Laced Steel: An Enemies to Lovers Romance (Steel Crew Book 3)

by Mj Fields

  “How about some hooch?” I elbow Patrick.

  “Yeah?” He smiles.

  “This is nice.”

  “Intense, yeah?”

  “That, too. But watching you fall—”

  “Not happening.” He shakes his head.

  “Why the heck not?”

  He smiles at her. “She hates everything our family is about, and I’d never want to change a thing for her.”

  I’m about to have an awe moment when she plops down on his lap, drunk and grinning.

  “Savannah, what—” She slaps her hand over his mouth, and he finishes in a muffled, “Brings you here?”

  “He’s afraid I’d change him is more accurate. That I’d have him joining the Peace Corps with me, and he’d end up wiping his million dollar ass with leaves and drinking from red Solo cups.”

  He laughs. “What would likely happen, Savannah—”

  “You’re so annoying,” she says before taking a drink.

  “—is the second I was balls deep in you, you’d wave your white flag and surrender to my dic … tator ways.”

  “In your dreams.” She gives him a sloppy grin and plants an even sloppier kiss to his cheek, then jumps up and skips away. “Let’s play beer pong!”

  Thankfully, Patrick is a kick ass beer pong player, and I’ve only had to drink a few beers. Unfortunately, this means I’m drunk and more apt to join Savvy’s cult.

  “Lemme grab the cooler from the Jeep, and we’ll grill some burgers and dogs,” Patrick says when I flop down next to Savvy.

  “No meat, you murderous bastard,” she slurs.

  “Got tofu shit for you, mouthy,” he says, jogging toward his Jeep.

  I roll to my side and face her. “Do you like him?”

  “Nope.” She laughs. “I hate everything he stands for.”

  “But do you like him?”

  She rolls to her side and smiles. “Hottest guy I’ve ever seen in my fucking life, and he shaves his chest, legs, pubes—”

  “Wait—how do you know that?” I grin.

  “Caught him in one of the study cubicles with that ho.” She points behind her to the blonde.

  “I heard that!” the blonde yells.

  “Wasn’t trying to hide it. Own that shit.” She raises her cup and spills a little on herself.

  I can’t help laughing.

  “I like you.”

  “I’m so likable,” she says. “Said no one ever!”

  “I’m drunk, Savvy, but you are wasted. Let’s go find something to nibble on while we wait for—”

  “Patrick’s meat.” She laughs as she pushes herself up.

  “Nothing vegan about that, girl,” Patrick says from behind her.

  “Except the metal rod shoved—”

  “What!” I interrupt her.

  “Metal is vegan.”

  “Thanks for blowing my spot, Savvy,” he groans.

  “You know what?” I cover my ears. “I don’t even want to know.”

  Chapter Twenty One

  Idiom

  High as a kite.

  Truth

  I shot for the freaking moon.

  “She ate the fucking brownies, man.” I hear, but my eyes are heavy and the entire world is spinning. Behind it? A green laser beam.

  “Savvy, what the hell were you thinking?”

  “Leave her alone,” I croak out, like a frog, a frog who swallowed cotton balls.

  “How was I supposed to know she’s never been fucked up?”

  “I’ve been White Claw wasted,” I groan out. “I need beer.”

  “The hell you do.” Patrick laughs.

  “That the cops?” someone says.

  “Fuck! That’s the cops, man.”

  “Chill. There’s like three sets of headlights. If three cop cars are rolling in, I’m gonna guess we’re fucked anyway.”

  Patrick. That was Patrick.

  “Nah, man, that’s not the cops; that’s the boys. It’s fucking payday.”

  “I wanna go home,” I groan as I push myself up.

  Patrick sighs. “Yeah, that shit’s not happening, Sally Stoner.”

  “Help me up,” I say, slapping at him, his voice—something.

  “You’d be better off staying still, sleeping it off.”

  “I don’t want the cops to catch me, Patrick. I don’t want them to,” I whine as everything spins.

  “It’s not the cops; it’s those fucking assholes,” Savvy jumps in. “Who told them we were here?”

  “Gotta get paid, Savvy. Been a fucking week.”

  Who’s paying what? I wonder.

  “Couldn’t you have waited one more fucking day? Jesus, this place is sacred. A paradise hidden from the capitalists. You assholes just invited the enemy here.”

  “Calm down, Savvy.”

  Harrison?

  “Fuck you, Harry.”

  “Harrison is here?” I try to push myself up.

  Savvy snaps, “Yeah. Now this place is—”

  “Savvy, your drama is daunting. Save it.”

  I force my heavy eyes open to see Harrison crouch down beside me.

  “What have we here?”

  “Back off, buddy. I’m joining the revolution. Fuck capitalism.”

  “Someone’s had a few too many libations.” He helps me sit up.

  “I want more vi … viv … vibrations. Less brownies.”

  “Never took you as a battery-operated boyfriend fan or a cannabis girl, Miss Steel.”

  “Don’t judge me. I love THC.”

  “It’s obviously an unrequited love,” he says, moving behind me then pulling me back. “Much like ours.”

  “Tricks, he’s got your cousin between his legs!” Savvy yells.

  “No need to worry, Patrick. She’s between mine; I’m not between hers.” He whispers in my ear, “Yet.”

  “Probably not gonna happen.”

  “I’ll take that over definitely.”

  I lay my head back. “Can you stop the spinning?”

  “We’re not spinning.”

  “Everything is spinning. I hate it.”

  He rests his chin on my shoulder. “Picture the world as your music box. You’re at its center, pirouetting.”

  “With no talent and a messed-up ankle?”

  “You’re extremely talented, and your ankle will heal.”

  “You gave me mean stage notes.”

  His chest rumbles against my back. “I gave you the most notes. Much different than mean.”

  “Why?”

  “Isn’t it obvious?” he asks, running his lips across my shoulder, pushing my shirt aside so his skin is touching mine. I like the feeling. The feeling of being touched in the darkness. “Miss Steel?”

  “Shh …” I whisper as I close my eyes, trying to picture the face of the man whose lips I wish were on me.

  He presses his lips against my skin. “This okay?”

  “Mmmhmm.”

  I feel his hand snake around my waist. “So fucking tight, just like I knew it was. You have a beautiful body, Miss Steel.”

  “Say my name,” I whisper as I put my hand over his and slowly move it up.

  In the distance, I hear a voice warning, “Money man is here and coming in hard, too.”

  “What the fuck?”

  Shit, Patrick.

  I jump, expecting him to be looming over me—us—catching me in the act.

  “Harrison, no.” I pull his hand away.

  “At some point, I’m going to grow tired of this little cat and mouse chase you seem to enjoy, Miss Steel, and then it may be too late.”

  It already is.

  My eyes attempt to adjust to the headlights that are now a foot away from me and shining in my eyes when I hear a door slam.

  “Cops are on their way. Get the fuck out.”

  Tobias.

  “What the fuck are you bringing trouble to our lake for?” Savvy yells.

  “Jesus, Savvy. Someone get her the fuck out of here, or she’ll end
up in jail again.”

  “None of us can fucking drive, man!” someone yells.

  “Then throw your illegal shit and take a trespass ticket.” He storms toward me.

  “Don’t you fucking touch her,” Harrison says as Tobias grabs my hand.

  I try to pull it away. “Fuck you. I hate—”

  He yanks me up. “I’m aware.”

  “Unhand her!” Harrison yells.

  “Guessing you’ve got about thirty Gs in your vehicle and no withdrawal slip to explain why since no money has touched my account. You may want to get the fuck gone.”

  “You threw a fight. You lost us money,” Harrison hisses at him.

  Tobias laughs angrily. “I’m not getting arrested, so I’m out.”

  “Take her with you!” Patrick yells.

  “No!” I yell back.

  “You’re so fucked up right now, Truth,” Patrick says as if his words hurt him.

  “I wanna stay with you!” I yell as Tobias throws me over his shoulder. “Patrick! Dad, Mom, Justice are going to—”

  “I’m not saying shit. Go to his place. Toss me your phone.”

  “No!”

  Tobias opens the door to an old Ford Bronco and drops me inside. I try to open the door as Patrick runs over, reaches inside, and grabs my phone from my hoodie.

  “You’ll be fine, T. No one will know. Just sleep it off until I can get there.”

  “Let’s go!” someone from the crowd yells, and I watch them all run toward the woods.

  “Patrick!” I cry, opening the door. “Come with us!”

  “Not fucking happening.” Tobias yanks me back in as I try to pull away. Then he leans across me, holding me in place with the weight of his body, slams the door, and buckles me in.

  “You wanna get them all in deep shit, keep it up!”

  “I wanna go with them. They’re my people,” I sob out. “My new people, and I love them. I love them way more than you!”

  “Great. Then sit the fuck back and shut the hell up so you don’t get them in deeper shit.”

  As I cry into my hands, he slams on the gas and heads toward the woods.

  “Where are you going?” I ask, head still dizzy, eyes yet to adjust, and body shaking in now silent sobs.

  “Apparently, to take you to my place until Patrick can get to you and rid me of the burden!”

  “I hate you.” I sniff.

  When he doesn’t respond, I turn toward him. “Did you hear me?”

  He doesn’t say anything, and so I say it again, and again, and again.

  Chapter Twenty Two

  Tobias

  My fucking nerves are shot, my hands shaking, my chest aching, as I listen to her still, in her sleep, whispering, hate you, as she continues to sniff and shake with near silent sobs.

  I hope she continues to say it a million times over so that the cold, cruel words extinguish the soul-scorching, drunken word vomit that is still burning into what I fear will forever haunt me.

  I love them way more than you.

  All week, as most every teenager in the United States does, I wished away five days to get to the weekend. A first for me. I never liked being alone, never loved being surrounded by people, but that was before I saw five-foot-nothing of a little spitfire back in November.

  When the little red BMW rolled up in front of Frank’s shop to buy one of the rings that I needed to sell to pay some bills, I expected to see the type of girl that I see at school. A girl dressed in designer labels that cost more than most people make in a week. But she wasn’t. She was in workout clothes, wearing sneakers, and the laces weren’t even tied. She was cute as fuck. When she came in and didn’t just drop a black card and lift her nose in the air, and not only haggled over prices but knew she would likely be taken for a ride, I knew she valued a dollar. She piqued my interest immediately.

  My balls didn’t burn, my dick didn’t stand at attention immediately. It wasn’t a need for a release, or an excuse to have a warm body in my bed for a couple hours just so I wasn’t alone. It wasn’t because I wanted to see if she was really all I thought she may be. I just fucking knew finally something good was coming.

  The events that unfolded afterward fucked all that in the ass—no lube.

  Finally at home, I park in the garage attached to the back of the house and pace back and forth, not wanting to wake her, because I don’t know what I would do or say to her. I’m fucking angry that she kissed him, angry that I reacted to it by breaking a promise. Angry, so fucking angry, that I couldn’t keep my emotions in check, possibly the only time that it mattered.

  That loss of control from someone like me—a kid who has kept it together for so fucking long, since she died, since before her funeral—it truly feels like this is killing me.

  I scrub my hand over my face and remind myself, Less than three months.

  I finally dare a glance at her and see she’s looking at everything around the garage.

  “Fuck,” I mumble as I walk over and open the door.

  Angry that she has seen what she has, knowing it makes me look like a crazy fucking hoarder, I snap, “Let’s go.”

  “I can just stay here,” she says then sniffs.

  “I don’t want you in here,” I snap.

  Her hand shakes as she tries to unlatch her seat belt.

  “Move,” I say, trying not to sound like an asshole but knowing it’s necessary to keep her saying she hates me as I unlatch her belt.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispers, fucking it all in the ass.

  “Don’t be sorry. Keep telling me you hate me. I fucking love it.”

  “I’m not sorry about that.” She shakes her head. “I’m sorry about your mom.”

  “That’s none of your business.”

  She pushes me then slides out of the truck, swaying as she walks in the wrong direction.

  I grab her elbow. “It’s this way.”

  I open the door, and the cool ocean air blows against my face. I feel goose bumps spread across her skin.

  She steps out, and then I shut the door behind her and lock it with my key.

  “Come on,” I say as I walk around the house to the front porch, unlock the door, and open it.

  “If he gets arrested, my parents are gonna find out, and I’m gonna get grounded.”

  An angry laugh escapes me, as do words I should have kept inside. “I hope you do. It’ll make it harder for you and Reeves to fuck around.”

  I look behind me to see she’s fucking pissed. Good. So am I, sweetheart, so am I.

  “Maybe I’ll make it easier on myself and move out when I’m eighteen, find myself an old ass yoga teacher with the body of a twelve-year-old”—she shakes with another silent sob and wipes her sleeve under her nose—“with plastic doorknobs to fuck when I’m feeling like I need to get laid.”

  “You do that, and I’ll punch him in the fucking head, too.”

  She balls her hands into fists, and I see her getting ready to go off like a tiny toddler. “I—”

  I scoop her ass up and kick the door shut behind me.

  “Say it now!” I yell as I storm toward my room and toss her onto the bed.

  One pillow at a time flies at me as she screams, “I. Hate. You!”

  She starts to get up.

  “You stay right there, don’t fucking move, and go to sleep until someone comes to get you the fuck out of here.”

  She doesn’t listen, and I have no idea why that surprises me at all.

  “I’m not staying in here where you fuck old ladies. I’m going to the couch!”

  “Gonna have to be honest here and tell you there isn’t a surface here I haven’t fucked on, so good luck, sweetheart.”

  I’m a fucking dick, and I deserve whatever she says, throws, or does next.

  “I’m gonna rent this place and spread my legs for every guy who isn’t too much of a pussy to admit he wants me!”

  “You think I’m a pussy because I haven’t said I wanna fuck you?” I laugh.
r />   “If the old lady twat fits,” she sneers, “wear it.”

  “She’s twenty-nine!” I yell at her.

  “Oh, yeah? And how long has she been that age? Ten fucking years!”

  “Jesus Christ, Truth.” I turn to hide the fact that I’m losing my shit so badly that I’m about to laugh. “Just go to sleep.”

  I hear covers rumple and turn to see her tear them off, or at least attempt to. She’s so fucking wasted.

  She turns around, scowling at me, and my fucking chest tightens at the thought that, someday, I’ll have a little one who looks at me like that when I tell her it’s time for bed.

  “Are you just gonna stand there, or are you gonna help me?” She sniffs, bottom lip now pouting fully out.

  “You really think you deserve my help?”

  With both hands, she covers her face, her shoulders slouched, and she sobs out quietly, “I’m so tired.” Then she walks to the corner, takes her hoodie off, revealing a tight as hell tank top, and curls up in the corner, using the hoodie as a pillow.

  “Fine. Fucking fine.”

  “And flip that stupid mattress, too,” she tells me.

  “I’m gonna beat your ass,” I whisper to myself.

  Wrong. Fucking. Thing. To say.

  “Like you tried to my brother? Then you pussied out like a big … pussy?”

  Through my teeth, I reply, “Something like that.”

  “And about my ass …”

  Oh, fuck, I think as she continues while I walk into the closet and grab fresh sheets in hopes of stopping her tantrum.

  “My ass is phat, with a PH, and everyone at school voted for that. And you know whose ass that was, Tobias fucking Easton? Mine! My ass may be fat, but it’s okay, because it’s the PH kind.” Then she whispers, “So there.”

  I walk out with the sheets and set them on my dresser, and she starts up again.

  “And you know what? Maybe your body type is not everyone’s cup of tea. Maybe some girls think, oh yuck, look at those big stupid muscles and those stupid”—she hiccups—“stupid tattoos. Did you ever think of that? Huh, did ya?” Hiccup.

  I flip the mattress.

  “And seriously, what is with your oh-so-cool-dude workout clothes and your matchy-matchy … ness? Do you think that your stupid”—hiccup—“stupid sneakers are too cool for a girl with a fat ass?”