Steele: Into Your Heart (Carolina Bad Boys #3

by Rie Warren

  “I beg to differ about that.” Her voice lowered to a husky tone.

  At this rate I’d never lose my erection.

  I dragged on my clothes and boots. She took off her top and replaced it with mine. The flannel looked a million times better on her, especially when she tied the tails a little above the curve of her waist, and unbuttoned it a bit farther down her chest.

  “S’pose you want breakfast now,” I said.

  Grabbing my towel from the door, she twisted it. With a menacing expression, she stalked to me. I didn’t even bother getting away. She whipped out the towel, snapping me on the ass. I caught the end and towed her to me.

  “Was that a no to breakfast?” I asked.

  “Actually, I need to at least change my pants.” She peered up at me.

  “Your hotel?” I all but invited myself along.

  “Come on.”

  I grabbed my room key, chained my wallet to my belt loop, stuffed my phone in my pocket, and made sure to stay a step behind Ashe as we left.

  “You’re walking a little stiffly,” I mentioned as we approached the elevators.

  She spun around and kept walking. “You’re one to talk.”

  She was right. I hadn’t stopped boning for her yet.

  I stayed on her tail all the way to her hotel, which I noted was also not a Motel 6.

  “Just a quick pit stop,” she assured me as she let me into her room.

  “Right. You forget I have a sister.” I prepared to pace her room while I waited a good solid hour. Maybe I’d break out the Candy Crush.

  Ten minutes later, Ashe reappeared. I’d timed that shit. She was faster at getting ready than any woman I’d ever known. Didn’t cover her face in ten tons of shit, either. ’Course, she didn’t need makeup. She was beautiful just the way she was.

  “Holy crap. You’re done?” Color me fucking flabbergasted.

  “Told you.”

  “What’d you actually do in there?”

  She blushed as she stood in front of me, fidgeting with the bottom of her shirt.

  “Oh. You shaved your legs for me, didn’t you?”

  “Broderick Steele! That is not a polite thing to say!”

  “Right. Because ordering me to come in your mouth is polite conversation.” Her gray eyes lit with anger. I grabbed her hand, brought it to my mouth, and brushed my lips and soft goatee over her fingertips. “Besides, your legs? Sexy, smooth, goddamn incredible, and I can’t wait to have them wrapped around me again.”

  She rolled her eyes but looked appeased. Good thing I’d grown up with Cat. Sometimes I knew how to smooth things over with a chick.

  “Breakfast now?” I kissed the fingers of her other hand. “Because you fucked an appetite into me, and I’m starving.”

  “Gotta keep your strength up?” she asked with a teasing lilt.

  I opened the door for her, letting her scoot past. “Bet you want donuts, don’t you?”

  “Ass,” she shot back at me as we left her room.

  “Yup. You were the one whistling at it earlier.”

  We didn’t do donuts but a big breakfast with eggs, bacon, juice, toast, the works. Ashe ate like she fucked—full of gusto. My phone rang as I placed bills on the table for the check and tip.

  It was Tuck—apparently my social secretary and stand-in father figure—with a reminder.

  I ended the call, scooped up Ashe’s hand. I helped her out of the booth, tunneling my fingers through her loose hair.

  “I gotta meet my guys for the charity run. Wanna ride with me?”

  “Want me to?”

  “Oh yeah.”

  ****

  We met up with my dudes at the starting line for the Bike Week poker run. Police and firemen had cleared the main drag for the duration of the event, which had been organized to raise funds for the Pediatric Oncology Unit at MUSC Children’s Hospital in Charleston. The roadside was packed with spectators, supporters, families, friends, and hell of a lot of bikers.

  Tuck took one look at Ashe’s badass Triumph and deemed her worthy of joining us. He held out his big meaty hand to clasp hers. “Been keepin’ him in line, Officer Kingston?”

  “Call me Ashe. And yes, I’ve been keeping a very close eye on Broderick.” She suppressed a grin, but the others sure as fuck didn’t bother.

  I raised my eyebrows at her and scratched a hand along my jaw.

  While the others yucked it up at my expense, I bent toward her ear. “Payback’s a bitch, ya know?”

  “As long as it happens in bed, I’m down with it.”

  Yep. Say hello to my brand new boner.

  “I’m Handsome.” The tall dude angled toward her as he sat with his lanky legs straddling his Chopper. “Hey, I think you arrested me once.”

  “Twice.” Ashe winked as she shook his hand. I didn’t know how the hell she could tell. Per usual, Handsome’s features were seventy-five percent covered by thick hanks of dark brown hair.

  “She’s a real live wire,” Tuck murmured to me.

  “You don’t know the half of it,” I said before turning to Tail. He came forward with his regulation wanna-piece-of-this swagger. “This is Tail.” I introduced him to Ashe.

  She took in the cocky smile, the dark green eyes, the long black hair held off his face by two thin braids. “As in pin the tail on the—”

  “Jackass.” Tuck chuckled.

  “Hardly.” Tail made sure his bicep flexed into a hard hill of muscle as he brought Ashe’s hand to his lips.

  Jackass is right.

  “Because I score as much tail as Brodie here.” Tail swooped in for the kill.

  “Shut the fuck up,” I snarled.

  Ashe pulled her hand back. “Relax, Brodie. I certainly never pegged you for a monk.”

  She wasn’t the least bit jealous. That bugged me. Not that I dug bunny boiler broads but . . . “Doesn’t exactly mean I’m a manslut either,” I complained.

  Handsome fake-coughed, “Liar.”

  “Knock it off, assholes.” I dragged Ashe to my side with my arm around her waist.

  “I’d like to knock one up with her.” Tail wouldn’t let it go. We’d never busted up because of a woman before, but there was a first time for everything.

  Gripped by a sudden spurt of jealousy, I grabbed his vest and pulled him to my face. “I said shut the fuck up before I fuck you up.”

  “All right already.” Tail held up his hands and backed off when I turned him loose.

  I didn’t dare look at Ashe. What the hell was wrong with me? I’d never been jealous over a broad before.

  Thankfully, Probie showed at that exact moment to cut through the WTFucking-Fuck atmosphere.

  Squinting at him, I pondered for a moment and then shook my head. “Nah. Sorry. Still don’t remember your name.”

  “Yeah, I think he’s called Probie, right?” Tail let me know we were all good by joining in on my joke—except I really didn’t know the kid’s name.

  Probie straightened his leather vest. “You guys are such dicks. It’s Coletrane.” He gave his attention to Ashe. “You can call me Cole. Nice to meet you, ma’am.”

  “Oooh. Manners.” Handsome razzed.

  “Oh, look,” I said, pointing at Probie’s face. “He grew some stubble. Wanna borrow Ashe’s Lady Schick later?”

  Both Ashe and Probie glared at me. Probie didn’t scare me. Ashe? Maybe.

  Handsome jerked the boy away by his collar, and I called out after him, “You’re still cleaning the crappers when we get back.”

  Ashe fell into conversation with Handsome and Tail, probably ignoring me. I was cool with that since I’d made my claim clear, and I’d get to her later, super smooth legs and all.

  “Knocked boots?” Tuck muttered to me so no one else could hear.

  “More like knocked the bed through the wall.”

  “Sooo?”

  “So nothing. We made a pact.”

  “I love you, kid. But it don’t take a genius to see this is gonna bite you in
the ass.” He rumpled my hair like I was five instead of twenty-nine.

  No shit this is gonna bite me in the ass.

  I watched Ashe easily talking shit with my crew. I liked her. The fact was it wasn’t just the sex, although the sex was insta-wood material. She was funny, sexy, sassy. She had a mouth on her. I liked it even more when she had it on me.

  Thank Christ the ride was about to begin, cutting in on my musings that were bound to tie me in knots. Thinking, not a recommended daily activity.

  I saddled up at the head of my dudes with Ashe right beside me revving her engine. The gun went off, and we roared along the oceanfront with a couple hundred thousand other bikers. A beautiful May day. The hot sun. The blue sky. Not a care in the world besides doing something good, giving something back. The sound of all those powerful motorcycles echoed the surf, mirroring the freewheeling feeling inside me. Everyone was on their best behavior, cleaned up, totally sober.

  At least for a few hours.

  Due to the sheer overwhelming numbers of riders, the checkpoints to get our cards punched for the poker run were staggered and spread out. After a two-hour ride filled with festivities and laughter, the charity run ended right on Surfside Beach. Not a damn one of us had a decent poker hand, but none of us cared when the winners were announced and we weren’t among the names called. I looked around with a grin at the gleaming metal and pipes lined up and down the road as far as the eye could see—the motorcycles formed their own majestic ocean that glittered as brightly as the Atlantic beneath the rays of the sun.

  The money raising part done, now it was carnival time. Not one with broads and burlesque and beer kegs, but a kid’s carnival for the awe-inspiring children we’d come out to support.

  Man, Bike Week had outdone itself. The sandy stretch of beach and boardwalk teemed with rides more likely seen in the Kid’s Zone at the Coastal Carolina Fair. Ferris Wheels, mini roller coasters, funhouses, clowns, stilt walkers, and everyone’s favorite—fried fair food.

  Ashe and I moseyed around. We talked to folks, strolled around the rides, did the whole cotton candy and kettle corn thing. We walked hand in hand, shared a soda, laughed together on the freakin’ Ferris Wheel.

  My phone chimed, and I checked the time. “Hey, babe. I’m up.”

  “For what?” The wind whipped Ashe’s hair across her face. I tucked the soft strands back, leaning to kiss her with a brush of my lips.

  “Free rides on the Harley for an hour. What else?”

  “Mind if I tag along?”

  As we hopped off the Ferris Wheel I held out my arm for her.

  The sponsors had set up a small circuit, and whaddya know? A bunch of big burly biker dudes and hardcore Harley women lined up with their bikes to take kids on a once in a lifetime ride. Obviously I didn’t wear my Fuck Off rings or Fuck Off helmet today.

  It wasn’t until my last kid of the afternoon that my heart pretty much dropped down to the pavement. A little bald boy with bright pink cheeks stood beaming between his parents, trying to tug free of their hands. He was probably five or six.

  I leaned right down. “What’s your name, little dude?”

  Damn, he had the brightest blue eyes I’d ever seen.

  “Wyatt.”

  “He has leukemia.” His mom’s voice faltered.

  “Mooooom. I bet he can tell. I’m not rocking the bald thing for fun.”

  Fuck me. I knew Wyatt was sick, he wouldn’t be here otherwise, but I couldn’t imagine what he lived through, what he survived on a daily base. Not that I let any pity show. Hell, no. I knew firsthand from Cat sympathy was not wanted. Talk about brave.

  “So, wanna go for a ride?”

  “Yeah!”

  I got him settled with a helmet, then sat him in front of me on the Harley. We didn’t go very fast around the circuit or do anything dangerous, but for a kid who’d never experienced the thrum of a bike or the thrill of an engine, it had to be pretty awesome. Wyatt shimmied against me, vibrating with energy. His squeals of laughter made me laugh. I couldn’t stop grinning.

  After we finished our laps, I helped Wyatt off with his helmet and hunkered down in front of him.

  “Damn, dude. You’re a good partner to have on the front of a bike.”

  Oh man, his smile just about cut me apart. It made his whole face shine.

  “That bike’s sure cooler than what normal folks drive.” Motioning me closer, he dropped his voice. “We got a minivan.” His nose wrinkled.

  “That’s because they’re safe. When you get older, you can have a bike like mine. But you gotta be safe about that too, right?”

  “’S’pose so.” He kicked one of his little Keds against the pavement.

  “Hey, I got somethin’ for ya.” I pulled out a Stars and Stripes handkerchief from my back pocket, and looked to his mom. I figured the patriotic bandana would meet his folks’ approval more than the skulls on my Retribution rag. “This okay?”

  She pressed both hands to her mouth and nodded.

  Yup. I did some massive throat clearing as well.

  Handing Wyatt the bandana, I showed him my forearm with tats snaking down to the backs of my hands. I wore the same bandana twisted around my wrist. “See, you can wear it like this, or—”

  “I can tie it on my head so people don’t look at me funny. I can be cool like you!”

  I was anything but cool as tears threatened to leak from my eyes. “Tell you a secret?”

  He nodded like crazy.

  “I’m actually pretty normal. I got a real job, a brother and sister I love, friends I hang with. Sometimes I even wear a suit.”

  “Nuh uh.” His blue eyes rounded.

  “You’ve got a big job too. Ready for it?”

  “Uh huh.”

  “Your job is to let your mom and dad look after you . . . and get better, okay?”

  “I can do that.”

  “Oh, and when you’re a little bit older, come look me up. I’m at Chrome and Steele Auto Supplies in Mt. Pleasant.”

  “We live in Mt. Pleasant!”

  “I guess that makes us neighbors. I’ll have to check in on you, huh?” I took a chance, grabbing him to me for a hug.

  He struggled free way too soon and held out his tiny fist for mine.

  Balls and bravado. How much more was there to love about this kid? Man, my heart just about broke.

  I knocked my knuckles to his. “Keep fighting, Wyatt.”

  I had a quiet conversation with Wyatt’s folks before I turned to find Ashe. She wiped at her eyes as I ambled up.

  “What?”

  “Good with kids too,” she grumbled. Then she wrapped her arms around me. “You okay?”

  Working hard to find my voice, I held her harder as I nodded.

  ****

  During the next four days, I hung out with my crew off and on. More often than not Ashe was with me. We screamed down the strip, tearing it up. We knocked shots back at Suck, Bang, Blow Roadhouse, and made fire alarms go off when we danced together. We had a lot of burning-up-the-sheets sex. She didn’t get clingy, and I found myself craving her company instead of giving her the old heave-ho.

  Ashe never moved her stuff to my hotel room. She always maintained a certain level of independence, which I admired. At the same time, I hated it. No shit she could take care of herself, she had the badge, the handcuffs, and—holy Christ—the gunshot wounds to prove it.

  But I wouldn’t have minded one bit if she’d decided to make my room her home base.

  I kinda minded that she didn’t.

  The last afternoon before Bike Week ended, we met Tail, Tuck, Handsome, and no-name Probie at the mega-minigolf course.

  Of course the guys made a big show of stroking their tiny tin clubs as we meandered from one hole to the next. They were shit shots though, not like my girl who racked up the holes-in-one just like she did at the pool table.

  After the last round of putt-putt where Ashe wiped the Astro Turf with us, Tail smirked. “Not our fault she has more
experience with balls than us.”

  “I don’t know about that. There’s only one set of balls I’ve handled this week.” Ashe sashayed in front of us to the mini-shack with her scorecard in hand.

  “Fuuuck. Brodie, you hit the goldmine with her.” Tail twirled his golf club between his fingers.

  “A real gem.” Tuck pinched one end of his handlebar mustache between two fingers.

  “You know I can hear every word you’re saying, right?” Ashe turned with a smile. She held out her hand to collect her winnings, because we bet on everything from mini-golf to pool to poker and whether or not Probie had managed to grow any pubes yet.

  Every single guy grumbled as they placed bills on her open palm.

  “So it looks like I owe you a round now?” she asked, pocketing the cash.

  I was too busy watching Ashe to pay attention to anything else until Tuck elbowed me in the ribs with a, “Got company, Veep.”

  Before I even turned my head, I heard the raspy two-packs-a-day drawl Leta laid on as thickly as her makeup. “Brodie, darlin’. Don’t you wanna hang your helmet with someone more worthy of your rep?”

  I looked behind me and there she stood. Double the face-cake. Dressed in a tight skirt and low-cut lace shirt. Leta, everybody’s easy lay and the president of the First Ladies of Redemption, pursed her lips at me in a simulation blowjob pucker. She must’ve ridden shotgun to the golf course because no helmet could ever contain hair styled so lethally high.

  I’d never noticed before, but she had a mean mouth and pitiless eyes.

  Ashe slinked forward, her stance relaxed, her smile easy. “Brodie has plans with me tonight, darlin’.”

  “That so, Officer Ass? Maybe the crew wanna think twice about hanging out with a pig.” Tawdry and tarted up, Leta loomed over Ashe. Slim, fit, and very fucking fine, Ashe didn’t give an inch or twitch a damn eyebrow.

  Looked like it was time for a catfight, because Leta had her claws out and aimed at my woman.

  Ashe calmly retied my cut-off flannel shirt around her midriff. She didn’t even look at Leta. “I usually don’t participate in public brawls unless I’m arresting someone. But I can make that happen for you if you’d like.”

  Leta’s cheeks turned even pinker beneath her garish blush. Seeing her next to au naturel Ashe, I couldn’t believe I’d ever hit that.