Justified Steel (Steel Crew Book 4)

by Mj Fields

  It was when I was literally pulled up, feet not even touching the ground, then turned and dropped on my feet, I knew I was finally done for.

  When I looked up, shock nearly overtook me when my eyes met the hazel ones of the boy who I swore I was in love with for so many summers, in the hulk-like, overly tattooed body … of a man.

  Then he spoke ugly words to me. “Touch her again, you’ll have three of our females on you like flies on shit, you feel me?”

  Still trying to convince myself I was wrong, but deep down knowing I wasn’t, I snapped back, “Do you think I’m afraid of you?”

  “Don’t give a fuck if you are or aren’t. Leave her alone or justice will be served. And trust me, Queenie, you won’t like it.”

  Justice.

  Queenie.

  As if his eyes, his face, his hair hadn’t been enough to tell me it was him, those words, delivered with disgust, certainly were. And when he leaned in and sniffed the air above me, something he’d always said he loved—the way I smelled, “like the sun,”—delivered yet another blow. Then he glared at me, and any hope I had, which was already to many summers past since he’d disappeared on me, breaking a promise, died.

  The kiss today, although delivered to cause pain, did something else, too. It made me feel like some of the old me was still inside. And God, how I have missed the me before … everything good was gone.

  Stepping out of my closet, after taking too long to pick out something that would hide my body in a much different way than I’d always hidden it before, I toss the dark navy jeans and the mustard yellow sweater on my bed before applying body lotion.

  With all the changes in my life, one thing that hasn’t is my body lotion/sunscreen combo. It’s the only thing my mom ever taught me how to make in the kitchen.

  A quarter cup of coconut oil, two tablespoons of zinc oxide, a quarter cup of pure aloe vera gel, a few drops of geranium, ylang-ylang, vetiver, and one drop of cedarwood essential oils, all mixed together, and not only am I protected from the sun, but apparently, I smell like it.

  Or, at least I did, once upon a time.

  Walking into the sports complex, I search for Nina and the others then look at my phone. I’m five minutes early. Breaking my own social rules now, too, I see.

  We’re never early.

  “What are you wearing?” comes from behind me in a low chuckle.

  Rolling my eyes, I look behind me. “Jeans, Harrison.”

  “Since when does Gabrielle Morales-Ortez wear jeans on any other day but Friday, and only then on rare occasions?”

  “Today,” I snip.

  “And please tell me you dug that sweater out of the back of your closet from your porky days, because—”

  “Shut up, Reeves.” Truth Steel’s voice comes from behind me. “It’s in style. Just because you can never change from prep school perv and try something fresh, doesn’t mean she can’t enjoy a casual moment. This is a baseball game, not the fucking Met.”

  She links her arm through mine. “Come sit with us?”

  “Yeah, sure, I mean, until Nina and the girls get here, then I can just sit with them.”

  “That’s up to you, but my parents like you, Gabrielle.”

  “And you?”

  She stops and looks at me. “Our issue is sorted … unless you plan on—”

  “I don’t plan on anything but counting down the days until I’m free of this place.”

  She smiles. “Same. Now, come on.”

  Walking up the bleachers, I look down, not wanting to make eye contact with any of them, because yes, I’m not only ashamed of my actions, but I’m not anymore forgiving than Justice is, so this is hard for me—hard to admit I’m not deserving of their kindness.

  Truth has forgiven me—that’s obvious—but I’m not convinced that, if Tobias wasn’t in the picture, she would have done so.

  Her cousins, Kiki, Brisa and, the youngest, Tris, certainly haven’t extended the olive branch. Brisa is cordial. Kiki … well, I haven’t seen her in a couple days; otherwise, she tolerates me. But Tris, the youngest, is straight-up intimidating, and not just to me, but to everyone. I swear even teachers and staff members cross the hall when she’s coming so they don’t get in her way.

  As awful as this is to admit, even to myself, I don’t blame them one bit. All they know is the me before my life imploded. The me who will do whatever it takes to hide secrets. The me who doesn’t even recognize herself in the mirror. The me who honestly wouldn’t have given a damn had it not been for Justice, and not the Justice who calls me awful names because of the me I’ve become. Not the Justice who pushes me against vehicles, lockers, whispering threats that would surely cause my reputation harm. Not the Justice who kept me awake half the night, due to an inner battle between the old and new me about why I allow it with him and would have crushed anyone else with threats and The Sound app posts by now.

  When I finally allowed the realization to set in, I realized I’ve become a weak, horrible person, whereas he’s become stronger. And it became as obvious as the sand on my knees that I would shamelessly do anything to keep the lies I’ve told from spilling, like his cum on my dress, a dress I sold ten dresses to buy just the one, to keep up appearances, allowing me to continue to hide my secrets.

  “Good to see you, Gabrielle,” Tara says, and I look up into the softest, kindest eyes. Eyes of a mother. A real mother. “Have a seat.”

  “Thanks,” I say as I sit beside her.

  She opens up a small cooler and hands Truth a bottle of blue-colored water. “You’re going to dance after, right?”

  “Yeah, didn’t want to miss their last game.”

  Tara pulls out a wrap and hands it to her. “You’ll miss Taco Tuesday. Eat up.”

  “Got any extra, Aunt Tara?” Max asks.

  “Always does,” Cyrus says, reaching across her lap and grabbing a few wraps. He gives me a quick wink. “Gonna sit here, you gotta eat.”

  “I’m good, but …” I stop when he narrows his eyes. “Okay, then.”

  “Stop bullying our kids’ friend.” Tara elbows him softly, so softly that I’m unsure how he even felt it. He’s big, like bigger than Justice big.

  “She’s not just their friend. She’s Justice’s girlfriend.” Tris’s smile is all kinds of fake.

  I feel my face immediately become engulfed in flames.

  “I mean, I think so, anyway, the way they were sucking face and grinding on each other after school implies it.”

  One of Truth’s uncles reaches over and messes up her hair. “You trying to raise hell again, Trouble?”

  She looks back at him and glares. “Kindly remove your hand from my hair, Xavier, before I unleash hell on you.”

  “Yeah, Dad, her boyfriend’s here; don’t mess with the do,” Patrick says, sitting next to his father.

  She gives him a look that would turn anyone to stone, and he puts his hands in the air. “My bad.”

  She turns away from them and looks at Tara. “Yeah, so, if she spends the night again, you might want to do an hourly bed check.”

  Trouble is too kind a nickname for her.

  When I feel laser beam eyes on me, I look to my side, to find Cyrus leaning forward, elbows on his knees, looking at me.

  “So, you two got it all straightened out the other day?”

  I look at Truth, who smiles and nods.

  “Yeah, I guess we did,” I answer.

  “Was it the right hook you delivered inside his vehicle in the driveway?”

  I’ve had some bad days in my life—scratch that, years—and never have I ever wanted to be swallowed up by the earth until now.

  Again, I look at Truth, and she nods.

  “Might have been,” I answer.

  “They seem to like to be rough with one another,” Tris says.

  “Tris,” another one of the men says, “not sure what’s gotten into you, but you need to step back and reassess your attitude.”

  She looks back at him. “Nothing
wrong if people like a little rough play, as long as they’re both consenting.”

  “Okay.” The blonde stands. “You, me, walk now.”

  Tris turns her back to what I assume is her mother. “I’ll pass.”

  “Wasn’t a request, Miss Thing. Let’s go.”

  “Fine, Bekah.” She stands.

  “Kitten, have a seat. I got this.” Her father stands.

  “Zandor, I can handle it,” Bekah replies.

  “Shouldn’t have to. Not from your own kid.” He looks at Tris. “Don’t care if you have your period or—”

  “Dad!” she yells, throwing her hands in the air as she stands. “Shut, u—”

  “You finish that, and you’re grounded for a good thirty years,” he snaps at her. “Now let’s go.”

  As soon as they walk away, Cyrus lifts his chin to me. “You good?”

  “I’m fine.” My voice literally cracks, and he has to fight back a laugh.

  Truth whips around and says, “It’s funny that they go at it like teenagers should be expected to, but you catch Tobias and me in my room, snuggling on my bed, and you flip?”

  “Yet to flip, T. The boy’s still alive, isn’t he?” Cyrus growls.

  “The boy’s name is Tobias,” she snaps.

  “And I like him … unless I see him in your bed.”

  She leans forward. “I like him in my—”

  “Okay,” Tara interrupts them, “I think the game’s about to start.”

  “What did we miss?” I hear before I feel a hip nudging mine. “Move those asses left, crew. Far left. We’re playing the nuns, so …” He pauses, I’m pretty sure he’s Kiki’s father. “C, what’s Max call them?” He reaches over me, grabs a wrap from the cooler, and hands it to his wife as the whole crew moves left.

  “Westside crew. They’re on their way.” She laughs, rolling her eyes as she hands him back the wrap. “It has meat in it.”

  “Shit. Sorry, C. I’ll pick it off.”

  “I made some vegetarian ones, too,” Tara says, digging into the cooler.

  “Perfect,” he says then looks at Cyrus. “So, what did we miss?”

  “Game hasn’t started yet,” Cyrus tells him, still looking at Truth.

  “Yeah, but we just passed Z and little Trouble, both looking all sorts of pissed off, and now you and Truth are having a stare-off. Catch me up, newbie.” He nudges me.

  “Me?” I ask.

  “Yeah, what did we miss?” Max says, plopping down in front of me then reaching to grab a wrap from the cooler.

  I look at Truth, who’s still exchanging looks with her dad, and then back at him and shrug.

  He wipes his hand off on his jeans and extends it. “Jase.”

  I shake it then look at the field to see Justice staring up at us.

  Jase nudges me with his knee. “You got a name?”

  Max laughs. “Yeah, tell him your name.”

  “Gabrielle.”

  His eyebrows pop up, and his wife immediately elbows him, whispering, “Be nice.”

  Unable to escape my own version of hell, I look at him. “I apologized for being awful to your daughter. She didn’t deserve it. And I’ll apologize to you, as well. I’m sorry I wasn’t nice to your daughter when she first moved here.”

  He swings his eyes to Max and asks him, “Over the Peter Pan kid?”

  Max laughs. “I guess there’s something about a guy in tights here at Seashore.”

  He looks to Cyrus. “You good with newbie?”

  Cyrus answers, still staring at Truth, “Yeah, she and Truth are friends, and I just found out she and Justice are dating.”

  Jase looks back at me. “So, you gave up tights for some Steel, huh?”

  “Jase,” Carly scolds, “leave the poor girl alone.”

  “C, she’s not a poor girl. She lives in that castle in the clouds, and from what I heard, she can dish it out. And the fact that she’s sitting here tells me she can hold her own.” He holds up his fist. “Good choice, newbie.”

  I give him a light tap with my fist. “Thanks.”

  I look back at the field and see Justice shake his head. Then he pulls his ball cap down to cover his eyes before turning around.

  I look down, and Jase nudges me. “Not sure you’ll ever get him in tights, but baseball pants are—”

  Truth starts laughing and looks over. “Oh my God, Uncle Jase, leave her alone.”

  He winks at her. “Sorry, T, I’ve been stuck in the hospital for days, unable to talk above a whisper. Just need to blow off some steam, you know?”

  Concerned, I look at him.

  He looks at me, then at Max, then back at me. “Lemme see your middle finger?”

  “What?”

  “Dad, it’s new,” Max tells him.

  “So they haven’t given you the mark of the beast, yet, huh?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Nothing. Just means you aren’t in that deep. These little assholes are tougher than we were. Keep all kinds of secrets. They just don’t trust you enough yet.”

  “Jase!”

  He leans in. “I trust you, Gabrielle, so you make sure to keep this secret.”

  “Dad,” Max says in warning.

  Jase ignores him and smiles bigger. “Two more little heartbreaker bad asses came into the world a couple days ago.”

  I can’t help but mirror his smile. “Yeah?”

  He holds up two fingers. “Boys.”

  “Congratulations.”

  “And we hold that shit tight as a nun’s—”

  “Jase Steel,” Carly hisses.

  He smirks, clearly enjoying getting a reaction from his wife. “Doesn’t leave this crew, because the mommas are going to protect their little cubs with everything they are, like we do ours, and don’t want paparazzi showing up to get the first picture. You feel me?”

  I nod. Then he holds out a fist, and I bump it.

  “Now, hand me another wrap, will you? Poppa bear is starving.”

  I hand him a wrap.

  When Zandor and Tris return, they are followed by what I assume is the Westside crew.

  Max leans back on his elbow. “Blond guy, my mom’s cousin, Abe; his wife, Nikki; their daughters, Fawn and Dromida O’Donnell. Dark-haired woman, a cousin, Valentina; her husband, Franco; and the other set of twins in the family, Francesca and Antoinette. The couple with Uncle Z and Tris, Uncle Z’s best friend from Italy, Sabato; his wife Melyssa; their daughter, Torrance; and their son, Marcello, is playing ball.”

  “They all came for him?”

  Max smiles and shrugs. “We all used to play together, so I’m guessing they all came for bragging rights.”

  I nod.

  “You wanna repeat the names; etch them in your memory?”

  “Got it, I think.”

  “Yeah, let’s hear it.”

  “Westside crew.”

  Max laughs. He’s got a good laugh and dimples, like his father.

  “Works for me, but mark my word, they’re all gonna be here soon.”

  “Your old school that bad?”

  “Bad enough, but Abe”—he points to the blond man— “was a killer surfer back in his day, and his girls are pretty badass, too.”

  “They’re beautiful.”

  “And related.” He laughs.

  “Right, which means you’re going to be working overtime to keep the wolves at bay.”

  “Won’t be a problem. Marcello is even scarier than Tris.” He smirks. “He’ll handle it all.”

  “The two of them together would probably cause half the staff to quit,” I say.

  “The two of them are together, since they were toddlers.” He chuckles.

  I notice the girl—Torrance, I think—looking out at the field, biting her lower lip and waving a coy, little wave at someone. I look to see who it is.

  “She’s got the hots for your man.” Max chuckles, obviously noticing me looking.

  “Isn’t she related?” I ask.

  “Nah, but you�
�re safe.”

  I look at him. “Meaning?”

  “JT’s never dated—or whatever the hell it is you two have going on—anyone who wants a long-lasting relationship. And the girl will probably hold her V-card until she’s thirty, which definitely isn’t something JT would go for.”

  “Why’s that?”

  He looks at me skeptically.

  “Don’t worry, Max; I’m not looking for a husband in high school or anytime in the next twenty years. Just something to play with while I’m here.”

  “Then perfect.” He winks. “JT thinks young love’s a joke. The first lie a person tells themselves, and the first scar they inflict upon themselves.”

  “Interesting.”

  “So, none of us play the game that only fools play.” He looks at Torrance. “Well, JT, Patrick, Amias, and me. Marcello’s too far gone.”

  After a few moments of silence, I nudge him with my knee, and he looks back. “Congrats on becoming an uncle.”

  He makes an explosion with his hands and laughs. “Crazy, right?”

  “I’m thinking they’re lucky little guys to be born into a family this close.”

  “Yeah, it’s great when you don’t feel like you’re suffocating.” He winks.

  Heartbreak

  Gabrielle

  Halfway through the game, Nina, Lidia, Carrie, and Demi show up and sit one row in front of Max.

  Nina looks up at me and almost laughs. “Who are you wearing?”

  “Louis Vuitton jeans and … I don’t know, Bottega Veneta. Why?”

  “It’s totally not you,” she rebukes then turns around.

  “You gonna let a B-list bitch do you like that, Gabs?” Max asks.

  “Whatever, Max,” she says loud enough to garner the attention of everyone around us—Justice’s family.

  “Nina,” I warn in a very low tone, hoping no one around us hears her.

  “What?” she snaps much louder than necessary.

  I stand up. “Move.”

  “How about you move?” She stands, popping her hip and placing her hand on it.