“Where’s Chenoa?” he asked.
“She’s in group therapy.” The doctor lifted his arm and looked at the watch on his wrist. “She should be out in about fifteen minutes. She’ll be glad to see you.”
“How’s she doing? The fucking truth.”
A small smile twitched on Dr. Turner’s lips. “She’s doing great here. The first couple of weeks were intense, but the drug’s out of her system. The worst thing with addiction, especially with opiates, is the psychological pull of the drug. As long as she’s in a controlled environment, she’ll do really well, but the true test will be when she leaves rehab.”
“I fucking know that. Is she strong enough to fight it?”
“I honestly don’t know, Mr. McVickers. Each case is unique to the individual. I wish I could give you more assurance, but with any addiction, the urge is always there. I hope Chenoa is strong and can resist it, but only time will tell.”
“Not the fucking answer I was looking for.” Steel clenched his fists.
“But the only one I could truthfully give you.”
Steel nodded. “That’s fair.”
“Dad!”
Steel whirled around and saw Chenoa dashing toward him. She flung her arms around his neck and he lifted her off the ground, hugging her tightly to him, her legs dangling and kicking against his thighs. She’s so light. I wonder if she’s eating enough. I’m getting her a double cheeseburger for dinner. “How’s my sunshine?” He kissed her forehead, then put her down.
Chenoa giggled. “I’m fine, especially now that you’re here. Let’s go to my room.”
When they entered, she sat on the small couch and gestured for him to sit next to her. The couch faced the window, and he could see the bluish tint of the San Juan Mountains filling the horizon in the distance as he sank down.
“Do you remember how I used to take you on long rides around the mountains?”
“Yeah. It was so awesome. When I get out I wanna go again. I can’t even remember why we stopped doing it.”
“Because you told me you outgrew it.” He grasped her hand. “I’m so proud of you, sunshine. I know this has been fucking hard for you, goddamn grueling, but you’re seeing it through. You got spirit, and if you ever feel like you’re gonna fall, tell me. I’ll always be there to catch you no matter what, but you gotta fucking let me know.”
“I know that, Dad. I just did something real stupid, but I’m not gonna do it anymore. It’s finished.”
He scanned her face. Her eyes glimmered and he leaned over and kissed the lid of each one. “I hope so. I don’t wanna lose you,” he said against her skin.
“You won’t. All this is in the past. I’m ready to begin the present and look forward to the future.”
“Is that what they’re teaching you in rehab?” She nodded. “Just remember that I’m always here for you. I was thinking I’d go get us some double cheeseburgers, french fries, maybe some wings, and two thick milkshakes. You down for that?”
“Is salad a choice in your grease-fest menu?” She laughed.
“Sure, but only if it’s in addition to what I named.”
“Deal.” She placed her arms around him. They held each other tightly for a long while, and then she pulled away. “I’m starving. Can you go now?”
He laughed and rose to his feet. “I’ll be back in a few.”
“Ranch dressing for my salad,” she called out as he walked out of the room.
* * *
He stayed with Chenoa until she fell asleep a few hours after they’d eaten. She’d told him that they made everyone get up at seven in the morning. She had so many therapy sessions, classes, and chores that by the time ninethirty hit, she was exhausted.
He bent down and kissed her head, tucked the covers under her chin, and headed out. When he got to his Harley, he decided he’d swing by Breanna’s and spend some time with her. He wanted to tell her about Chenoa and share his fear of her relapsing. What the fuck? He never shared anything with anyone, let alone a woman, and fear wasn’t part of his vocabulary. But this thing with Chenoa scared the shit out of him, and he wanted to talk to Breanna about it.
He wasn’t too sure what he wanted from Breanna. She definitely stirred him in a way no woman ever had, but he was ready to start a war with the Skull Crushers, and most probably the Demon Riders if Banger’s prediction of the club being the smack supplier were true.
Then he had Chenoa to worry about. She’d be out of rehab in less than two weeks; he couldn’t have a relationship with Breanna complicating everything.
He’d told her earlier that day that she was in his blood, and it was true. He knew he didn’t just want a fling with her. She meant something to him. He wanted her, but he didn’t want the permanence of a relationship. Anyway, he fucking stunk at relationships. He couldn’t commit 100 percent because he had the brotherhood, and he didn’t want a woman asking him to choose. Besides, Breanna’s dad fucked her up about the brotherhood; she had baggage, and he didn’t know if he could deal with it on top of everything else that was going on in his life.
He did know that he wanted to see her and talk with her. He wanted that very much, and the thought of having another session of awesome fucking made him ride that much faster to her house.
When he rounded the corner, he spotted Breanna on the front porch, the light from the overhead fixture basking her in a golden glow. A tall, skinny man stood close to her, his arms wrapped around her and hers around him. Anger roped around Steel as he watched them standing in silence, holding each other while the sounds of summer encircled them. Hardness replaced any tender feelings he may have been suppressing. His impulse was to jump off his bike and beat the shit out of the man who had his arms around his woman. Whoa. My woman? The truth was she wasn’t his woman; he hadn’t claimed her. But he thought they had something.
Fuck it! If she wants to fuck around fine, but I’m done.
With his jaw jutted out, he swung his Harley around and sped off, his back stiff and his insides churning. He took the road out of town, riding like a bat out of hell; he needed to ride hard and fast to burn off the anger that was threatening to spill over. He didn’t want to think of anything—not Breanna fucking another man, not the Demon Riders, not the lure of heroin for Chenoa. He just wanted to connect with the wind, the night, and the mountains.
He just wanted to be.
Chapter Twenty
Breanna stood on the porch hugging Nicholas, her heart exploding with joy. After several nail-biting days of no contact with him, he’d finally graced her doorway. When she’d first heard the doorbell, she’d hoped it was Steel. She hadn’t heard from him all day, and she wanted to see or at least talk to him.
When she opened the door, Nicholas’s lean face smiled at her. He looked so much better than the last time she’d seen him. She flung the door open, stepped outside, and drew him into a bear hug. “I’m so glad you’re okay. I was so worried.” Her voice cracked and she buried her face in his shoulder.
“Come on. Don’t cry. I just got super busy. Sorry I didn’t call.” He stroked her back as he held her tight.
She lifted her head and saw something flash in the night. Squinting, she saw a flash of chrome at the same time loud cams filled her ears. Steel! Her heart beat quickly in anticipation of seeing him, but then confusion set in when she saw him hang a U-turn and ride away from her.
That’s odd. Maybe he forgot something. I’m sure he’ll be back.
“I hate those jerks who ride these big Harleys and think they’re so badass. They tear up the streets with all their noise. Such fuckin’ posers.”
Breanna drew out of Nicholas’s embrace as she laughed. “I know that guy and his Harley, and believe me when I tell you he’s definitely no poser. Just the opposite.” Warmth spread through her as she thought about their time together the day before, and earlier that day.
“Are you hooked on that jerk?” Nicholas frowned.
“No. I just know him from work. Let’s go in. The mo
squitoes are biting.” She stepped inside and he followed her.
“Bullshit. That look on your face means you’ve fallen for some dude. A biker? Don’t you remember how great Dad was?” He snorted.
“Dad was a selfish person, and I’m pretty sure he would’ve been one whether he was or wasn’t a biker. Anyway, enough about all that. Tell me what you’ve been doing.” Besides shooting up. “You look healthier.”
“I feel better. I have a new job and I’m making some decent money for once.” He wiped his runny nose. “Do you have a Kleenex?” She reached behind her and took the box from the small table in the foyer. He took a couple. “Thanks.”
A runny nose was one of the signs that someone was using smack. She swallowed the lump that began forming in her throat. “That’s great. Where’re you working?”
“I’m selling a product to people. The more I sell and the more I get interested in this product, the more I make. It’s been going great.”
She sat down on the couch and he followed suit. “What’re you selling?”
He blinked rapidly. “It’s something to make people feel better.”
“Like a health elixir?”
He grinned broadly. “Yeah.”
“Are you hungry? I have a frozen pepperoni pizza I can pop in the oven, or a meatloaf dinner.”
“Let’s order a pizza. I’m paying.”
“Are you sure you have enough?”
“I told you I’m working now. You call it in. I want extra cheese and extra pepperoni.”
“Okay.” She dialed the number, but suspicion crept through her. Something was off-kilter. Where did he get his money? She hated that she didn’t believe him. Maybe he was off the stuff and had fallen into a good job. He could be very persuasive; she and her debt were proof of that. She should be happy for him instead of suspicious, but she couldn’t stop the niggling feeling that something was more wrong with him than ever.
When their pizza came, Nicholas ate like he hadn’t eaten in several days. She nibbled on one piece, wondering why Steel hadn’t phoned her yet. She was positive that it was him who’d been across the street earlier. Why did he take off in such a hurry? I hope Chenoa’s all right.
It was probably something related to the club. She remembered her father getting phone calls during dinner and he’d hang up, put on his black gloves, and leave without anything more than a “club business” grumble. It had driven her mother crazy and had made Breanna scared to death.
I hope he calls me.
While they watched a movie on TV, she felt her eyelids grow heavy. Before she could get up and drag her butt to her bedroom, she fell fast asleep.
* * *
Breanna woke up to a chorus of birds in the maple tree right next to her living room window. Rays of brightness cast squares onto the floral couch and the dull hardwood floor. She blinked a few times, trying to adjust her eyes to the golden illumination. She was on the couch, wearing her clothes from the previous night, an empty pizza box and several cans of pop littering the coffee table.
She bolted up. “Nicholas?” she called out.
No answer.
Had he left while she slept, or was he curled in her second bedroom, sleeping like a baby? She rose to her feet and shuffled to the guest bedroom. It was empty. She went to her bedroom, but it was empty as well. She groaned and rubbed her neck, working out a kink that had sprung up from sleeping at an angle all night.
She went back to the living room and cleared off the coffee table; she hated the smell of left-out food. When she went into the kitchen to toss everything in the trash, she noticed a piece of paper on the table. “Had to run. You looked so comfortable on the couch that I didn’t want to wake you. I had a nice time with you. It was like the old days. Thanks. I’ll call you. Nicholas.” She smiled and folded the note, shoving it in her pocket.
After cleaning up the mess, she went over to her laptop and checked her e-mails, hurriedly opening the one from her supervisor. She read it and yelled out, “Yesss!” Her supervisor told her that she and the others were impressed by her report and they’d decided to allow Chenoa to live with her father on the condition that he live away from his club. Joy surged through her.
I have to tell Steel. He’s going to be thrilled. Oh, but he has to get a house ASAP.
She checked her phone, a thread of disappointment weaving through her when she didn’t see any text messages or phone calls from him. Deciding not to get bent out of shape, she decided she’d go to the clubhouse and personally deliver the message. Don’t kid yourself, Breanna. You know it’s because you want to see him. She dashed to the bathroom to shower and get ready for her day.
When she arrived at the clubhouse, the member manning the gate recognized her and motioned for her to go through. She pulled into a space near the front door and walked into the main room. It wasn’t very crowded, and she supposed the early hour was probably the reason; partying all night didn’t go hand in hand with early-morning rising.
She went over to the bar and waited for someone to notice her. A member came over. “Hang-arounds aren’t allowed in the club until tonight. Who the fuck let you in?” a tall man with a dark beard and darker eyes asked.
“I need to talk to Steel.”
The man ran his gaze over her. “I told you, hang-arounds aren’t allowed in here right now.”
“I’m not a hang-around. I’m a social worker. I have some news about Chenoa. I’ve got to speak with him.”
A slow smile replaced the man’s scowl. “Oh, you’re the blondie he’s been hanging with. Stay put. Lemme go find him.” He disappeared down a long hallway.
She lifted herself onto a barstool and grabbed one of the napkins, which she proceeded to tear apart in tiny pieces. A couple of men stared at her, but they kept their distance. A redheaded woman came over to her, wearing a tight T-shirt and jean shorts. She stood in front of Breanna and pointed to the front door. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing in here, skank? Get your ass outta here before I kick it out.”
“I’m waiting for Steel.”
“I’m sure you are, but the only women who get him at this time of day are the club girls, not hang-arounds. Get your ass out!”
Another woman with long black hair came up and stood by the redhead. “Aren’t you the bitch who was with him on Saturday night?”
Breanna stiffened. “Don’t fucking call me a bitch.”
“Okay. Weren’t you with him on Saturday?” The black-haired lady crossed her arms.
“Yeah. What of it?”
“Nothing.” She and the redhead exchanged looks. “Well, I hope you got some time because Steel’s busy with Alma right now. You can wait if you want.”
“Alma? Who’s that?”
The redheaded woman took one step closer to Breanna. “She’s been Steel’s main girl. Has been for the past several months.”
Breanna’s stomach dropped, and it felt like she’d been sucker punched. “I gotta go. I just remembered there’s something I have to do.” She slid off the stool.
“You see, Steel has his women right here at the clubhouse. He doesn’t need anyone else.” The black-haired woman looked at the redheaded one. “Am I right?” The woman nodded.
“Leave her the fuck alone, Fina. Why don’t you and Lucy go help Lena in the kitchen if you’re bored.” A tall buffed man with brown hair and eyes came toward her. “Steel’ll be here in a minute. Want something to drink?” Speechless, she just nodded. “You want a beer or a shot?”
“Orange juice, please.”
“You want a couple of shots of vodka in it?”
“No, thanks.”
He pulled out a carton of orange juice and poured her a glass.
“Thank you.” She brought it to her lips.
“I’m Paco. You’re Breanna, right?” She nodded as she swallowed. “Good to finally meet the woman who’s fuckin’ with our prez’s head.” He came out from the bar and stood in front of her, his dark gaze checking her out. “I can see what he
sees in you.”
“Back the fuck off, Paco.” Steel’s hard voice made her jump.
He laughed. “I saw you coming, brother. I knew that’d get you.”
The bearded man who’d approached her first laughed loudly.
“Why don’t you two fucking hyenas move it,” Steel said.
“Let’s go play some pool, Army. I’m in the mood to make some money,” Paco said as he strode away.
“Then you’re playing with the fucking wrong person. I’m gonna—”
Breanna couldn’t hear his voice anymore. She turned to leave.
“What the fuck? Where’re you going? Army said you had some news about Chenoa.”
She spun around. “The department has decided that Chenoa can live with you if you have a house. They don’t want her near the clubhouse,” she said in a flat voice. Turning away, she stormed out the door. Her eyes were stinging; she pulled out a tissue and dabbed the corners.
“Breanna. Wait up. What the fuck?”
Footsteps pounded behind her as she ran to her car and jumped in, slamming the door just as he reached her. He tried to open the door but she’d locked it. He pounded on the window. “Open up. What the fuck’s the matter with you?”
She turned on the ignition. A huge bang on her window made her jump. She turned and ice curled around her nerves; his face was a mask of rage, his eyes burning and his lips pulled back. “Roll down the fucking window or I’ll break it!”
She took several deep breaths and released them, trying to calm her nerves and push away the hurt and tears. She pressed the button and the window rolled down halfway. “What do you want? I’ve got to go to work. I don’t have time for this shit.”
“Why the hell did you take off?”
“I told you, I’ve gotta go to work.”
“You’re fucking lying to me. Why’d you come all the way out here to tell me the good news and then run away all pissed off? Tell me what’s going on.”
“Aren’t you busy?” she asked coolly.
He raised his eyebrows. “Busy with what?”
“Alma.”
STEEL: Night Rebels Motorcycle Club (Night Rebels MC Romance Book 1) Page 18
