Anya laughed. “I want out of work. I’ll go tell him to follow Reaper around and make certain he doesn’t get into any trouble. The man was born for trouble.” Her soft laughter faded as she walked away.
Breezy liked them. She liked the way they interacted with one another. The way they all pitched in to help. She didn’t want to like anything about them. They belonged to Steele, and even if the club was everything he’d said they were—and she counted on that to be fact—she wouldn’t take the man back. She just couldn’t. There was no living through another heartbreak.
She kept her head down and finished taking the peel off the last of the potatoes while talk swirled around her. She was conscious of every breath Steele took. Of the masculine way he smelled. Of his colors worn so perfectly on his body. It fit him to be MC. He was hot enough and masculine enough to need three women, not one . . .
“Stop it, Bree, or I’m going to put my mouth on yours, and then I’m not responsible for what happens.” His teeth tugged at her earlobe as his voice whispered in her ear.
She turned her head, smiled up at him, circling his neck with one arm to bring his head down so she could reach his ear. “You never are responsible for what happens when it comes to women, are you?” She kept her voice sweet, trying her best not to allow him to see how much that had hurt.
She went to turn her head, keeping her lashes lowered so he couldn’t read her expression, but his hand was there, under her chin, preventing movement. His mouth came down on hers and then he was just possessing her. Taking her over. Leaving her with nothing of herself because she’d burned up in the fire he generated.
The sounds of men’s voices and laughter faded away. The noises of the kitchen receded. There was only Steele and the heat of his mouth, the commanding way he kissed, demanding her surrender in the way it always had. If he had put her on the counter and ripped her clothes off right there, she would have let him. Nothing mattered but him. It was Steele. Her man. It didn’t seem to matter how many roadblocks she threw up—and rightfully so. It didn’t matter how many times she told herself she had to protect her heart from him. She gave herself to him.
His mouth was a flame, pouring down her throat, spreading through her body, rushing through her veins like a wildfire. Every cell, every nerve ending, came to life, out of control, so that need pulsed through her and roared in her mind. She kissed him because she was helpless to do anything else. She kissed him because she loved him, and she could only pray he didn’t taste that love on her tongue or in the flames rushing back through him.
He lifted his head first, his eyes so dark her heart pounded wildly. She’d seen that look before he’d all but thrown her up against a wall and taken her hard. She tried to step back, shaking her head, desperate to save herself. One hand covered her mouth as she pressed herself against the aisle.
“You can’t do that. Not ever again. Kissing is off-limits, Steele.” Her voice was a thread of sound. She was oblivious to anything and everyone but him. He filled up her vision until she could see only him. It had always been that way. “I mean it. We’re done. Over.”
“Damn it, Bree, we’re not. Why do you keep saying that? I explained why I sent you away. You know I’m not lying about it. That should be enough.”
“Should it? God help me, but I might have been weak enough to take you back if you hadn’t crawled out from under those women. Three, Steele. Not one. Three. Even for you, you have to admit, that was excessive. No way am I getting involved with a man who needs that.”
Somewhere far off, she heard Blythe gasp. She might have turned her head, embarrassed that she’d said something so private aloud, in front of others, but then she remembered there had been nothing private about Steele in the common room of the club. She tried to step away from him, but he caught her firmly against him, locking her there.
“Are we finally going to talk about that, then?”
“No. Not ever. There’s no need, because I don’t care what you do. I’m not your woman, your old lady or anything else to you. Have at it, Steele. Why stop at three women? Why not take on more. You can handle it.” Now her voice was belligerent, and maybe hurt; that was there too, but she didn’t care. “Stop touching me. Stop telling people we’re together. I’m not with you and I’m not going to be.”
The worst was, she was certain he could handle any number of women. He had more stamina than she had imagined possible, and she’d certainly seen the men in the Swords’ club with women. They didn’t last anywhere near as long as Steele, nor were they able to go multiple times as he could. She hated that it was the truth, that he probably could handle several women.
“I hate to tell you, baby, but you are with me and you’re going to be for the rest of your fuckin’ life, so get used to the idea. The only way we’re going to work out our issues is by talking. So, yeah, we’re going to talk about this.”
“Don’t you dare use that tone of voice on me.” The one that made her freeze. The one that shook her right to her deepest core and shredded every bit of hard-won self-confidence she had. She couldn’t bear for him to be angry with her. Worse, she was programmed to freeze if anyone raised their voice to her. “I didn’t do anything wrong. That was you. Oh. Wait. You don’t consider that wrong.” Sarcasm dripped from her voice.
“Maybe it isn’t wrong, Bree, but it isn’t something a man with a commitment would do, especially a man like me. You were gone. Three years, woman, and I didn’t think you were ever coming back. Three fucking years, Breezy, and you had my son. You could have written . . .”
“Really? Written to where? I had no idea where you were. When you threw me out, you wore Swords colors and you made it clear you wanted nothing to do with me and you had no intentions of having a family. I wasn’t coming back. I didn’t come back to you. So, have at it. Next party, drown yourself in as many women as you like, and I’ll do the same with men. We can celebrate the fact that you’re an asshole.”
There was a long silence. Her heart pounded when she dared to look at his face. She’d never seen him look like that before and his expression shook her.
“If you never hear another word I say, Bree, you hear this.” Steele framed her face with both hands and stared straight into her eyes. “Another man touches you and I’ll kill him. He won’t die easy, baby, but he’ll die.” His voice was pitched very low. Each word was annunciated clearly so there was no way to misunderstand what he said. “You think long and hard about that before you ever let another man put his hands on you.”
There was no way one sliver of doubt could creep in. He meant what he said. A frisson of fear crept down her spine because he wasn’t finished. He kept staring into her eyes, and it was more than intense. He was taking her somewhere terrifying. For the first time, she could see the killer in him.
“I know more ways to take a man apart than you can imagine. I kill easily, sweetheart, and not many can say that. Call me a psychopath, call me whatever the hell you want, but don’t you ever be stupid enough to allow another man to touch you if you don’t want that man dead. Are we clear?”
She couldn’t take a breath. There was no air. He had always had the ability to scare her. He was a big man and clearly dangerous. He was also MC. But not like this. He was different, and that difference wasn’t exciting or thrilling—it was just plain scary.
“Have I made myself clear, Breezy?” His voice had dropped another octave, dropped lower so he was nearly whispering, but that felt more compelling, more menacing, than if he had yelled at her. “Because if I haven’t, we need to go over the rules again. Do you understand the rules?”
She nodded mutely. His thumbs slid over her cheeks, barely there, but she felt his touch winding through her body slowly, leaving behind a flutter of wings, a need that just wouldn’t leave her no matter how hard she tried to get over him. Even now, seeing this other side of him, the one that scared her to death, she still responded to his touc
h.
“We’re going to talk through every issue we have. You have to be willing to at least talk about things, Breezy. You can’t just shut the door on us. Whatever we had between us is stronger than ever. Now we have Zane.”
Zane was the reason she didn’t want to take any chances, but she couldn’t say that to him. She was too afraid of him getting angry with her again. He’d never done that before—as in never. She didn’t know how to respond to him when he was like this, so she remained that frozen little mouse she hated, the one that went still when she was threatened.
Steele sighed and stepped back, giving her space, allowing her to breathe. Her mind was still shut down, and she didn’t move, but at least he couldn’t feel the tremors wracking her body.
“Would you take the platters of eggs and bacon into the dining room, please, Steele?” Blythe asked.
Her voice startled Breezy. She’d forgotten anyone else was in the kitchen with them. Steele, still looking at her, nodded. Blythe put the platters into his hands and waited until he was out of the room. The women gave a collective sigh.
“I had no idea Steele could get so intense,” Blythe said. “Are you all right, honey?”
Breezy shook her head. “I don’t know him at all. And he doesn’t know me, not the way I am, or at least the way I can be when he isn’t around. I’m not going back to him.” She lifted her chin and met Blythe’s eyes. “I’m not.”
“It’s clear,” Alena said, “that you’re in love with him. Why don’t you want him back?”
“I’ve had my fill of club life and coming in second. Being treated like trash. I’m not going back to that life or raising my son in it.”
“Steele would never treat you like trash,” Lana objected. “Nor would he put you second to the club.”
“Really? He did. I was so terrified when he told me to leave and told him so. It didn’t matter to him. He stayed with the club, with Czar, and told me he didn’t want anything to do with me. That I was nothing to him. As for club life, I walked in after one of the famous club parties. It looked and smelled the same to me. He doesn’t need me. He’s got any number of willing women.”
Breezy knew she sounded bitter, but she couldn’t help it. “While he was partying, I was having a child alone and learning how to survive outside a club. I did it, and for the first time, I felt pride. Self-esteem. I’m not going back to that scared little mouse standing frozen in front of him, too terrified to say what I think.”
“Honey,” Lana said, her voice gentle. “You’ve heard me tell my brothers to go to hell. Do you think they hit me? That they would dare hit me? I’d slit their fucking throats if they tried it, not that they ever would. They aren’t like that.”
“Steele just threatened to kill a man, and he meant it, Lana,” Breezy reminded.
“He threatened to kill the man, Bree,” Lana pointed out. “Not you. He would never lay a hand on you. Not like that, no matter how upset he was with you.”
“Bree.” Darby glanced at her mother and then her gaze jumped back to Breezy’s face. “I know you don’t know me very well, but Czar and Blythe always encourage us to say what we think. I’ll admit I’ve never seen Uncle Steele like that, but I did see the way he touched you. So gentle. He wasn’t going to hurt you. When we first came here with Czar and Blythe, we were scared, and every time one of the men moved too fast or sounded scary, we jumped—or froze. The men who took us tried to train us like that, and they only had us for a few days. They had you for years.”
Breezy’s heart nearly stopped beating. She had never considered herself a victim. She was born into the club life. She was a daughter of a high-ranking member. She was a useful club asset. She was a lot of things, but not a victim. What Darby said to her made sense. She’d been trained to be a mouse. To stand still and never voice her opinion. To stay as quiet as possible, to soothe tempers, to anticipate needs, whatever they might be.
To some extent she was still that girl and always would be. She had trained herself to notice details, to observe, so that had translated over to her waitress work in serving her customers. She knew what Zane needed almost before he did. She’d always been good at anticipating Steele’s needs or wants. She hadn’t considered that training; she’d thought it was her nature. Now, having heard Darby and giving it consideration, she knew it was both.
“He’d never hurt you,” Blythe said with complete confidence. “You’re Torpedo Ink whether or not you claim them. You belong. They will surround you with protection. They’ll surround your son with protection. You love Steele. There’s not a doubt in my mind that you love that man. Just give it a chance.”
“I don’t share.” She didn’t care how they all tried to explain things away. No one could explain Steele and the other women.
“Men are idiots,” Alena muttered and slipped off her stool. She picked up the platter of potatoes and went into the dining room.
Blythe handed Breezy two pitchers of fresh-squeezed orange juice and picked up the other two. “My sister grows oranges in a greenhouse, so we’re very lucky. Player and Transporter did the honors this morning.”
“They squeezed all the oranges to get the juice?” Breezy was shocked.
“We do have a little machine,” Blythe clarified. “Although if you ask, I’m certain they’ll act like they did it by hand.”
She went out with Lana following behind, carrying the platter of French toast. Breezy stood there for a moment staring at the archway between the kitchen and dining room. She felt like that mouse all over again.
Darby reached out and touched her arm. “They’re all here to figure out how to get Zane back. Think about that. Just keep it in your head that they’re here to help. I told myself that thousands of times and it sank in. Now, for the first time, I think it’s sinking in for Zoe.”
Breezy nodded her head, took a deep breath and followed Darby into the dining room.
SEVEN
Breezy forced her body to work when it wanted to do its frozen-in-place thing. The only chair open at the table was next to Steele. The men were heaping food onto their plates and pretending to stab at the bacon and pancakes on Zoe’s plate. Kenny sat beside Darby. He’d clearly put food on Darby’s plate, afraid the others would eat everything before she even arrived. The plate beside Steele’s also had food on it, evidence that he was looking out for Breezy in spite of their argument.
She placed the pitchers of juice apart on the lower end of the table because Blythe had put her two pitchers on the upper end. The table went from one end to the other of the dining room and had clearly been custom-made. It was beautiful. She couldn’t help admiring the woodwork.
Steele held her chair for her as she slipped into it. She didn’t look at him but at the amount of food on her plate. There was no way she could eat it all, not with her stomach churning the way it was. She couldn’t stop the fine tremors running through her body, over and over. Steele noticed because he always noticed everything about those around him and her in particular.
He leaned into her. “This is good, baby. Just eat, and when the kids go to school, we’ll hash this out. We’ll ride out tomorrow morning before dawn, starting for Louisiana. Code will continue to feed us information so by the time we get there, we’ll know where we’re going. This morning is mainly for him to get as much information as possible.” He picked up her fork and held it out to her.
She took it because she didn’t want to make a scene. The others were talking and laughing together, like one big family, but she knew they were all very aware of her. She didn’t want to give them any reason for turning the spotlight on her. Besides, she wanted to observe them together. The atmosphere was very different from that of any function with the Swords.
“Do you want some of Blythe’s weird pink salt?” Maestro asked and held out a salt shaker. The salt really was pink.
She took it, looking at it suspiciously. “What is
this really?”
Steele nudged her with his shoulder. “Blythe lies and tells us it’s salt, but I don’t think it is. Kenny usually has a contraband salt shaker if you want to try to get it from him, but if you’re caught, Blythe gives you her stern look. It’s pretty cute, but only Czar gets away with saying that to her because she thinks that scowl makes her look badass.” He didn’t bother to lower his voice, although he pretended to.
Blythe was quite a distance down the table from them, but she glared at Steele. “I heard that. I don’t look cute when I’m giving you my meanest look.”
Czar hooked his arm around her neck, brought her in close and took her mouth. Breezy nearly dropped her fork. The kiss wasn’t a little peck. It was intimate and hot, and she considered fanning herself. She should have looked away, but she couldn’t. When Czar let her up, Blythe was pinker than the salt.
“I love that look,” Czar said. “Gives me a hard-on, baby. Every single time. And yeah, it’s cute as hell when you get all badass on us.”
Blythe shook her head, but she was smiling. “It’s salt, Bree. It’s just natural, not processed, and so much better for you. It has all the minerals in it as well. And Kenny, if you have processed salt anywhere on your person or hidden in your clothing . . .” She broke off. “I saw that handoff to Ice.” She snapped her fingers and held out her hand. “I’ll put that with the other two hundred salt shakers I’ve confiscated from the three of you.”
“I wasn’t in on that,” Storm protested, trying to look innocent.
In spite of everything, Breezy found herself laughing with the others. They seemed more like one huge family, the way they interacted. She didn’t know that much about real families—hers had been more than dysfunctional—but each of the club members was so in tune with the others, it was almost as if they knew exactly what the others would say and do before they did it.
Steele was a part of that. He’d always been a part of that, even when he rode with the Swords. These people had ridden with him. His brothers and sisters. Breezy looked around the table as the teasing continued. This was Steele’s family. He belonged. She could understand why he’d chosen them over her. She didn’t know how to be like them. She didn’t fit in because she had no idea how to act.
Vengeance Road Page 13
