Topaz: Book 8 of the Steel MC Montana Charter

by Michel Prince

  “Yeah,” Onyx said after swallowing his food. “He was right, I needed to apologize for bumping into you. Only, I already had when I said sorry.”

  “That you didn’t see me.” She glared at him.

  “As compared to what?” he asked downing a pill with his morning OJ, then tucking the orange bottle back into the inner pocket of his leather coat. “Admitting I see you trying to deal with the what…a dark spot in your normally golden day.”

  “What is that supposed to mean?”

  “Don’t act like you’re afraid I’ll touch the spoon before you and contaminate it with some germ only us darkies carry.”

  “I’ll have you know—”

  “Some of your best friends, really? Not that Lil’ Mama and Cream want to dance, but your ‘girls’ are pretty damn pale.”

  “I’ll pass that on to Free,” she snapped.

  He didn’t know her or her damage. The last thing she feared was some germ. They weren’t exactly in a place where mixing was accepted. At least not from the white girl side of the mix. Cass and Bounty could swirl until their hearts were full, but she knew better. Life had shown her exactly what could happen if she followed her heart instead of her head.

  “You’re right,” he chided. “You’re the queen of diversity.”

  “So, I should just find a black woman to put up on the pole to hit a quota?” She knew the rhetoric. Her family spewed it and more to her over the years. There was no end to the vicious words, all with little to no purpose than to hurt and push him away. Far away. Only that wasn’t fair. He’d become part of the fabric of the Steels here and she was the frayed end that kept getting caught and causing damage.

  “Don’t put yourself out,” he replied. “Trust me, I’m used to having my every move and action questioned because I dare to exist in your world. I’m not Hollywood, I was under no delusion that would stop when I came to one of the whitest states in the country.”

  “Your choice,” she bit back. “They have consequences you know.”

  “Speaking of which is the real reason you send drugs to Granny to help with the kid she’s raising for you?”

  “Why would you think that?” She narrowed her eyes at him.

  “Strippers have stereotypes too, and you’re not paying your way through school or coked out.” His eyes glared at her, cold and distant. “Sucks being stuck in a hole because one aspect of your life. Difference is Becky, you chose your box, you weren’t born that way.” He gathered the rest of his food and left.

  Topaz’s belly ached. There were many roles she’d played over the years. Any stripper had. This one, the one who hates a man simply for being, hurt. It hurt because it was a lie. He was like Byron. Sneaking and putting in a good word for Mountain. That was Byron. He didn’t want the credit, but he wanted men to be acknowledged for what they contributed to the team. Even her stupid, asshole cousin’s name got brought up to coaches at smaller schools who’d reached out to Byron in hopes they could snag the four-star recruit.

  All unnoticed. Unappreciated and unknown to the one being touted. She glanced over her shoulder at Mountain. The fork in his hand being pressed hard by his thumb as the tines pointed outward where Onyx and Hack were discussing something.

  Electricity shot through Topaz’s body and she darted across the room to Mountain’s table. Blocking his view of Onyx and making sure his eyes came to hers by leaning palms down on the table. “Enjoy your breakfast? Can I make you another plate?” she asked.

  “Are you okay?” Mountain questioned. “Because at first, we all had bets going around you and Onyx fucking, but now it feels more like you two actually hate each other.”

  “I’m always good, Mountain, thanks for worrying. And don’t take sucker bets anymore.”

  4

  Onyx walked outside and straddled his motorcycle. Angry at himself for fighting with Topaz. The Becky comment might have gone too far, that is if she even understood the slur. She took any bait so easy, but he needed to stop chumming the water. Only he really hadn’t seen her in line. Dumb ass texts from some friends back in LA had him laughing at their GIF responses and not watching where he was going. The bump wasn’t enough to warrant his response. Even if he’d been laughing when he said sorry. But every time they were in the same room, they argued over bullshit. Some girls get off on drama, but he wasn’t even getting the perk of fight to fuck.

  Topaz strode toward the van parked in the parking lot.

  Hack got on his motorcycle and waved his hand.

  They were ready to leave for the rescue. It should take them less than five hours to get to Opheim on the northern border and cross. Another hour or so, to get to the smaller town to get the rescue.

  Onyx settled into the drive by making himself comfortable on his soft tail Harley.

  The fresh air and sunshine made the drive awesome. They were hitting the peak of summer and the temp stayed in the high seventies. Warm enough the breeze as he rode kept him perfectly cool, even in his leather coat and cut. Watching the natural beauty unfolding in front of him on the way up to Canada allowed him to clear his mind. Border crossings were much easier and less packed than what he was used to in California when he’d go on Tijuana runs. Once they crossed the border, he knew they were almost to their destination.

  They rotated positions a few times during the journey and had stopped once before they crossed, but Topaz wouldn’t even look at him as they got fuel and stretched. He grabbed a quick snack, so he could take another dose of his antibiotic and some Tylenol. By the time they got home, he would be taking the good stuff. His hip made him limp and it wasn’t from a numb ass because he’d been riding so long.

  Currently, Topaz was behind him and Hack followed up the rear. He checked his GPS and saw that they only had fifty three miles to go before reaching the small town they were heading to. Hack had created three fake passports for the woman and her two kids as a back-up if the Hard Road connect wouldn’t be at the crossing when they arrived.

  Once they reached the town, Onyx pulled into the local grocery store’s parking lot. The place reminded him of a feed store, more than a grocery store. If it weren’t for the bright sign draped on one side touting fresh veggies, he would expect to see farm implements coming out, not carts with bags of food.

  Topaz parked the van.

  Hack pulled up to him then dismounted and stretched. “Alright, the plan is we go to the house. Topaz will go up to the door and knock sayin’ she’s a distant cousin passing through. Once she gets inside, she’ll see if the husband is home. If he is, there could be a problem, but if he’s gone, we’re home free.”

  “Wait?” Topaz’s eyes widened. “It’s been a bit since I helped out. I thought I was just an easier way to transport and a sign of safety to an abused woman.”

  “Sometimes,” Hack replied. “Sometimes not, you have an issue because I’m pretty sure if either of us knock, we’re not going to look like Suzie Sunshine from the Scandinavian side of the family.”

  “I get that.” Topaz gripped the wheel of the van a bit tight, even though she was holding onto the bottom of it… her unease was obvious.

  Hack didn’t stand out quite as much, his native skin in a remote Canadian town, but Onyx’s black ass… he could get a woman beat because she entertained the thought of him. “Maybe we could just swoop and grab,” Onyx suggested, giving a quick glance to Topaz then back to Hack to indicate she wasn’t ready.

  “No,” Topaz replied, broadening her shoulders and letting out a long breath. “I’m not really Suzie Sunshine am I?”

  “Carol Johnson,” Hack stated. “They’ve already told her that was the code name, so she’ll know who you are.”

  “Sounds like a solid plan,” Onyx commented.

  Topaz smiled. “I can do that. Does she know were coming today?”

  “Yes. This was supposed to be a window for her, but she said her man tended to change plans. Especially, if she got too happy he was leaving.” Hack zipped up his leather jacket after ch
ecking his gun.

  Onyx checked his gun to make sure it was ready to be used if they needed it. Being law enforcement at one time, he took the gun seriously. No matter how many classes and trainings pushed don’t wait, he found it still was the last resort to protect himself. Taser, fist, brute strength, sadly that was hampered now.

  “Let’s roll.” Hack waved his hand over his head as he straddled his bike.

  Topaz nodded and started the van. She had put the address into her GPS so she could go to the house first. Hack and Onyx would pull up around the corner to stay out of the way until Topaz told them they were clear.

  Onyx and Hack took opposite ends of the street, but near enough, so they could see any interaction.

  Topaz approached the door and knocked. Shortly after, she left their sight as she entered the home.

  They waited a few minutes then Topaz texted them the all clear sign.

  The two men started their bikes and parked, flanking the van. Onyx took the rear position.

  Topaz held the door open and the men stepped inside the welcoming ranch style home. Hanging flower pots, cute décor and a welcome mat with flowers told the story of calm and tranquility. Even inside pictures of a happy family hung on the walls, a perfect example of what a nuclear family should be. Any social worker would walk in and give them an A, but it was all an act. When he was an officer these homes made him more nervous than the ones with broken chairs, flipped sofas and fuming men.

  “We’re good. She packed when he left for work. Said her husband still has two hours before he gets off.”

  Both Hack and Onyx stacked and hauled three suitcases apiece, then started toward the van.

  A large pickup rolled into the driveway and a man got out before turning off the engine.

  Topaz was still trapped inside with the woman hopefully she understood the run and load. Snag the bags if you can, but it’s the last thing you need. Especially, when you’re liable to have kids who may or may not be apt to run for daddy because they don’t understand or fear him the way you do.

  Hack continued to move toward the van.

  The man from the truck approached Onyx.

  With the husband’s fist flying, Onyx braced for the punch. The quick drop and evade hampered by the pain in his hip. If this man hit his wife or kids as hard as he just hit him he was surprised the woman could walk. A spiderweb of pain erupted across his skull, the son of a bitch had laced his keys in his fist like they taught women in self-defense classes. At least one if not two, of the ridged surfaces raked his head.

  “You think you’ll be able to get away. You son of a bitch!” the man raged, more for the neighbors than true feelings. The show was as false as the smiling faces in the photographs. “I heard about you sex traffickers. Not on my watch.”

  The Steels had been accused of many things when they rescued the women. Nothing was new to the men. In fact, they expected it more times than not. Onyx finally was able to defend himself now since he truly got a vision of the man in front him. Shorter than him by only a few inches, Onyx struck out and sent the man back enough the keys dropped to the pavement. His hand open, Onyx was able to catch it and twisted his arm behind the guy’s back. The guy must have been used to being manhandled, and shifted, or maybe it was the sting from his head, but Onyx had no choice, the stumble caused the man to fall on the ground.

  With a swift kick of his foot, the man caught Onyx in the ankle of his prosthetic. Onyx lost his footing. The suction holding the bottom of his leg to his top gave a bit as he kicked back and jammed his foot into the ground forcing it back in place and sending a sharp sting up his thigh bone. Adrenaline surged helping him recover quickly as he punched left then right.

  The man’s head flopped on the sidewalk from side to side.

  On bended knee, Onyx slammed the man one more time in the nose knocking him out onto the sidewalk.

  The sound of kids crying made Onyx look up to see them standing near the doorway of the house. Their mother holding them close to her body. The cradling caring of a mother for her children, only her face was stone still. Gentle hands practically disconnected from their mother’s true feeling. He doubted the woman sporting thick makeup wanted her husband dead, but was enjoying the asshat getting a taste of his own medicine for a change.

  Waking her from her disconnected state, Onyx snipped, “Get into the van now.”

  The little boy’s lip trembled as he stared past his father to Onyx’s exposed metal and dark flesh colored plastic leg.

  Onyx quickly pulled the bottom of his jean leg down and covered up the prosthetic. Before wiping across his face with his gloved hand, it shined with what could only be blood he knew he needed to get medical attention. But he needed to get the hell out of here before he dealt with it. Who knew how long the man would stay unconscious and people were moving from windows, peering to stepping out of their homes, some with phones.

  Hack was ushering Topaz and the woman to get into the van and drive.

  Onyx used the pause to check a pulse, he wasn’t going to do a full cognition test, but he could be content in knowing at least the man’s heart and lungs work. In his mind, the man didn’t have a functioning brain before Onyx smashed his face. What did it matter if he did now?

  Onyx got onto his bike, this time he added his helmet hoping the pressure would help the cut on his head and turned over the engine. The smaller town allowed them to speed away, leaving the man lying on the sidewalk without so much as a siren sounded.

  After they drove out of the town, Onyx knew he needed to have his head looked at. Blood continued to drip into his eye and he had to constantly wipe at it. Tapping his phone, he answered Hack.

  “What’s wrong?” Hack’s voice sounded in the helmet. “Why you all safety and save the brain right now?”

  “We need to use the nearest harbor,” he said as Hack slid around a semi and they had to follow. Mapping out safe spots to hide out if necessary was essential in these situations and they’ve started naming safe spaces, harbors mapped out every fifty miles or so, but always one close to the pick-up point since it was the most dangerous. “Soon.”

  “Gotcha,” Hack said. “What are we looking at?”

  “I’m bleeding, enough to be more than annoyed,” Onyx said. “Quick fix and move on.”

  “You want a Hello Kitty or Mario Brothers Band-aid?”

  “They got Luigi,” he joked because he could hear the concern in Hack’s voice and it was obvious the man had glanced in his side mirror more than once.

  “Two miles left exit, we’ll meet you there,” Hack said and the phone disconnected.

  Onyx sped up and passed the van, then Hack. Pulling into a rest area, he dismounted and removed his helmet. Blood slicked the inside cushioned helmet and by removing it, the seal had been broken and blood ran down his face. Digging in his saddle bag, he found a rag and wiped at the unrelenting wound while he waited for Topaz and Hack to catch up with him.

  The van pulled in opposite of him and Topaz ran to him.

  He couldn’t describe the look on her face, fear, worry, pain, was it from all the blood?

  “Wait, I have got gloves in the van and a first aid kit.” She turned to go back to the van.

  “Of course, you need gloves. God forbid you touch me with your bare hands,” Onyx smarted off.

  “What the hell are you talking about?” Topaz walked back to him with the first aid kit and a pair of rubber gloves. “Even Red would put on gloves, asshole.” With a snap, she put on the gloves, then opened the kit and found some gauze. Applying it to the head wound he had.

  She had a point and he was once again, starting a needless fight with her.

  “You’re bleeding badly from this.”

  “Don’t want you fussing over me,” he growled.

  “I’m going to say that’s from the blood loss and not because you’re actually that stupid,” she replied. “You called for a harbor so your brain was functioning a few miles ago.”

  Cutting his e
yes to her all he could make out were her full lips, bare of the gloss and glitter she usually sported when she danced. Her nearness was overwhelming for him. The smell of vanilla wafted up from her hair to his senses. The sweet mixed with the—he wanted to say sour treatment.

  She pulled the gauze back and began to clean his head with alcohol preps.

  Wincing, he tried to not bitch up too much as her fingers washed over the wound.

  Soon she found a fresh piece of gauze and applied it to his head, this time sealing the dressing with tape. “Oh, hush now. I got this. You can’t drive if you can’t see.” Topaz dug through the first aid kit. “We both took Red’s crash course in not dying and headwounds like to bleed and blood is supposed to stay in the body.”

  “Red does not like to fight the reaper.”

  “Annoying isn’t it?” She gave him a half-hearted smile that actually reached her eyes. She then took out a wet wipe, cleaned around the dressing.

  Onyx had to close his eyes. The cool towel clearing blood from the bridge of his nose, cheek and over both his eyes. She used one hand behind his head to steady him, the motion slow and meticulous. When she finally stopped, he opened his eyes to see a relaxed face, almost welcoming.

  “This should hold it until we get to the hotel,” she stated, her voice low as she gathered the multiple wipes and initial gauze she’d used. “You were a mess.”

  “Right, we’re passing off in the morning from there. I’ll be good until then. Does it look like stitches are needed?” Onyx hated the thought of stitching up the wound himself, but he would do it. Another of Red’s lessons, after twelve hours with no stitches, you’d have to get used to the gash because it’s too late to fix the skin.