Steel My Heart (Motorcycle Club Romance) (Sons of Steel Motorcycle Club Book 1)

by Lux, Vivian

  "Fuck off," Case rumbled and poked the pile with his boot. "How old is this shit? Why do we have it?"

  "Judging from the hairiness, I'd say it's from the seventies." I giggled.

  J. and Case both snapped their heads to look at me. Case's mouth was a perfect 'O' of shock.

  "Emmy, right?" he nodded. "I'd shake your hand, but I touched it." He poked the pile gingerly with his boot. "And it was sticky."

  I wrinkled my nose. "Yeah, thanks, don't."

  J. crouched down appraisingly. "I'd say this would be worth something, if it were in, er, better condition."

  "Teach tells us to clean up the place and doesn't warn us about the pile of full-bush porno mags in the corner?" Case wiped his hands repeatedly on his jeans. "Jesus, I think I caught chlamydia just standing here."

  A heavy tread on the floor made us all turn. The older man J. had called MacDougal stood there, arms folded, his face a stony grimace. Without a word, he stepped to the pile and threw a stained bed sheet over the top. "Leave it," he grumbled, voice hoarse with disuse. Then he stalked away to the front of the store.

  J. looked at Case. Case snorted and socked J. in the arm, then the two of them burst out into peals of laughter that echoed off of the metal ceiling. "Mac, you perverted old fuck!" Case called to the retreating man.

  "There's porn on the internet, dude!" J. called. "Whole videos, for free!" He turned to me. "Whoops, sorry Em."

  "If he likes the hairy stuff, he's gonna hate Internet porn," Case noted.

  J. punched him in the arm. "Mixed company, asshole."

  I laughed in delight. "I haven't been around people just shooting the shit and having a good time in a long time," I declared. "Please. Pretend I'm not even here."

  Case looked at me pointedly, up and down. "Gonna be hard for me to do that," he said seriously, his eyes fixed on my cleavage.

  J. punched him again. "How about you try not being an asshole for once?"

  "Casey? Jeremiah? You gentlemen back there?" I turned to the front of the store, surprised to hear a female voice cut through their brotherly banter. I looked back and had to laugh at the sight of them both standing straighter.

  "Jeremiah?" I asked.

  J. looked down. "Jeremiah Johnson. My sister's name is Janelle Johnson. My mother only knew one letter, apparently."

  "You have a sister?"

  "Long story," he waved his hand and I bit back my questions to look at Case.

  "Your name is Casey?" I looked at him, huge and bearded. He looked like an illustration of the Viking conquerors. Definitely not a 'Casey.'

  "Ugh, I know," he grumbled petulantly. "We're back here Mallory!" he called to the front.

  "Could you gentlemen help me?" came the call. She sounded older, and her voice dripped with the authority of the classroom. J. and Case moved with the nervousness of schoolboys, and I followed behind in wonder.

  She was indeed an older woman, though I would have put her age anywhere between forty and seventy. Her cocoa skin was unlined, and her eyes were clear and sharp. Only her waist length dreadlocks gave her away, the dark coils shot through with silver. She wore riding leathers without the patches of the rest of the club, and a helmet was tucked under her arm. Her voice had made me think she was a large woman, but upon reaching the front of the store, I saw just how tiny she was. Her head barely reached J.'s shoulder. She could have fit neatly under my chin.

  When she saw me emerge from behind J., her eyes widened. Setting her helmet down on the counter, she extended her hand. "Hello dear, I'm Mallory."

  Her forthrightness took me aback. "Uh, hi. I'm Emmy. Emilia. Call me Emmy," I stammered, pumping her hand up and down like an idiot.

  "She's with me," J. interjected.

  "On you?" Mallory asked pointedly.

  "On me," J. nodded firmly.

  Once again I was left wondering about that exchange, but had no time to ponder. Mallory clapped her hands. "Is this place clean?"

  "Clean as it's going to get, Mal," Case replied.

  She tilted her head at him. "Clean?" she repeated.

  Case nodded. "We're good."

  I shot J. a questioning look, but he shook his head.

  "Okay," she clapped her hands. "Where're the rest of the guys?"

  "Only Mac is here right now. Crash'll probably show up right beforehand." Case shook his head incredulously. "He volunteered to 'bring girls.' God help us."

  I stifled a laugh, but Mallory barely reacted. "Fine, then it's the five of us. Liquor and beer are out in the pickup. Food's in the front seat."

  "Mac!" J. hollered back into the garage. "Mal needs you." The older man appeared in the doorway immediately. "How come you never come that fast when I call you?" J. grumbled. Mac just shot him a withering look and stalked out the front door.

  I followed the group like a little lost puppy, unsure of my role until Mallory plopped a box filled with red Solo cups in my arms. "Got that, Emmy?"

  "Uh, yeah of course." I shifted the burden in my arms. It was light, but unwieldy.

  J. rounded the pickup with a box full of clinking liquor bottles in his arms. "Follow me," he called.

  I scurried after him, a smile threatening to overtake me. I wasn't used to being treated like a competent adult. Robert would scoff at something so simple as me attempting to lift a box. I had forgotten I was capable.

  A tiny little bud of pride bloomed in my chest.

  "Watch your step," J. called over his shoulder, and I looked down just in time to step over the threshold into the garage. "Just stick that on the table," he grunted, lifting the heavy liquor bottles onto the shelf in the kitchenette.

  I plopped my burden down, suddenly eager to be useful again. "You want me to take the plastic off?"

  He grinned at me for a moment before replying. "What?" I asked.

  "When you woke up this morning, did you think you'd be getting ready for a biker party in the afternoon?"

  I swallowed, remembering my thoughts this morning. "It's honestly the best outcome I could hope for," I said, hoping my tone was lighter than my words.

  The way he looked at me made me feel bold. "So, 'on you.' What's that?"

  He looked at the floor. "Heh, I was wondering if you'd notice that."

  "Yeah, sounds kinda ominous."

  "It's not," he answered hurriedly. "It means, well, I vouch for you. You're my responsibility. I say you're okay, and am held to my word."

  I leaned against the table, holding tightly. If I didn't I was afraid I would float away. Feeling like my smile would break my face open, I struggled to find the words. I finally settled on, "Thank you."

  He bent down and brushed a kiss across my lips. "I'm glad you're here," he whispered.

  Chapter 25

  J.

  He heard the approaching riders before he saw them. The armada of motorcycles first passed overhead on 95.

  "What exit did you tell them to take?" J. asked Teach.

  They were standing out in the recently cleaned parking area. It had always been way too big for their needs. Maybe Teach was right. They needed more allies. More brothers. It wasn't good to go it alone in this world.

  J. made a mental note to go to his sister's tomorrow.

  "Thought I told them to come up the Vine and get off at Independence Hall," Teach mused. "Now they're gonna have to come down from the Aramingo Ave. exit."

  "That's going to suck," J. agreed. He felt a pain in his palm. Looking down at his hands, he saw they were clenched so tightly his fingernails were digging into his palm. Very deliberately he forced them back open again. "Are you sure about this, Teach?" he heard himself say.

  Teach looked at him. "It's a risk, I realize that." He turned to the clubhouse garage and surveyed the grounds with a critical eye. "I honestly wonder why you, Casey, and Ben joined up in the first place. The Sons of Steel were just a few old guys lying around drinking and reminiscing about the old days until you boys showed up."

  J. looked at the broken pavement under his feet. "S
hut up with that," he growled, emotions making him sound angrier than he felt. "After what you did for me? You saved my fucking life, Teach. I was hell-bent on getting myself killed or worse until you came into my life. And I know Case and Crash both feel the same. Mac was the only man in Case's neighborhood who cared enough to see he was gettin' pounded on daily. And Doctor D, well, we know where Crash would be if the Doc hadn't put himself out there and waived his fees. That accident...." J. inhaled. "We don't have a connection like that with these guys from Richmond. They don't give a shit about us as people, they just want more bodies in their arsenal."

  The old man set his lips grimly. "I hear you. Nothing is final. But please think about this." He gestured to the front step where Emmy sat with Mallory. Both of their heads were down and their expressions were serious. "That girl over there, the one that you are so taken with? She's got no one behind her, I heard her say as much. Yeah we've got each other's backs, but how much is enough?" He shook his head, his dreads swinging across his chest. "There's strength in numbers, J. There's merit is belonging to something bigger than yourself."

  The approaching roar robbed J. of his ability to respond. Not that he would know what to say anyway. Everything in him wanted to trust that the old man was infallible. But the nagging feeling that this was a mistake would not go away. He unclenched his fists for the second time and followed his mentor.

  One by one, the Storm Riders of Richmond swung into the lot, moving with precise, military precision. J. counted twenty-three bikers, every single one of them as white as Case and Emmy. He thought he saw a few of the men in the back do a double-take when they saw him, but he hoped he was mistaken.

  The lead rider stepped off of his tricked out chopper and strode towards Teach. He was at least six inches taller and a hundred pounds heavier than the old man. But Teach extended his hand with the same quiet authority and raised his voice over the noise of the bikes.

  "Welcome to Philly, Des! Was it a good ride?"

  Case shuffled over to J. The last rider parked his bike and killed the engine, leaving a deafening silence.

  "I ran a check on that guy," he whispered to J. "Desmond Falwell, president of the chapter." He chuckled darkly. "You and him could swap prison stories, though I think he's got a few more."

  Desmond took Teach's hand just above the wrist and the two men clasped forearms. "Great weather and no hassles until we got into the city here. Do y'all not believe in marking your exits in the north?"

  "We heard you overhead. Sorry about the confusion," Teach replied mildly. J. looked down and saw his fists were clenched again.

  The big man regarded Teach for a heartbeat as if he wanted to say more. Then he stood up straighter. "Well we appreciate the hospitality," he said stiffly.

  Teach opened his arms wide. "Make yourselves at home, boys," he called to the waiting riders.

  "Let's fuckin' party!" Crash yelled, bounding up the steps and landing stiffly on his bad leg. The Storm Riders swarmed into the clubhouse, pressing though the store, knocking equipment from the shelves, shoving and cursing their way towards the liquor. J. scanned the crowd, searching for Emmy's bright platinum head but couldn't find her anywhere.

  Chapter 26

  Emmy

  "Are all Philly girls as beautiful as you?"

  I turned my head sharply. The Storm Rider was already drunk, leaning against the wall sloppily and leering at my chest. It appeared my hiding place had been found.

  "Hi," I ventured, sidestepping his hand quickly as he clumsily reached for me. I made for the door of the bunkhouse, steeling myself before stepping into the fray.

  I needed to find J. The leering looks of the bikers had me jumpy and nervous, ready to startle out of my skin at every turn.

  I hadn't felt that way this afternoon. This afternoon had been like a dream come true. Relaxing, working together, talking comfortably to Mallory, trading insults with Case, laughing at Crash's antics, listening to Teach talk philosophy and art, all of it, every moment had been part of the slow flower blooming in my chest. And all the while I had been watching J. as he confidently strode around the clubhouse in his element, directing preparations, jumping in to help when he was needed and anticipating what needed to be done beforehand.

  He had told me the duty of the Road Captain was to fix things. And he was gifted at knowing what needed to be done. The more I saw him work, the more I believed he was exactly what I needed to fix me.

  But now I couldn't find him anywhere. The clubhouse was overrun with the loud, aggressive partying of the Storm Riders. Case was watching the mayhem critically from a corner, a dark scowl masking the handsomeness of his face. Crash was draped across the laps of two drunken college girls here for a night of rebellion.

  Mac and Doctor D. had disappeared into the lot, supervising the set-up of target practice. I cringed at the occasional bang, hoping the gunshots were all in good fun.

  I stepped up onto a pile of boxes, searching for J. It wasn't hard to find him. His close-cropped dark head stood out like a beacon to me amidst the greasy light-haired sea.

  "J.!" I called out over the shouts and insults of the party.

  He didn't hear me. I sucked in my breath and plunged into the crowd. The shouts of the bikers filled my ears. "Hey sweetheart, come have a drink!" "Are you tonight's entertainment?" "I just want to say hi, don't be like that!"

  When I finally reached J. my heart was pounding nearly out of my chest. "Hi," I said to him, struggling to keep the note of panic out of my voice."

  "Hey there Em." He slung his arm over my shoulder and I instantly felt better. The jumpy nervousness dissipated and I lifted my chin. Seeking his lips, I sighed with relief when they found mine. "Are you having any fun at all?" he murmured in my ear.

  "A little," I lied.

  He nodded. I snaked my hand into his back pocket, getting as close to him as I could. But his touch wasn't comforting. He felt just as jumpy and on edge as I had been. His shoulders were up around his ears and he kept flexing and balling his fists.

  "Are you having any fun?" I asked him.

  Before he could reply, I felt a solid weight smash into my back. I cried out in surprise as I fell forward. The floor rushed up to meet me and I cringed, waiting for the impact.

  "What the fuck!" J. grabbed me just as I was about to hit the floor, yanking me away from the huge Storm Rider before I was crushed beneath him. "Watch where you're going, dipshit!"

  "Who're you callin' dipshit?" the big man snarled, stumblingly quickly to his feet.

  "You, asshole." J. stepped up to him, pushing me behind him protectively.

  "J.," I squeaked. "Don't..."

  "Apologize to my girl, asshole," J. snarled.

  The tiniest flutter of excitement awoke in my belly. He called me his girl.

  The Storm Rider looked over J.'s shoulder to where I hid. "She's your girl?” he drawled. "How the fuck do you figure?"

  The room was suddenly silent. "Wayne!" Desmond called across the clubhouse.

  "I ain't doin' nothin'" Wayne protested. "I just asked a question, that's all."

  "What's your question?" J. asked sharply.

  "I asked you how the fuck you figure she's your girl?"

  "Case, get Emmy back," J. called, his eyes locked on Wayne.

  I felt a tug on my arm. "Emmy, back up," Case pulled me to him.

  "J.!" I called. "Stop it!"

  But the J. I knew was gone, replaced with a seething mass of murderous rage. "And what do you mean by that?" he snarled at Wayne. His fists were balled tight and his knuckles were bone-white.

  "You deaf, boy?" I heard a few ominous chuckles at the word.

  "You had best not be callin' me boy," J. spat. The crowd of Storm Riders pressed closer, obscuring my view. He was outnumbered, a lone Black face in a sea of snarling white. I yanked my arm away from Case.

  "J.! I want to get out of here! Right now!"

  "Enough!" came the roar from Teach, louder than anything I had ever heard from his mou
th. The small older man waded into the fray, pushing and shoving his way to J. "Desmond, get your man in line!"

  "Wayne!" the Storm Rider barked. "Back down you fucking idiot. We're guests!"

  But Wayne wasn't about to back down. I saw a glint of light and screamed before I knew what I was seeing. "J., duck!"

  The knife cut a gleaming arc through the air, missing J.'s cheek by inches. J. flung himself backwards, nimbly ducking under Wayne's arm. He stepped to the side as the big man was still off-center and landed a punch right in his ribs. I heard a hollow thwacking sound as J.'s fist connected with Wayne's side. A wild light gleamed in J.'s eye and his mouth twisted into a hollow imitation of a smile. He whirled back in front of Wayne, still doubled over in pain, and landed a sickening punch to his face. Blood exploded from Wayne's mouth, spraying the onlookers in a fine red mist.

  "Ha!!" J. shrieked, winding up his third blow.

  Teach tackled him from the side. "Case!" he roared, wrestling J. to the ground. Case let go of my arm and shoved his way to the center of the circle. "Get him out of here!" Then he turned to me. "Emmy!"

  I froze as the eyes of the Storm Riders landed on me. Wayne was bent double, gasping and spitting blood on the concrete floor.

  "Emmy, help him! Get him back!" Teach bellowed.

  The wild animal fear still shone in J.'s eyes as they dragged him from the fight. His eyes locked on mine, but there was no recognition in them. Nothing but animal instinct. I didn't know what to do, so I did the only thing I could.

  I flung my arms around his shoulders and pulled him down to kiss me.

  The instant his lips met mine, his eyes went wide. "Em," he whispered, but it was more like a moan. Frantically I clung to him, holding him close, holding him back. As long as he was kissing me, he and I were both safe. His heartbeat slowed under my palm until it was as strong and true as my need for him.

  "Let's go," I pleaded with him. "I want go away."

  Dazed, he nodded and took my hand. I led him from the garage, towards the line of bikes against the wall. He went to the furthest one and kicked it to life, the engine roaring as he revved it. Sliding onto the bike, I snaked my hands around his waist, holding on tightly as we surged forward.