STEEL: Night Rebels Motorcycle Club (Night Rebels MC Romance Book 1)
Page 15
She glanced at Steel, surprised at the fierceness in his eyes. He clasped her hand in his and pulled her away from the table, dragging her past the bar and down the hallway to one of the closed doors. He pushed it open and shoved her inside.
The room was smaller than the storage room, resembling an office. There was a large mahogany desk, a black leather couch, several chairs and lamps, and a small refrigerator. He shut the door behind him. “Sit down,” he said.
“I have customers to wait on.”
“I already told Jill and Mindy to handle them.”
Her face flushed with anger, she placed her hands on her hips and glowered at him. “Do you think I’m doing this job because I’m bored? I need the money. If I don’t take care of customers, I don’t get the tips. It’s pretty basic.”
He trailed his gaze over her slowly, making no attempt to hide the fact that he was checking her out. “I would think you’d be thanking me for getting that fucker to take his hand off you. Or maybe you liked it.”
Her nostrils flared and she narrowed her eyes. “How dare you say that to me. And I didn’t ask for your help. I was handling it just fine until you came in with your badass act.”
“Bullshit. I saw you struggling to break away from him. The fucker had no intention of letting you go. You weren’t handling it.”
“It’s none of your business what I do.”
“And the way you wear your top, you’re practically handing your tits to the guys. You’re giving off the wrong impression.”
“I haven’t asked for your opinion. And did you get a look at Mindy’s blouse or Jill’s crop top?”
“I don’t give a fuck what they wear. They aren’t you.”
“You’re exasperating. I don’t have time to stand here and argue with you. I’ve got to get back to work.” She marched to the door, but as she placed her hand on the knob, a strong arm snagged around her waist. She screamed and clawed at it with her nails. “Let me go, damnit!”
He pulled her roughly, almost violently, to him, and then he took her mouth with a savage intensity. Twisting in his arms and arching her body, she sought to get free. “Calm the fuck down!”
Being in his arms both aroused and infuriated her. “You can’t just kiss me whenever you fucking want to. You act like you just came out of a goddamn cave,” she gritted. “I didn’t give you permission to touch or kiss me.”
He let go of her, his expression clouded in anger. “Permission? Baby, I think we’re beyond that, don’t you?”
“Are we? I hardly think so. And here’s a newsflash. Just because we had sex doesn’t mean you can boss me around or grope me whenever you want. It was fun, but that’s all it was.”
All of a sudden, he stiffened at her words and stepped away from her. “I never planned on it being anything more. What I did out there was help out a waitress. I would’ve done the same thing if it were Jill or Mindy, so don’t let it go to your head. Go on and serve your tables. We’re done here.” His voice dripped ice, each shard stabbing her heart.
She tossed her head and walked out, acting like his words hadn’t just pained her. I’d rather die than let him see how he’s hurt me. He was the worst kind of man, pretending he cared when all along he just wanted to fuck her.
For the rest of her shift she avoided Steel, which was surprisingly easy to do since he avoided her as well. His cool, aloof manner irked the hell out of her, but she pretended that it didn’t. Out of the corner of her eye, she’d see women approaching him, flirting, laughing too loudly, and touching his arm, hair, or face, and a burning sensation filled her body from the core. Each time he drew his ear a little closer to a woman’s lips or smiled too warmly, anger and hurt would pull at her. And when she thought about the memory of their night together, a dull ache pulsed between her legs. Damnit! Why can’t I just forget about him? She had to conquer her involuntary reactions to his build, his smile, his laugh… to his everything.
“You need some help with that?” Jill’s voice broke through her thoughts.
Breanna had a tray full of drinks on one hand and a pack of cocktail napkins under her arm. “I think I got it. Thanks, though.” She scrambled away, happy to get lost in the crowd.
As the night began to wind down, she noticed a few nice-looking bikers wearing the same logos on their cuts as Steel. They were hanging by the bar, chatting with him, and drinking. A couple of them looked in her direction, and she noticed Steel stole a few glances at her. She thought she recognized one of the men as coming into the bar in the past, but she wasn’t sure.
But she was sure that they were talking about her. He was probably bragging how he fucked her. She knew how bikers were. She remembered the times when her dad had some of his brothers over for a night of boozing, and they’d compete with stories of their conquests, even though her mother had been in the next room and could hear everything they said.
Steel’s such a sonofabitch. I have to look for a new job. I can’t do this anymore. This is too awkward.
Glancing at the time, her heart soared when she saw it was two o’clock. Jorge had announced it was last call for drinks a bit earlier, but she’d become absorbed in clearing off tables and wiping them down. She placed her tray on the bar and went to the back to her locker. When she took off her heels, she moaned aloud and sat down. Rubbing her aching soles felt like heaven. She heard footsteps clumping down the hall and something told her it was Steel. She slipped her flats on, slung her tote over her shoulder, closed her locker, and rushed out of the room.
When she opened the back door, she heard his deep voice behind her. “Breanna.” She acted like she hadn’t heard it and rushed to her car.
“Breanna, I know you can hear me. I wanna talk to you,” he said.
She slid into her car, started the ignition, and drove out of the parking lot. Glancing in the rearview mirror, his stare pierced her. She looked straight ahead and breathed a sigh of relief as she drove farther away from the bar, and from him.
Chapter Seventeen
Steel sat on the edge of his bed the following morning. His head was still reeling from the previous day’s church. The membership had voted to take out the Skull Crushers. The rival MC had been a pain in the Night Rebels’ side since the Crushers had loosely started their club a few years before. They weren’t a proper club in the true biker sense; rather, they were a bunch of punks who hung out to do illegal activities. They knew nothing about respect, the brotherhood, and the outlaw world.
Steel had known the showdown would someday come between the two. The beat-down that his club and the Insurgents had given the Skull Crushers a couple of summers ago had quieted the rival club down for a while, but they seemed to have forgotten that the Night Rebels meant business.
At church, they’d decided to wait until they found out which MC was supplying heroin to their county. Paco had pointed out that if the Skull Crushers existed no more, the supplying MC would probably go underground for a while. Steel mentioned that he wanted to talk to Banger and Hawk from the Insurgents to get their take on the situation.
Steel grabbed a bottle of water he had placed on his nightstand before he crashed the night before. He guzzled it all down, crushed the bottle, and threw it in the trash can across the room, then blew out a steady breath.
He wanted to see Breanna again. He didn’t buy the indifferent attitude she’d given him after they left the back room. He’d caught her sneaking glances at him, and she didn’t seem all that happy when women came up to him. Fuck. I don’t want to care for this woman. But he did. He couldn’t explain it, but she did something to him. There was something wonderfully irresistible about her and the unexpected attraction they shared.
He picked up his phone and tapped in her number. She answered on the fourth ring.
“What do you want?” she asked.
“I’m picking you up for dinner at seven. Be ready.” A gasp from her made him smile.
“You have a lot of gall,” she said.
“We’ve alrea
dy established that a long time ago. So seven. I gotta go.”
“Wait! I can’t go. I have to work tonight.”
“No worries. I’m the boss, remember?”
“I need the money,” she said softly.
“You can take your comp day.”
“I have comp days for part-time employment?”
“You do now, and it includes tips. Seven o’clock. See you.” He hung up, a weight that had been heavy on his chest lifting. He jumped to his feet and went to the bathroom to take a shower.
He was actually going out on his second date with Breanna. That blew him away since he hadn’t taken a woman out on a second date since high school. What surprised him even more was that he was looking forward to it. Deciding not to analyze what had come over him, he made up his mind to just go with it, unwrapping a bar of soap and stepping into the shower.
* * *
At seven o’clock he knocked on her door, a small tinge of anger curling in his stomach when she didn’t answer. He lifted his leg and set his foot on the planter on her porch. It had never occurred to him that she’d stand him up.
Did I misread her? What the fuck’s wrong with me? He’d always been spot-on when it came to gauging women and their wants. After Mika had cheated on him and he’d left her, he made a point of reading women’s body language, their facial expressions, the hidden meaning between their words. Even though they sparred a lot, there was an electric spark that sizzled between them, and he’d been positive Breanna had felt it.
He pressed his lips together and stood upright. If she doesn’t want it, then fuck her. I don’t have time for this shit anyway. He jumped down the stairs and was walking to his Harley when he heard her yell, “Steel!” He paused for a few seconds, then turned around slowly.
At that time of day, the sun had dipped lower to the west. Breanna stood on the porch, her white eyelet sundress bathed in honeyed tones from the sun’s lessening rays. He sucked in his breath as he took her in: cascading golden hair, rose-colored lips, mesmerizing bright eyes. She clung to the stone pillar on her porch, her gaze locked on his. A warm, infectious smile spread over her face.
“You coming or what?” he said in a gruff voice, but his senses were alert and his jeans were tight as hell.
“Hang on a minute, will you? I got home late from work and I’ve been scrambling. Let me grab my sweater.” She bounced back into the house, and all Steel could think about was peeling her sundress off her later that night. Coming back in sight, she slammed her door shut and then headed down the sidewalk.
All he wanted to do was run up to her, gather her into his arms, and kiss her deeply, but he stood still. When she got to him, he turned around and swung his leg over the bike. “Get on.”
She snuggled in behind him. “I should’ve worn pants. I forgot how disastrous it is to wear a dress on a bike.” She laughed, and the melodic sound of her voice squeezed his hardening dick.
He started his bike and screeched away from the curb, extremely aware of her body behind him. The way she circled her arms around him, her tits pressing against him, and her feminine aroma of vanilla and apricots ribboning around him just about sent him over the edge. He’d never tire of the feel and scent of her.
They rode past the businesses on Main Street, the neatly manicured lawns on Linda Vista Road, and the worn-down and crumbling homes in the seedier part of town. On either side of the road lay red-tinted sand, sagebrush, and the jagged peaks of the mountains in the distance. They turned down a small road, following it for a few more minutes until Steel stopped in front of a brightly colored pink house. The shutters on each side of the windows were a neon lime green, and the awning over the large porch was turquoise. Pots of cacti and wildflowers dotted the yard around the home, and copper symbols and animals covered in a green patina dangled from the eaves around the house. Two large German shepherds barked and ran toward the motorcycle.
Steel killed the ignition and got off the bike, then held his hand out and helped Breanna off. When the dogs came closer, she grabbed his arm and pressed closer to him. He chuckled. “No need to be afraid. These two are major softies.” He bent down and petted each of them. “They’re cool.” Breanna reached out and did the same. “Come on.” He rose to his feet, holding her hand as they walked to the front door.
“What is this place?” she asked.
“It’s a Navajo restaurant.” He laughed when he saw her jerk her head back. “Yeah, I know. It looks like a house. It actually is, but the owners live in the back. The front part is the restaurant. It only seats about twenty people, but the food is fucking good. I thought you’d like to try it since you work on the rez.”
“I love it. This is a great idea.” Her eyes sparkled and he leaned over and kissed her cheek.
“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered against her ear. Then he pulled back and opened the door for her.
Inside, a few tables were set up in the dining area. A woman in her fifties smiled widely when she saw Steel. White threads weaved through her black hair that was pulled back in a single braid hanging down her back. She wore a bright orange peasant blouse and a long yellow skirt. A chunky turquoise and silver necklace around her neck glimmered under the lights.
“Steel. Yá’át’ééh.” She came over and hugged him.
“Aoo’ yá’át’ééh,” he replied. He reached behind him and grasped Breanna’s hand, tugging her in front of him. “I want you to meet Breanna.”
The woman looked her up and down before extending her hand. “Welcome. I’m Haseya.” Steel noticed her gaze lingered on Breanna’s hair.
Breanna shook her hand. “It’s so nice to meet you.”
Haseya nodded. “How’s your mother?” she asked Steel.
“Better. How’s business?”
“Very good. I’m so glad you and your… friend came in. Please, sit anywhere you like.”
Steel put his hand on the small of Breanna’s back and led her to a small table by the window. They sat down and Haseya brought over a beer, setting it in front of Steel. “What would you like?” she asked Breanna. She ordered an iced tea and the woman scurried off.
“This is so charming,” Breanna said as she looked around. “Were you speaking Navajo with her when you came in?”
“Yeah. My mom taught it to us, and Mika and I have taught it to Chenoa. It’s important to keep your heritage and traditions.”
“I agree. I’m not sure what I’m comprised of. My parents didn’t tell us too much about our background. I’ve heard Navajo spoken on the rez. It sounds like it’d be a hard language to learn. What did you say to each other?”
“Just ‘hello’ and ‘how are you.’ I guess Navajo would be hard to learn. A lot of the older people speak it, but the young ones, not so much. The food is really good. They usually have two dishes on the menu. The lamb stew is the staple dish, and it’s fucking amazing. Lamb and mutton are a staple for Navajo food, along with corn and squash.”
“I’ve only had fry bread, and I loved it.”
“That’s ’cause it’s fucking good.” He smiled and brought his beer bottle to his lips. He wanted to share his heritage with her. He was pleased that she liked where he’d chosen for dinner.
As they dined on lamb stew and fry bread, he told her about life on the reservation when he was a kid, and how being in the Night Rebels changed his life for the better. She shared how she wished her siblings would stop fucking up and own up to their lives, and how rewarding and heartbreaking it was being a social worker.
After their meal, Heseya put a plate of orange and pineapple slices in front of them. “I remember how much you like these,” she said as set down two small plates. “Enjoy.”
“Ahéhee’,” he said as he speared a slice of pineapple and placed it on Breanna’s plate. She bit into it, the juices running down her chin. He leaned over and wiped them away and then put his finger in his mouth and licked it. Her lips curled up into a small smile before she took another bite.
Leaning bac
k in his chair, he crossed his arms as he watched her eat. He cleared his throat. “I’ve wanted to tell you that I didn’t mean to hurt you when I left that morning. It had nothing to do with you. It’s just that I didn’t know what the fuck to make of it.” He uncrossed his arms and ran his hand through his hair. “You’re different from any other woman I’ve ever known.”
Taking her napkin, she wiped her mouth then pushed her dish away. “After you left that morning, I was confused, and I suppose hurt too. I figured you were a typical asshole biker. It brought up memories of my dad, and they weren’t the good ones.” Pausing, she stared out the window then looked back at him. “Sometimes it seems like you’re a real jerk, but then I see you with Chenoa and it blows me away. The fact that you brought it up is huge.” She reached over and placed her hand on top of his.
Moving his hand slightly, he clasped hers in his and squeezed it while his gaze captured hers. He wanted to tell her that she twisted him up inside, and he didn’t want to care for her like he did. But he didn’t say anything. He wasn’t a man used to talking about his feelings, so he just held her gaze for a long time, relishing in how comfortable he felt with her.
After they were finished, they said goodbye to Heseya and left the restaurant. As they walked to his motorcycle, she grabbed his hand and squeezed it. “Thank you.”
He stopped and looked at her. “For what?”
“For tonight. For sharing a part of your heritage and life with me.”
He smiled. “Being Navajo is my heritage, but my life is the Night Rebels. The brotherhood will always be the first blood that runs through my veins.”
“Then share that with me tonight.”
“What do you mean?”
“I want to go to your clubhouse now. I know you’ve got a party going on tonight, so I want to see how you live. I could use a shot or two of whiskey.”
He shook his head. “I don’t think so. It gets pretty rough and raunchy. Let’s go to town and listen to some music.”
She crossed her arms. “Do you think I’m a shrinking violet? Nothing surprises me. I want to go. I don’t want to stay all night, maybe just or an hour or two. Are you going to take me there?” She pressed closer to him.