STEEL: Night Rebels Motorcycle Club (Night Rebels MC Romance Book 1)

by Wilder, Chiah

  He smiled in the darkness. Right now, life is pretty damn good.

  He drifted off to sleep.

  Three hours later, he received the call.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  The ICU room was as stark and bare as Steel’s hope. Since he’d received the call from the hospital, he’d been sitting next to Chenoa, watching her lie there quietly, her breaths matching the beeping of the machines that surrounded the bed. It was the only indication of her heartbeat… her existence. She was in critical condition, having overdosed on a dirty concrete floor in an abandoned building.

  He glanced up as Breanna walked in carrying a white Styrofoam cup in her hand. Wisps of steam rose from it. “I brought you a cup of black coffee.”

  Taking the cup, he brought it to his lips, blowing on the hot liquid. He took a sip and the bitterness slid down his throat.

  Breanna stood behind him and slinked her arms around him, her hands resting on his chest. Light kisses peppered his neck and he placed his hands on hers. “I know this is difficult. I’m here if you need me,” she whispered against his ear.

  He nodded and then cleared his throat. “Her name means ‘dove’ in Navajo. When she was a child, she liked to pretend she was a bird soaring high above everything. She’d tell me she liked the idea of being free to go anywhere, to soar above the shit of the world. So… yeah.”

  Breanna didn’t say anything, just squeezed him, and he leaned his head back and rested it against her stomach. Looking at Chenoa lying there was surreal. If—and it was a huge if—she pulled through this, she’d be permanently brain damaged. I should’ve been there for her when she called me. I fucked this up. I couldn’t protect her. He inhaled deeply, then exhaled slowly.

  The nurse came in and nodded at him as she went over to the machines and typed some information in a computer. “Do you need anything?” she asked as she turned to go.

  My daughter back. He shook his head.

  “If you do, please let me know.” She quietly left the room.

  “My baby,” Mika’s anguished voice filled the room as she ran in, Roy standing in the doorway. She rushed over to Chenoa and laid her head on her chest. Tears trailed down her cheeks and Steel sat rigid in the chair, taking in the scene.

  He glared at Roy, who shifted his gaze to Mika. “Get the fuck outta here,” Steel said.

  Roy scowled at him. “I’ll fuckin’ stay if I want to. I’m here for Mika and Chenoa.”

  He leaned forward in the chair, but Breanna’s firm hands on his shoulders urged him back. “I’m not gonna say it again. I don’t fucking want you here.”

  “Roy, wait for me outside,” Mika said.

  “Are you gonna let him tell us what the fuck to do?”

  “This isn’t the place. My God, Chenoa’s his daughter.” Her voice cracked and she looked at Steel, catching his gaze. He gave her a weak smile and then slid his eyes back to Roy, challenging him.

  “Fuck both of you.” Roy spun around and stomped away.

  Mika stared after him. “He’ll get over it.” She chewed on her bottom lip.

  “What the fuck are you doing with that asshole?” Steel rose to his feet.

  Before Mika answered, Breanna kissed him quickly on the cheek. “I’ll let you two talk.”

  Steel wrapped his arm around her waist. “You don’t need to go.”

  “I know, but I have some calls I have to make. I’ll be back.” She kissed him again and walked away.

  “How long has that been going on?” Mika pulled a chair over to the side of the bed and sat down.

  “A while. How did this happen, Mika? How did Chenoa end up at the warehouse? Did she sneak out of the house? What the fuck happened?”

  “Are you blaming me for this? Where the hell were you? You put your club first, again.”

  A surge of fire rushed through him. Since he’d heard the news, he’d wanted to break something, hurt someone, anything to divert the pain from himself. “Don’t fucking go there,” he hissed. “I left her in your care. I just wanna know how the fuck she ended up at that building at five in the morning.” He clenched and unclenched his fists. I gotta calm down. I don’t want to lose it in front of Chenoa.

  “She told me she was going to hang out with her friend, Josie. When she called me later that night, she said she would be home around ten. I was so tired, I fell asleep before then. I thought she’d come home, and was shocked when Breanna called me. I ran to Chenoa’s room because I didn’t believe that she wasn’t there.” She covered her face with her hands and cried softly.

  Steel bent down on his haunches and put his hand on her thigh. “This fucking sucks. I’m not blaming you. If anyone’s to blame, it’s me. I shoulda known she was in pain. I’m talking about now, but also before she started using. I thought she was okay, but I shoulda known.” He breathed out a ragged breath.

  Mika shook her head. “It’s the fuckin’ assholes who sold her this shit. That’s whose fault it is. I hate them. I hate what they did to our baby.” A deep sob filled the room, and Steel put his arm around Mika’s shoulder and drew her to him. As she rested her head on his shoulder, he held her as her body shook, and his daughter fought for her life.

  * * *

  For ten days he’d been by her side. She looked so small and peaceful lying in her hospital bed draped in white sheets and a blanket. Each day that passed made her death more imminent, yet he clung to the frayed thread of hope because he wasn’t ready to let her go. His world at that moment was fucked up; his daughter was the one dying and he was the one living. He’d come close to death so many times—in his world of violence, the grim reaper was always lurking around the corner—yet he was okay and Chenoa wasn’t. It didn’t make any sense.

  On a cold Tuesday night, he fell asleep in the chair he always sat in, but he woke up suddenly not long after. Something’s off here. He glanced at Chenoa; she lay perfectly still. There was no movement from her. Nothing. The beeping on the heart monitor had been replaced with a constant whine. Frantic, he looked at the monitors and saw the jagged up and down lines were gone, replaced by a steady line covering the screen. A cold sweat broke over him as he hit the red button while yelling, “Chenoa. Breathe, sunshine. Don’t leave me.”

  The overhead fluorescent lights glared on and numerous footsteps rushed across the linoleum floor. He moved away and watched a crew of people work on his daughter, trying to bring air back into her lungs. After several minutes, the screen still showed a flat line. The doctor covered Chenoa’s face with the white sheet, forever blocking out his sunshine.

  “I’m sorry,” the doctor and nurses each said.

  His heart shattered into pieces. For seventeen years of his life, she had been his sunshine, the good part of him. And now she was gone and his life would be forever changed.

  “We’ll leave you for a while with her. Do you want us to call her mother?” the nurse asked softly. He nodded, numbness killing his pain. “All right.” She patted his shoulder and left.

  He pulled the sheet back and gazed at her face, then bent down and kissed her, her skin still warm. Covering her hand with his, he shook his head. “For so long you flew with such grace, but then you got mixed up with the wrong crowd. They clipped your wings and you fell to the ground. The fuckers sucked up all the energy and life you could give, and then they left you to die alone on a cold cement floor. Fuck, sunshine. I wish you hadn’t forgotten how to dream, how to fight. I wish I could’ve protected you, kept you young and close to me your whole life. Now the demons are gone and you can soar high and free. I’ll love you forever, sunshine.”

  A desire for vengeance consumed him, and his muscles and veins strained against his skin. He threw his head back and looked upward. I swear on my ancestors’ spirits that I’ll find out who sold the drugs to my sunshine and I’ll obliterate them. I won’t rest until I fucking kill the piece of shit who murdered my sweet Chenoa.

  He took out his phone and called Mika, and she told him she was on her way. Then he called Br
eanna; he needed her so much at that moment. Chenoa’s death was slaying him.

  He stood over her bed and stared down, his mind blank. The only thing he was aware of was the cooling of her skin under his hand. When Breanna came in, tears streaming down her face, it startled him. He’d lost track of time.

  She took him in her arms and hugged him tightly. “I’m so sorry. I can’t even imagine your pain.” Her familiar scent comforted him, as did the soft strength of her arms.

  He grunted. I can’t fucking lose it. I gotta be strong for Shimá, Mika, and my woman. I can’t let this crush me. Over Breanna’s shoulder, he saw Mika standing in the doorway. He reached out and gestured her to come to him. She rushed over and he pulled her toward them. Breanna wrapped an arm around her and the three of them held onto each other, the two women crying against his T-shirt. He glanced at Chenoa, and he knew that her small body covered in white would always be etched in his mind. I just can’t believe I’ll never see you smile, or hear your laugh, or ever hold you in my arms again. He blew out a long breath and pulled Breanna and Mika closer to him.

  Before they removed Chenoa’s body, he bent down and whispered against her cold ear, “Thank you for being my daughter. I’ll see you in the dawn of my final day. Fly high and free, sunshine.” He straightened up, then jerked his head at the two men waiting to take Chenoa away. Mika had left an hour before, but he’d wanted to stay until the end. He wrapped his arm around Breanna. “Let’s go home,” he said.

  When they got to his house, he started a fire while Breanna told him she’d make him a cup of coffee. As he sat on the couch, staring at the fire jump and crackle in the fireplace, the aroma of roasted coffee beans filled his nostrils. Her approaching footsteps made him smile.

  “Here you go,” Breanna said as she handed him a mug of coffee. “I couldn’t find the cardamom, so I just made it black.” She swept a few strands of hair from his face, then settled down next to him on the couch, drawing his back against her chest. “Is it good?”

  He took a sip, the hot coffee helping to dissolve the numbness he’d felt since Chenoa died. He stretched out his arm and put the mug on the low table, then leaned back into her. She curled her arms around him, pressing him close. Kissing him softly along his forehead, cheeks, jawline, and neck, she whispered, “Just breathe. Breathe.”

  The feel of her, and the love and compassion she gave him, touched him like nothing ever had. When he spotted Chenoa’s guitar leaning against the wall, he lost it. His chest rose and fell as grief consumed him, and his sweet woman held him tightly in her arms, stroking him.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Breanna packed the last box of dishes and looked around her kitchen. Boxes were piled on the floor and she shook her head in amazement. I can’t believe I had all these kitchen things and I don’t even know how to cook. She grabbed a bottle of water from the refrigerator and went into the living room. The following day, Steel and several of his brothers would come by and take her boxes to Steel’s house.

  He’d told her he wanted her with him the night Chenoa died. She’d been staying with him ever since, but all her stuff had been at her house, so she kept traipsing back and forth until he told her that he’d paid off her lease. She smiled, but then she always smiled when she thought of him.

  It’d been a rough three weeks since the funeral. Because Steel was so used to being a strong leader, a man who didn’t show his emotions, she had to coax his grief out of him. Her heart broke every time she thought about Chenoa’s death. She couldn’t begin to imagine how Mika and Steel must be feeling. Breanna knew he missed her so much, and she also knew he blamed himself for her death. She’d told him he wasn’t responsible for heroin being in the county, but he just didn’t see it that way. She hoped as time went by, his guilt would lessen.

  A knock on her door yanked her away from her thoughts. When she opened it, Nicholas stood there, his skin a gray pallor, bruises and scabs all over. His hair was dirty and stringy, and it looked like he hadn’t washed his clothes in a couple of weeks. She hadn’t seen him since before Chenoa’s overdose, and she was shocked at his appearance. Her fingers touched her parted lips, and her stomach twisted in knots.

  “Nicholas. It’s been a long time. Come in.”

  He brushed past her and flopped down on the sofa. “I need money real bad,” he said, his eyes darting all around the room.

  “Damn, you’re strung out.”

  He glared at her. “No shit. Do you have some money? I feel like I’m gonna fuckin’ die here if I don’t get a shot. Fuck.” He wiggled around on the couch, scratching and picking at his scabs.

  “What happened to your sales job?”

  “Can you leave the fuckin’ questions for later?”

  “How much do you need? And I still want to know what happened to your job.”

  “A couple hundred would be great. I still have it.”

  “Are you shooting up all the money you make?” She walked over to her purse on the table.

  “This is a fuckin’ cruel drug. I’m doing ten shots a day. I’m not making enough to support it.”

  “Please let me help you. I know a couple of great rehab places.”

  “Yeah… well… right now I need a shot. We can talk about that later. Fuck, Breanna, I’m dying here!”

  She pulled out two twenty-dollar bills, and then a lightbulb went on in her head. “I have forty I can give you, but I want something from you.”

  “Anything.”

  “I want to know who the main dealer is. Who’s giving you guys the drugs to sell on the street?” She laughed dryly. “Don’t look so surprised. I figured you were selling when you told me about your job. And you’re using the money to support your habit. But I want to know who in Alina is giving you the drugs.”

  He crossed and uncrossed his legs while he wrung his hands. “Candyman. Now can I have the fuckin’ money? I gotta go.”

  “His real name.”

  “How the fuck should I know? He goes by Candyman.”

  “Call him and arrange a buy.”

  “He doesn’t do fuckin’ street sales. He’s a big man.”

  “Tell him I want a big load for resale. Call him and you get the money.”

  “I can’t. I’m so fuckin’ strung out that he’s gonna know something’s up. Anyway, why do you want his number?”

  “I’m doing this for a young girl who was my client and then my friend. Chenoa deserves this.”

  “Chenoa? I know that chick. She loaned me her lighter. She was cool. Does she want some smack? I can arrange it.”

  Breanna fixed her gaze on him. “Chenoa’s dead. She overdosed almost a month ago.” Nicholas stopped moving and his mouth opened, but no sound came out. “She was only seventeen. That could’ve been you.”

  He held his stomach and bowled over. “Fuckin’ too bad. She seemed like a cool chick. Do you have the money? I gotta go.”

  “All right. Give me Candyman’s number. I’ll set something up.” He balked. “If you can’t do this one thing for me, then I’m done with you.”

  He took out his phone. “I’ll call him. I’ll tell him I’ve got a shitload of money that I stole and want to buy three pounds of Asian smack. He’s got the good pure stuff, but the mixed stuff is the cheap shit that’s sold the most.”

  “He’ll be able to tell you’re strung out. I’ll just make the call.”

  “Let’s get this the fuck over with! He won’t meet you. He doesn’t know you from shit.”

  She watched as he plugged in the number.

  It was a quick call, and at the end of it he’d set up an appointment for that night to meet Candyman at the back of O’Riley’s Market on Fifth and Grape. “Just stay in the bushes where he can’t see you. You can get his fuckin’ license plates on his car or something. Now give me the forty bucks.”

  She handed it to him. “I’ll meet you at seven. Please show up.”

  “I will ’cause I’ll need more smack by then.” He ran out and slammed the door.
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  Sadness enveloped her as she stared at the door. It’s just a matter of time before I receive the same call Steel did. I don’t know what to do anymore. She wiped at the corners of her eyes and picked up her phone. Steel was going to come that night, and they’d planned to pick up some Mexican food and spend the night together. It would be her last night in her house. She’d lived there for several years, so the move was not without some anxiety and angst.

  She wanted to tell him what was going on, but she hoped he wouldn’t overreact and want to take charge of the situation. She feared it would spook Nicholas to the point where she’d never hear from him. When Steel’s voicemail picked up, she remembered that he’d told her he was going for a long ride to the sacred mountains. She figured the reception probably wasn’t the best around there. Since Nicholas had made the arrangement for seven thirty that night, she’d be home in plenty of time to meet up with Steel at eight thirty.

  She picked up another empty box and the tape dispenser, then headed into the bedroom to pack up her shoes, clothes, and accessories.

  * * *

  Nicholas was less jittery when he came by her house that night at seven o’clock. She drove to the agreed place, parking a few blocks away.

  “There’s a big tree that you can stand behind. That should cover you good. Do you have any money to give me for a hit? I’m gonna need that.”

  “I have another forty. The money comes hard earned, Nicholas. You’re shooting up my tips, and my feet are hating you for it.”

  He wiped his nose. “I’m just saying I’m gonna have to buy something, especially since I’m gonna have to tell him the money I stole was stolen from me when I was shooting up.”

  She took out the bills and handed them to him. “That’s it. I’m dry for the week.”

  He nodded and shoved the money in his jacket pocket.

  When they arrived at the location, she spotted the big tree Nicholas had told her about. The trunk was enormous, and it could easily conceal her. She glanced at the time on her phone—7:20 p.m. “We better split up. He may come early. I’m going to go behind the tree,” she said in a hushed tone.