Vengeance Road Page 15

  Steele stood next, his fingers an iron band around her upper arm, so that she rose as well. “We’re riding out at three this morning. Dress warm. We’re traveling fast. You’ll need weapons but prepare for a search. We’ll be riding through Diamondback territory and into Swords territory so no colors.”

  Breezy had never heard the authority in his voice like that. He’d certainly told her what to do on occasion, but she realized that power came naturally to him. He wore it easily on his shoulders, so much so that she should have caught it, but they all deferred to Czar. They’d played up his role as the badass when they’d ridden for the Swords. He’d been the one the Swords club members feared, and that had prevented them from really seeing the others. What did Reaper mean about Steele when he said he was the one to watch, not Savage? She was very confused by the changes in all of the Torpedo Ink members.

  Steele pulled her under his shoulder, his arm locking her front to his side, and took her with him right out the door, not even giving her a chance to say good-bye to Blythe or Anya.

  Breezy knew she should pull away from Steele and stand on her own two feet. He wasn’t the kind of man one could give a few inches to, he’d take the mile every time, but she was trying to puzzle out how she had missed the way he carried himself with such complete confidence.

  “Are you really a doctor?”

  He glanced down at her but didn’t slow down on the way to his Harley. Behind them, Maestro and Keys kept pace. She didn’t hear a sound, not even the whisper of their motorcycle boots. The only way she knew they were there was the glimpse of them she caught when she looked back.

  “Yes. A surgeon actually, but I had advanced training in several fields. I don’t practice here for anyone other than the club. Code makes certain I have up-to-date licenses, so if I had to perform surgery on one of them, it would be legal. We’re putting together a little clinic with the latest equipment, so Blythe can bring the kids.”

  She didn’t know what to say to that. It was one more reason why she didn’t belong with Steele. He was intelligent. Really gifted. Off the charts. That, she’d always known. One couldn’t be with him for even a brief time without realizing just how intelligent he really was. She had common sense, but she wasn’t book smart. She’d never had that chance. Bridges had pulled her out of nearly every school she’d ever attended. She’d been lucky to have Delia help her figure out how to do the adult classes to get her GED.

  Steele slipped onto his bike, backed it out and waited for her to tuck her hair into the helmet and climb on behind him. She surrounded him with her arms, locking her hands at his waist. The moment she did, she felt the same rush that had happened earlier, adrenaline moving through her veins like a drug. Motorcycle. Steele. Freedom. In her life, on the back of Steele’s motorcycle was the only time she’d ever experienced the feeling of freedom. She’d loved it. She tried not to love it now, but when the pipes roared and the machine vibrated, coming to life, and they were in the wind, the exhilaration was instantaneous.

  She pressed her body tightly against his and let the wind take away everything the way it had always done. They were leaving in the early morning hours to go find Zane. She couldn’t do a thing about it until then. They had a plan. She wasn’t alone, and she had a much better chance at getting her son back than she’d had before. There was something about Torpedo Ink that inspired confidence, and for the first time since Zane was taken, she really believed she would get him back. Because of them. Torpedo Ink.

  The moment Steele, Breezy and the bike moved together, she felt whole. She knew, because she’d had multiple talks with Delia, that needing someone wasn’t healthy. Wanting them in one’s life was okay, but she said Breezy needed to stand on her own two feet. She’d done that until her father had kidnapped Zane, but she’d never felt whole. It was as if a huge piece of her was missing. Riding with Steele completed her.

  Maybe it was because she was as screwed up as he was. She was a victim of abuse and knew no other life. Steele was the same way. He was complete by being in Torpedo Ink, and she was certain he would always need them. It was just possible she would always need Steele.

  He didn’t turn back down the road leading to the compound but took them up to the highway. She didn’t ask. She didn’t even care. She wanted to ride. They had a lot of hours to kill before they started out, and she just wanted to ride for a while to stop feeling so afraid for her son and to breathe again.

  She knew Steele had already mapped out the shortest route from Caspar to New Orleans. He planned to go right through New Mexico and stop by her apartment to pick up the items on her list—mainly the earlier pictures of Zane. She had told him, during the meeting, that she could live without the photographs if they all believed someone was watching her apartment, but Steele had insisted he couldn’t live without them.

  The members of Torpedo Ink had exchanged looks, ones she couldn’t read. At the time it had felt significant; now she just didn’t care. She would when they were in New Mexico, but going down the highway, she let the roar of the pipes and the wind carry away every problem.

  She blanked her mind against the images of Zane with Bridges or Junk. She had to believe he was in the hands of a woman who cared enough to try to protect a toddler. She refused to think about the pain and humiliation of Steele throwing her out or discovering him with other women. She simply allowed herself to enjoy every second on the motorcycle.

  He took them to the little village overlooking the ocean. Sea Haven extended from the highway to the headlands, spreading out with numerous cute little shops and historical homes. Old water towers rose into the air, making the town feel quaint and authentic.

  He parked the bike in front of the local market. Maestro and Keys parked right beside them and took a careful look around. She saw their gazes sweep the buildings and rooftops, the cars and street. Steele took her hand once she removed the helmet, and she didn’t fight that either. She wasn’t going to allow anything to ruin the joy she got from riding.

  If she wasn’t lying to herself, she had always been proud walking with him like that. Close. Hand in hand. Steele liked to touch her. When he’d been with her, he’d almost always been touching her. She’d liked that. It had made her feel cared for. Now, she knew, that was just part of who he was. It had nothing to do with her. She hoped he’d always be that way with Zane and that it would give her son that same feeling of being cherished as it had her. She wanted that for their child, especially if Steele insisted on being in his life permanently.

  “Inez,” Steele greeted as they entered the grocery store.

  The older woman behind the counter broke into a smile. “Steele, Maestro, Keys, good to see you.”

  Her gaze went to Breezy and then dropped to their linked hands. Immediately, for reasons she was uncertain of, Breezy tried to let go of Steele. It was impossible with his fingers wrapped around hers. He had a large hand, and it completely enveloped hers.

  “Inez, I’d like you to meet my woman. This is Bree Simmons. Baby, this is Inez Nelson and Frank Warner.” He indicated the man seated behind the counter with the older woman.

  Inez beamed before Breezy could put in a quick disclaimer to the fact that she was not Steele’s woman. Truthfully, she didn’t have that kind of courage. One kept club business, especially personal club business, in the club. That had been drilled into her from the time she was a toddler, just as it was being drilled into Zoe, Emily and Darby.

  “Nice to meet you, Bree,” Inez said.

  “Have you thought any more about our proposition?” Steele asked.

  Inez nodded. “It’s a good one. We took it to our silent partner and he agreed it was a very good plan, but he can’t be a part of it. Still, even without him, Frank and I are very interested. When would be a good time for us to drop by and talk things over with you and Czar?”

  Breezy let the conversation flow around her while she watched others in th
e store. Clearly the sight of three very rough-looking Torpedo Ink members wearing their colors didn’t strike fear into anyone’s heart. More, several greeted them. She noticed the women looking more than once.

  Her heart clenched, and she looked down to the floor, an old habit she couldn’t quite break. The moment she did, Steele transferred his hold from her hand to around her waist, his arm a bar, locking her to him. It was a claiming hold. She remembered how he’d done that when they were together. He’d always made her feel so safe and secure. He’d made her feel his.

  “We’ve got a few things going on right now, but Czar will be in touch in a few days,” Steele reassured Inez. He flashed a small smile and urged Breezy down one of the aisles, snagging a basket as he passed it. Maestro and Keys trailed behind them.

  Breezy had no idea what was going on so she remained silent as Steele filled up his basket and the two baskets the other members of Torpedo Ink had with all sorts of food. She recognized that most were her favorites. She tried very hard not to be thrilled that Steele remembered what she liked. He would. Steele didn’t forget things.

  She just couldn’t let herself buy into anything Steele was saying to her. She had before, and she’d gotten her heart broken. This time, she had to look out for Zane. There was no risking herself twice and coming out of it healthy and whole. She forced herself to remember the women Steele had partied with. She closed her eyes and conjured them up. Not one looked anything like her. He couldn’t even say they were a substitute for her.

  “Stop.”

  The whispered command came straight into her ear. She felt his breath exploding in a warm, exasperated puff.

  “Seriously, baby, let it go. Just for now.”

  “You can’t know what I’m thinking.” She tried scowling at him, but she couldn’t meet his eyes because he was right. He was always right.

  “Your face is an open book, sweetheart,” Steele said and caught up a small bag of baked pretzels, her favorite kind. “You’re thinking about walking into the clubhouse and seeing me with those other women. I asked you to hold off thinking about them until I had the chance to explain.”

  “I don’t want your explanation. I’m grateful I saw you with them.” She tilted her chin at him. “Every time I think I might be buying into what you’re selling, I think about them and remember none of it was real and you’re very, very good at conning people—especially women.”

  He nodded. “I am. There’s no question about that, but I wasn’t conning you, and I’m not now.”

  “Because I’m so different from every other woman.” Sarcasm dripped from her voice. “I might have swallowed all this, Steele, if you’d come looking for me, but I have your son and you want him. You think I need to be part of that package, but you’re wrong. I don’t have to be. There are so many couples making it work when they aren’t together. We’ll do just fine apart.”

  “We’re not going to be apart, Breezy. We’re going to talk this out.”

  He made it a decree. There was nowhere to go with that, so she changed the subject. “What kind of deal are you making with that very nice woman?” There was a bite to her voice she couldn’t quite keep out of it, because Inez seemed extremely friendly and not at all a woman involved in anything illegal.

  “She owns this store and we were hoping to get a smaller version up and running in Caspar. We have the funds and she has the name. If we can get her to work the store for us even for just a few days a week for a few months, just to get it going, we can make a success of it. We need her to bring the locals in. She knows her value too.” He flashed a smile Inez’s way.

  “Are you going to be laundering money through the store? Or selling drugs out of it?”

  “No, baby. All businesses in Caspar are legit. We’re putting down roots here. This is our community. You don’t fuck with local royalty, and Inez is just that. Everyone loves her. Besides, her silent partner is Jackson Deveau, and he’s a sheriff.”

  She mulled that over as they paid and got back on the bikes. Could it be the truth? Was Torpedo Ink that different from the Swords? She hadn’t been around any club other than the Swords and those they did business with. The local people here seemed to accept Torpedo Ink—but then there hadn’t been locals at the party taking place at the clubhouse. The Demons had been gone, but she’d seen their colors. She knew patches and what they meant. They weren’t angels any more than Torpedo Ink was.

  Steele took them back down the highway to Caspar, but he didn’t turn toward the Torpedo Ink clubhouse. Instead, he chose a winding road leading to the cliffs above the ocean. From there, he chose a lane that seemed to be more of a long drive than a public street. He slowed the bike even more once he turned away from the ocean and back toward a slight hill all overgrown with tall shrubbery. The road narrowed more, the vines climbing high on trees lining the road, so thick they formed an impenetrable wall on either side, preventing anyone from seeing the landscape, other than the occasional glimpse of light.

  They went through a long archway created by the tree branches. She found herself looking upward at the flowering limbs. It was really quite extraordinary. Breathtaking even. How had Steele found such a place? It was an avenue of pure beauty.

  Then he slowed even more and came to a halt. Breezy sat up straight and looked around her. A house sat straight ahead, tucked into the hillside, rising up like a great palace. It was something out of a fairy tale. Unreal. There weren’t houses like that in real life. The structure stretched out in length, with rounded turrets and wide long windows facing the sea. It rose up maybe three stories, but she couldn’t be sure because one of those stories was tucked into the hillside.

  Steele took her hand and helped her off the bike. She kept her eyes on the house while she removed the helmet, afraid such a beautiful home couldn’t be real.

  “Who lives here?” She didn’t want anyone to call the cops on them and she really, really wanted to look around.

  “It’s ours.”

  Her heart clenched hard in her chest. She scowled at him. “First, Steele, there is no us, so nothing is ours. Second, this place has to be worth millions. Millions. I don’t have a huge concept of real estate and what it’s worth, but this place is enormous. The grounds alone are worth a fortune, and it overlooks the sea.”

  He nodded slowly. “Seven million and some change. We got it for a steal.”

  She felt a little faint. “Steele.” She whispered his name. Shocked. It didn’t occur to her, not even for a moment, that he was kidding her. He wasn’t. She could see that on his face and hear it in his voice. He meant every word.

  “And yes, we are together. There is an us. You. Me. Zane. This is our home. I bought it because we’re putting down roots here. I like the view.”

  “That’s it? You like the view? Where did you get that kind of money?”

  A slow grin transformed his face from dangerous to gorgeous. He looked mischievous, as only Steele could look. “The Swords.”

  EIGHT

  Steele never did anything without a plan. That was why he was vice president of Torpedo Ink. Like Czar, he saw an entire picture, the problems and every possibility along with solutions that worked. His brain worked at an extremely fast speed and remembered details, right down to the smallest particular. Nothing got past him—until Breezy.

  His body had responded to her immediately and, worse, his heart. He’d never had that happen. Not once in all his years. Torpedo Ink was a closed society. They were whole when they were together and none of them—with the exception of Czar—had ever considered that anyone else might be brought into their very fucked-up family. He’d been thrown. Completely.

  He’d known if Czar or the others were aware of how he really felt about Breezy, they would have insisted he take her and leave. He couldn’t do that. He knew that none of them worked away from the others. They functioned because they were together. Whole. They had tremendo
us gaps in their social education, but they could function and survive. Alone, they would fall apart. He couldn’t take the chance that things would go haywire with the person that mattered to him. He also couldn’t leave his family when they needed him. Every gun counted—every single one—when they were up against an international club like the Swords.

  He knew Breezy better than she knew herself. He knew her insecurities. He knew her character. He knew every unselfish thing about her. He especially knew what to appeal to in order to keep her with him. This plan was more important to him than anything in his life had ever been because, like those dark days of his childhood, it was about survival.

  Steele had found that once he had a glimpse of what life could be like when it was good, he couldn’t go back to dark, ugly days and nights. He had existed before Breezy. He’d thought he was free, so it was better than when he’d been a captive forced to do his master’s bidding, but it hadn’t been good. He hadn’t been alive. Breezy had changed all that. Once she was gone, he was back to—nothing. To empty. To an existence he didn’t want anymore.

  Her fingers on his skin, her mouth on him, his body moving in hers, she’d taken away every trace of those earlier days, the nightmare existence he’d lived. The more he’d taken her, the less he’d felt that yawning abyss threatening to swallow him whole. Now he had her back, and he wasn’t about to lose the most important war of his life.

  He had a campaign already planned out. Each step. He couldn’t afford a misstep. It was Breezy. He didn’t know anything about love, not in the accepted sense of the word, but anything he did know—or feel—all belonged to her. He had a serious battle plan. He was going to use everything he knew about her, everything he’d ever been taught and everything she felt for him, to get his woman back. Nothing was going to be too big or too small in his campaign, but he wasn’t losing her a second time.