that had several partitions and desks set up.
A young man in a short-sleeved button-down shirt and tie sat behind a large desk, staring at a monitor. He jerked his head up when Steel cleared his throat. “Can I help you?”
Steel saw the apprehension in his eyes and laughed inwardly.
“I need to speak with Ms. Quine. Now.”
“Really? I mean, she’s not here right now. She’s out doing some field work.”
“When’s she coming back?”
The man wiped the sweat glistening on his forehead despite the below-freezing temperature in the office. He shrugged. “Not sure. Was she expecting you?”
Steel whirled around and stormed out, slamming the front door. He pulled out his phone and called Jorge to get her home address. He’d pay a personal visit to Ms. Smart-Mouth.
This shit with the department is gonna end tonight.
He sped out of the reservation and onto the open road.
Chapter Ten
Goose bumps pebbled Breanna’s arm when she came into the office. Why the fuck is it always a deep freeze in here? She placed th
e stack of files she held in her arms down on her desk and walked over to the thermostat, shaking her head in disbelief when the digital number fifty-eight appeared on the reader. That’s insane! She punched in seventy, then returned to her desk. The cold blowing air abruptly stopped and a satisfied smile spread over her face.
As she reviewed her cases from that day, Joel walked in with a can of Pepsi. She held her head down, pretending to be absorbed in her work, hoping it’d do the trick in keeping him from approaching her.
No such luck.
“Hey, you’re back. How’d it go?” he asked as he brought the can to his lips.
“Okay. I got a lot more done than I thought. It seems like the majority of people have a knack for misplacing their EBT cards. It’s wild.” She turned toward her keyboard. “I want to input the information while it’s still fresh in my mind.” Joel took a few loud gulps, then crushed his can and threw it in her wastepaper basket. The clash of metal on metal jarred her and she jumped slightly. “I’m kinda busy here. Sorry I can’t chat.”
“A tough-looking Native came in to see you. He was so fuckin’ pissed.”
Breanna’s fingers stiffened and she couldn’t tap another letter. “Did he give his name?”
“No. He was real mad that you weren’t here. He didn’t give me a chance to get any information. When I said you were out and I wasn’t sure when you’d be back, he just stormed out of here.”
She sucked in deeply. “Was he tall and built, with a scar on his face?” She knew it was Steel before Joel confirmed it.
“Yeah. So who is he? Does he live on the rez?”
Knowing he came to the office looking for her made her insides quiver, like she was ready to fall off the edge of a cliff into a soothing pool of crystal clear water—exciting and welcoming at the same time.
STEEL: Night Rebels Motorcycle Club (Night Rebels MC Romance Book 1) Page 8
