Vengeance Road

by Christine Feehan

  EIGHTEEN

  Steele nudged Breezy with his shoulder as she put away the last of the dishes she always insisted on washing even though they had a state-of-the-art dishwasher. “Will you go swimming with us?” The way her hair curled and waved in big swaths, highlighting the gold strands, always fascinated him.

  Steele loved having Breezy and Zane in their home. Most of the time he couldn’t sleep, getting up numerous times to stare down at his son’s face or his woman’s. They both slept peacefully, something that was nearly impossible for him. Breezy kept his demons at bay, giving him enough time to initially fall asleep, but within a few hours or so, they were back.

  He didn’t mind getting up and prowling around the house to ensure every door and window was locked and the security system was on. He’d had to get after Breezy daily because she had a tendency to go out a door and, when she came back in, forget to lock it or turn on the security system. Truthfully, that made him a little crazy, but he promised himself he’d be patient about it. Even with what happened to Zane, she didn’t get that the doors needed to be locked at all times.

  They both wanted Zane sleeping in their room with them, just grateful they had him, neither wanting to have him far from them even at night, but the little boy woke up at any noise. The third night they fixed up the sitting room off their master bedroom as a nursery. Zane went right to sleep, and as they stared at the monitor, he slept perfectly.

  Breezy sang. All the time. Steele loved that. Loved it. She sang to Zane as she dressed him for the day. When she changed him. When she fed him. She sang as she cooked meals. Maestro and Keys sometimes came down to play instruments. He’d ordered a piano because he had enough room for one and Maestro said Zane should have it.

  He noticed Breezy loved music, especially when they all got together. Zane was wild about the music, and it was clear to Steele that the boy would always want to be around it. The music sessions often deteriorated into Zane banging on pots and pans like he was playing the drums, but they all had a great time.

  Zane clung a little more to Breezy than he had in the past, at least according to her, but he wasn’t having nightmares. He liked all the club members when they came around. He didn’t appear to be shy or in the least afraid of them. He liked that she encouraged their son to get to know everyone. She didn’t hold the boy back at all. Each of the members of Torpedo Ink spent time with Zane. She watched them closely, but she gave them the opportunity, and he appreciated her even more for that.

  Steele took his time getting to know his son—or rather, letting his son get to know him. Zane liked the water, and Steele’s first priority was to make him water safe. He made certain Zane knew that if he wanted to swim, to come to Steele and Steele would take him in. The boy loved the water, and the pool was heated so even in the cold they could swim.

  Steele took him into the water several times a day, holding him close at first and then teaching him to hold his breath and how to swim. They went in at night before bedtime, with the idea it would help Zane sleep. Steele was hoping it would help him sleep. It didn’t, but he found he enjoyed the time swimming as much as Zane seemed to.

  “Can’t, Steele. I’m going into Sea Haven. Did Transporter ever bring my truck back? I don’t want to take your truck, it’s too big.”

  His breath stilled in his lungs. At no time had Breezy ever indicated she wanted to leave the safety of their home. He straightened slowly from where he’d been leaning against the counter, watching her do the last of the dishes. “Your truck?”

  She sighed and pushed back the thick mass of her wild hair. “Yes, honey. My truck. The one I drove here all the way from Santa Fe. I know you think it’s junk, but it’s mine.”

  “It isn’t safe. You know it isn’t safe, and so do I.” Let her fight with him over the old rusty pickup she’d driven. And the thing wasn’t in her name. It was in her boss’s name. It didn’t matter that she had a piece of paper saying she’d bought it from the woman. The title wasn’t in her name or Code would have found her a long time ago. If push came to shove, he could throw that at her—and he would.

  “That’s not true.” She stopped. Took a breath and then nodded. “I can see why you wouldn’t think it was safe, but I need my own vehicle. Transporter is good with engines. He can fix it, can’t he? He’s been busy, coming with us and all, but the pickup actually ran good.”

  “Babe.” One word. That said it all. She knew better.

  She waited and when he didn’t speak, she went to step past him. He caught her around the waist, his arm a bar, blocking her.

  “I can buy you something else.” Something with armor. “We’ll head down to Santa Rosa or the Bay and get you something that is safer for Zane.” That was always a good move. Breezy responded to all things that had anything to do with Zane’s safety.

  She thought that over. “I hate that you have to buy it for me.”

  “Damn it, Breezy. We’re . . .” He paused. Took a breath. There was that pride she’d developed and with it came stubbornness. “Let’s get married. What’s mine belongs to you anyway. Not the bike, but the rest of it. All of it. It’s mostly got your name on it if it’s worth anything.”

  Breezy looked shocked. “You want to get married?”

  His heart skipped a beat. “Don’t you? You’re in love with me. You know how I feel about you. We have a son.”

  “Marriage is something you don’t take lightly, Steele. You don’t propose in order to get your way over a car.”

  She sounded so snippy he wanted her right there all over again. He’d taken her once on top of the dishwasher already. He could again if she gave him that voice. Made him as hard as a damned rock.

  “I told you I wanted to marry you, back when we were first together I wanted to put my name on you.”

  “Like a brand. I’m not cattle.”

  He stepped deliberately into her space. “You’re anything but, woman, and you know that. Yes or no? You going to marry me? You already have your name on the house and bank account. If something had happened to me, the club would have continued to try to track you down because you would have gotten it all.”

  He saw by her expression that was big. “Baby, I told you. I was coming after you. I bought the house for you. I want to marry you, but if you want to wait and spend more time with me, I’ll be okay with that too.” He shrugged his shoulders, going for casual when he was feeling anything but. He’d promised himself he’d be honest with her. “I’m well aware I need the security of marriage more than you do, but I can wait. It will happen eventually.”

  He despised that he couldn’t quite get over wondering from one hour to the next if Breezy could really love him, but it was getting better. Slowly, but he was getting there.

  “Of course I want to marry you,” she said, and instantly her face changed to one of suspicion. “You don’t already have some huge ring that will weigh down my entire hand, do you? Because if you do, we’re taking it back.”

  He found himself smiling all over again. “No, we can pick that out together.”

  “Okay then, but I still want my truck back. I need my own ride.”

  He nodded. “I get that, baby. A car isn’t going to break us. I don’t ask a lot of you.” That was a damn fucking lie, but she didn’t know it. “Do it for me. Let me get rid of the truck. If you think your boss in Santa Fe needs it back, we’ll get it to her. Otherwise, we’ll have Transporter fix it up for Kenny or Darby. But let me get a car I think is safe for you and Zane.”

  He realized the moment he said Transporter could fix it up for Kenny or Darby, she would wonder why it couldn’t be fixed up for her. He saw that on her face, but then, because she was Breezy, she hooked her palm around the nape of his neck.

  “I will. I’ll drive whatever car you want me to, but honey, you don’t live your life safe. You never have. But I still, right now, need transportation. You’re going to stay
here and teach our son to swim, and I’m going to go into town. I guess I’ll have to take the monster truck.”

  “You’re going into town? You didn’t mention that you needed anything.” He kept his voice very neutral when he wanted to yank her into his arms and crush her to him.

  “I knew you had another swim lesson planned with Zane and I thought I could do a little shopping. There’s a new recipe I found that I wanted to try.”

  His heart pounded. Hard. The pressure in his chest hurt. “Baby, you want to go somewhere, you just say so. We can postpone the swim lessons. I’ll drive you in.”

  He hated the monster truck, as she called it. Sometimes he couldn’t breathe in that truck, but it was necessary when they took Zane with them. He needed the open air surrounding him. The wind in his face. He wanted Breezy behind him, so close he could feel her body as if they were locked together intimately. He needed that.

  “That’s silly, Steele. I can go by myself. And that’s another thing. You haven’t been away from here in the last week. You need to go out with Maestro and Keys and ride. All of you are getting a little crazy.”

  She still sounded happy. Carefree. She didn’t get it. He couldn’t leave her. He didn’t want her leaving either. Unless he took her to the clubhouse. She’d be safe at the clubhouse surrounded by his brothers and sisters. He pressed his palm to his chest over his rapidly beating heart. He’d done everything he knew how to in order to ensure Breezy and Zane were safe.

  It took a little arranging to find the right cleaning crew for the house, one that fit, but with the cameras everywhere, Steele relaxed enough to allow strangers in once a week. The cleaners had eyes on them all the time, but that didn’t matter. Breezy insisted on cleaning their suite as well as Zane’s little room right off of theirs, and Steele was okay with that—maybe even thankful.

  He had an app on his phone that allowed him to check on his family whenever he needed to—which was all the time. He hadn’t considered that Breezy would take it into her head to run off by herself somewhere. She was right. He needed to ride, but he hadn’t figured out how to ride and keep both Breezy and Zane with him.

  “I’ll drive you into town and go out later with Maestro or Keys.”

  Breezy turned slowly, shaking her head, resting her back against the counter, her eyes staring directly into his. Sometimes when she did that, he felt like she could see his every sin. He stepped in front of her, planting a hand on the counter on either side of her, effectively caging her in with his arms.

  “You trying to get rid of me, woman?” He knew how to distract her. He kissed the side of her neck. Ran his lips up to her ear and bit down on her earlobe. He felt the little shiver that went through her and licked at the little sting.

  “I want you to be you, Steele. You need to ride with your brothers. I didn’t want the club life, and I’m still a little nervous about it, but you need it. You haven’t been to the clubhouse since we’ve been back.”

  So much for his distraction. He was well aware that although she’d agreed, she was still leery of the lifestyle. That contributed to him getting a little crazy about leaving her alone. He might not have been physically to the clubhouse, but all his brothers—Czar included—had been to his home. They’d come, a few at a time, getting Breezy used to them being around. They’d done that for him. Most clubs wouldn’t have bothered, certainly not the Swords, and he knew she appreciated it. She couldn’t help being a little uneasy.

  He knew Code had monitored the Swords as well as every news outlet. Speculation had it that the Swords had been involved in some war with a rival club and the other club had slaughtered the president of the local chapter and several members of his crew, both at the Abernathy estate and in town at a motel that was owned by the Swords. The other rumor was that Boone had made vicious enemies in prison and they had come to his family home to kill him, and his son and grandson had been targeted as well. The motel was considered a separate incident.

  It didn’t matter to Steele what the world thought, as long as no one was coming after his family. Fortunately, Bridges hadn’t communicated very well with others in his club. He’d liked to play his cards close to his chest. Most hadn’t known what he was up to. That worked out well as far as Steele was concerned. There was no chatter among the Swords, that Code could find, that included anything about Zane, Breezy or Steele. He hadn’t given Breezy any details of the “massacre” at the estate or at the motel, and she didn’t ask. He knew she didn’t look at any of the news reports, and he wanted to keep it that way. He wanted his woman breathing easy.

  His phone buzzed and, still holding his woman against the counter, he took it out and glanced down. Relief flooded him. “Czar needs us at the clubhouse. He’s scheduled a meeting with Inez and Frank. Remember them? They own the grocery store in Sea Haven. We’re trying to open a smaller version of their store here in Caspar. We figure it will help bring in the locals if Inez and Frank are partners with us and do the actual running of it the first few months.”

  “Why does he need us there?” Breezy asked.

  “You’re kidding, right?” Steele said. He eased into a full upright position, taking a step away from her. Watching her warily. This text from Czar couldn’t have come at a better time. He needed to find a balance and he wasn’t there yet. Czar had given him an out by requesting their appearance at the clubhouse. “You’re perfect, baby. You represent everything we don’t. Normal. Good. You’re a mother with a beautiful baby boy. They’ll fall in love with you. You don’t look like an assassin.”

  “You don’t either,” she said, her palm cupping the side of his jaw.

  He loved when she did that, touching him so intimately. “You’re lying your pretty little ass off, baby, but I’m okay with that. We need to grab our son and get moving.” As distractions went, he thought it was a good one. She might not want club life, but she’d been raised in a club. When the president said he needed you, her automatic response was to go immediately.

  “He’s up in his room still asleep,” she said.

  He knew that. He’d come downstairs after staring at Zane for twenty minutes, breathing him in, after first touching that wild hair with his fingers as if he could absorb every detail about the boy. He’d come into the kitchen determined to sit his woman on the counter and have her for a snack. She woke him up every morning, her mouth paradise and her body hot as hell, so tight she took his breath every time.

  He didn’t dare push his luck by saying they had time for sex. She’d give it to him, but she might decide to ask why he was keeping her a virtual prisoner. He’d hoped she wouldn’t notice, but Breezy noticed everything. She was already suspicious because he wasn’t riding, and he was always on his bike. She knew that about him. She’d lived with him for a year and he’d gone out every day, even when it rained. She was going to question him, and he had to come up with an answer and soon.

  When he turned to go, she caught his hand. “Honey, I need a little reassurance.”

  His eyebrow shot up. “Reassurance?” he echoed, not reading her. What was she going to ask for? Something he couldn’t give her? What if she just refused to be part of the club now that she’d gotten Zane back? Breezy was smart, very intelligent, and she wasn’t above using the club to get the boy back and then . . . He cut off that way of thinking, as it could only lead to disaster. He was supposed to be evolving, becoming a better man.

  “We’re heading to the club and I’m feeling . . . I don’t know. Like something isn’t quite right between us. I don’t know what I did. If you’ll just tell me, I can do better.” She looked around the room. “Everything’s in its place. I thought you liked the meal. I said I’d get a different vehicle if that was important to you. What’s wrong?”

  She thought it was her. Breezy thought the fuckup in the room was her. He caught the front of her T-shirt and pulled her to him, taking her up-turned mouth. Hard. Possessive. Like he liked it
. He could make love to her, be gentle, explore her body, worship her, upstairs in that bed. Down here, in any room, he took her the way he wanted. He showed her exactly what she did to him.

  He kissed her over and over, devouring her. Not letting her up for air. Breathing for her. For both of them. When he lifted his head, he caught the hem of her shirt and pulled it over her head. “In the dining room.”

  The bitch of a dining room that was so enormous he could have the entire club over for dinner and most likely anyone they wanted to bring with them as a guest. He had plans for that table. The moment he saw it, it wasn’t about feeding his brothers and sisters; it was about fucking his woman right there with that extremely expensive chandelier shining down on her body, spotlighting her soft skin for him.

  Breezy walked ahead of him, and he watched her ass. God. His woman. She was a work of art. If he had his way, he would have nude pictures of her on every wall in every room. Front. Back. On her back with her legs spread. On her hands and knees, thighs and pussy glistening. Hungry for him. Her face in the moment her orgasm rushed over her. Consumed her. The look of love she reserved for him alone. He’d have those pictures on every wall because she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen in his life.

  He loved every inch of her. He loved everything about her. The way she walked right to the table and stood waiting. He pointed to her shoes and she kicked them off while he went to the heavy blackout drapes and pulled them, covering the windows. He closed doors, not for privacy because who gave a fuck? Anyone seeing him take his woman would know she was his. Any woman wouldn’t miss the point that there was only Breezy in his world and there would never be any other woman. He closed the doors so that the chandelier would shine light over her skin.

  “Take off your jeans. Everything. I don’t want a stitch on you.”