Steele: Into Your Heart (Carolina Bad Boys #3

by Rie Warren

  Appearing right at my window when I rolled it down, Boomer grinned. “Semantics. Like I said.”

  I sent a quick text to Ashe before pulling out:

  About to pick up Cara from soccer. U at home?

  You don’t have to do that, came her quick reply.

  Said I would. Want to. Just tell me where to drop her off.

  At the station. Thank you Brodie.

  The Big House. Great. Just the thought of the place gave me hives.

  So I was either the biggest pussy-whipped schmuck around, or . . . I didn’t even want to think about the other option. Because I was pretty sure Ashe had already done a number on my heart, and I hadn’t admitted the whole truth to myself yet. I wasn’t about to start now.

  I got to the soccer fields early—hell, every kid deserved someone to watch them play, right? Yep, I was a schmuck. I didn’t know how Cara could run around in this insane midday heat, but there she was, blonde braid swinging, cheeks pink, zigzagging down the field and dribbling the ball like a pro. I couldn’t help but smile. The kid had some serious moves.

  After practice, she walked over and gave me a fist bump. “Yo.”

  “’Z’up?” I replied.

  We made it to my truck amid groups of women tittering with their eyelashes fluttering, generally all-around eye-fucking me.

  Cara wrinkled her nose. “The truck again? When are you going to take me on your motorcycle?”

  She slung her gear into my pickup like it was her second home and settled in the booster seat.

  I climbed in next to her, revving the engine as a warning to the broads milling around behind us to move along before I mowed them down. “When I decide life is no longer worth living and I don’t care if your mom kills me.”

  “Don’t die on my account. Your bike’s pretty cool though.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  “Besides, you know Mom would never kill you.” She flipped the A/C vent so it blew across her face.

  “Mom” has a gun. Hates my guts. And time for a change of subject.

  “How was practice?” I slipped into reverse, maneuvering between the slack-jawed soccer mom contingent in the packed parking lot.

  “AWEsome!” Cara singsonged, full-strength sass back on. “Scored six goals. Probably more than you.”

  She was not wrong. Sure, I could’ve scored plenty of easy pussy, but I was over that. Ashe had tied my nads in knots. I didn’t mention that.

  “That’s great. You’re a shoe-in for the Olympics in year 2030 or so.” I winked at Cara.

  She rolled her eyes and sighed. “Yeah. But you won’t be around to see it. You know Mom mopes around the house now, right? She’d started humming again, when you showed up.” Cara flipped her blonde braid over her shoulder, facing me. “You two need to grow up and get over your crap already because you make each other happy.”

  My foot faltered on the gas before I made my voice stern—even though I grinned inside. “First of all, you are not allowed to say crap. Second, when did you turn twenty instead of eight?”

  “When did you turn eight instead of twenty-nine?”

  “Christ. You know you’re just like your mom?”

  “I’ll take that as a compliment.” She beamed at me.

  “Good. Because it is.” Sort of. “So knock it off already and put that crap on the radio you always listen to.”

  The little miss flicked on the pop rock station I very generously left tuned in.

  Cara sang along with the songs while I tried to block out the boppy noise coming from the speakers. Just before we turned into the police station, she reached over and put her hand on mine.

  “I missed you, Brodie.”

  I squeezed her fingers, my heart walloping in my chest.

  “Mostly because I always beat you at Monopoly,” she continued.

  I shook my head and chuckled. “That’s it. Next time, all the railroads are mine.”

  Getting through security at the Mt. Pleasant Police Department was all kinds of fun. Not. Just another reason not to date a cop. Cara was ushered right in, of course, while I waited in line to go through the body-sized metal detector. Joy.

  I had the decency to blush when I set off the alarm because Cara stood on the other side looking at me with a confused expression as to why I made the damn sirens wail when I’d already emptied my pockets, taken off my belt, and put my wallet with the chain into the plastic bin along with my rings.

  Leaning toward the officer manning the detector, I dropped my voice and discreetly told her about my piercings.

  I fucking hoped she wouldn’t take me to a private room and ask me to whip it out.

  She blushed hotly—just like me—then briskly patted me down before motioning me through.

  Who wanted to bet I’d be the subject of gossip over murky coffee and stale donuts in the break room later?

  Ashe breezed into the lobby a moment after I appeared, scooping Cara into her arms. She looked up at me, soft eyes, not glittered and hard like the last time I’d seen her. “I thought you’d be here a little sooner.”

  I gnawed on my lip for a moment. “Set off the metal detector.” I raised what I hoped was a very explanatory eyebrow.

  “Ohhh.” Ashe was the third one to blush about my piercings.

  “Yeah.”

  Silence, not exactly as uneasy as the break-up silence, fell over us. Ashe looked goddamn good. No longer in her dark blue uniform but a well-fitted light tan suit because of her detective status. Her badge was hooked on her hip, along with a gun, and a swinging pair of cuffs. A woman with a loaded weapon should not be so hot, especially when she’d taken me to the curb on more than one occasion.

  Cara broke the quiet with a stream of constant chatter. I tuned her out, just like the pop music. I was too busy getting my eye-fill of Ashe. Then Cara upped the ante, dragging her mom toward me.

  Definitely time to cut and run.

  Especially with everyone from plain-clothes cops to suited-up officers looking at me like I was the next perp in one of their cases. Hey, I watched CSI—Vegas was the best. A franchise oughtta know when to quit, right?

  I stood in the lobby in jeans, boots, a black T-shirt. My colorful ink ran all up and down my arms. Leather cuffs on my wrists. Hair tied back, and my goatee grown back after Cat’s beach party-cum-wedding reception, thank you very fucking much. I used to like the smell of Ashe on my short whiskers after a night with her.

  So yeah, maybe I did look a little on the deviant side.

  All thoughts fled as Cara towed Ashe ever closer. Goddamn my speeding heart. It knocked around my chest—ba-boom, ba-boom, ba-boom. I stooped to tweak Cara’s braid, and that was as close as I wanted to get to Ashe.

  Backing away, I said, “See ya Thursday when I pick you up again, right, squirt?” Hell, if Ashe would let me spend a few minutes every so often with the kid I’d grown to like, I’d take it.

  Cara hissed something at her mom, but I swung away and started out of the station. I couldn’t stand seeing Ashe and not being allowed to touch her.

  “Brodie, wait a minute,” Ashe called. I looked back at her. “Thank you. That was sweet of you to get Cara for me.”

  I steeled my jaw and nodded stiffly. “That’s me. Sweet as can be.” I started walking away again, but she placed her hand on my arm. Her touch zapped through me, and I inhaled deeply.

  Ka-boom, ka-boom, ka-boom.

  I wished I’d been able to do the drop-and-ditch with Cara, because the sight of Ashe churned me up inside. “Ashe—”

  “You taking him in for processing, Detective?” Some asshole—way more of a schmuck than me—shouted from across the lobby.

  “What?” Ashe whipped around to face the Probie-equivalent of a pantywaist police officer. Her glare was freezing cold.

  I bet the dude with the fresh-out-of-the-academy ’tude just pissed his pants from that look alone.

  “I just meant . . .” Cue the foot shuffling, armpit-sweating dance of I-just-stepped-in-th
e-shit-big-time. “Isn’t he a suspect?”

  Toeing up to the young officer, Ashe somehow towered over him even though he stood several inches taller.

  That shit made me hard. Too bad Ashe and I weren’t together, had broken up, never got a chance to start in the first place.

  Then she said, “This is Brodie Steele. Business owner. Philanthropist. He is not a perp.”

  My eyebrows almost shot clear off my forehead. A yearly charity motorcycle ride did not a philanthropist make me, but okay.

  “He’s also my boyfriend, so you better watch your mouth and watch your step”—she leaned back to peer at his badge, making it clear she had no frigging clue who the wet-behind-the-ears noob was—“Collins.”

  “Yes, ma’am! Sorry, ma’am. Won’t happen again, ma’am.”

  “Since you’re no use to anybody around here, please take my daughter to the break room.”

  Fuck. I hoped they hadn’t started a heated debate about my dick piercings in there already.

  “Don’t leave her for an instant or your badge is gone.” Ashe gave another order.

  Hang on. Rewind. Her boyfriend?

  Ashe had never said those words before. Not out loud. Not to me. And never to anyone else.

  Cara gave me two thumbs up when her mom’s back was turned as Collins escorted her out of the lobby.

  I scratched the back of my neck. “Boyfriend, huh? Because we broke up . . .”

  “Hey, Kingston? You got a minute to look over this statement?” Another fucking young buck asked. In a suit, all fresh-faced and clean-shaved.

  Ashe looked between the Boy Wonder and me before taking a step closer to me. “Actually, can you give me twenty minutes?”

  “Sure thing. Rightio.”

  Rightio? “Who’s that?” I watched the cop disappear into the innards of the station.

  “Davies. My partner.”

  My mouth dropped open before I slammed it shut to grind my teeth together. “Isn’t he a little young to be watching your back?”

  I wanted someone like Detective Old Fart aka Sipowicz from NYPD Blue—strained shirts, polyester suits, cigarette stained fingers, and a potbelly. Not some preppy-looking twenty-year-old in something made by Brooks Brothers or whatever.

  “Davies is older than you. He’s thirty.”

  “Looks like a preschooler.”

  “Brodie?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Shut up and come with me.”

  Ouch.

  Aaaand yet I followed Ashe without question. She led me through a maze of hallways and into a room. An interrogation room. Despite my bad rep, I’d never been arrested before. The set-up was totally taken from a script of SoA. Or vice versa. Heh. Ashe was now The Vice. Nice. Metal table in the center of the room. Shackles bolted to the floor. Hard chairs. No extras, except those cameras in the corners.

  Wary. Caged animal wary, I paced. “The cameras off in here?”

  Ashe rapped her knuckles on the door and waited for someone to appear. When a bland face shoved against the tiny square window, she did some super Secret Service sign language, motioning to the cameras.

  Ten seconds later she turned to me. “Video feed off. Okay?”

  “Fine. What’s this all about?” I turned one of the chairs around and plunked down in it.

  Ashe fiddled with her suit. She took a seat across from me and fidgeted her leg. She focused on her hands, folded in front of her. In other words, my very professional, extremely cool detective-not-girlfriend was nervous.

  My heart softened and slowed for her. “Ashe?” I touched her cheek, running my fingertips to her neck before pulling away.

  She sucked in a huge breath, and her tear-filled eyes met mine. “You hurt me.”

  “I know. I lashed out. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean what I said. But you kept cutting out on me, and it all built up. I pushed you too hard and too fast.”

  “You can’t say sorry to me. I don’t deserve it.” She pressed her folded hands against her lips. “It wasn’t too much or too fast. I got scared.” Her eyes lifted. “You’re not what I expected, Brodie. You’re so much more.”

  “Ah, shit. You’re killin’ me here, Ashe.” The table separated us along with a huge amount of bad blood between us but I wanted to take her into my arms.

  “There’s more.” Tears that didn’t drop spiked her eyelashes. “I’ve been eaten up with guilt about your parents since they died. I knew it was only a matter of time before it all blew up in my face.”

  I grabbed one of her hands, holding it inside both of mine. “Goddammit. I never should have said that shit.”

  “But you’re right. I tried to make peace with it. That’s why I’ve kept a close eye on Cat, why I’m so proud of you for getting on with your life.” She swiped beneath her eyes as my stomach tangled inside. “It’s been killing me not to fall in love with you.”

  “Why? Why can’t you fall in love with me?” I choked out.

  “Brodie, please.” Ashe jerked her hand away and fell back into her seat. “How could you ever love me when you blame me for your folks? I knew, I knew one day this would happen. I protect myself. I always protect myself, but I didn’t do a good enough job with you.”

  “I don’t blame you anymore,” I snarled.

  “You threw me out of your house!”

  I stood, kicking the leg of the table. “Because you told me to get lost from your life.”

  Ashe rose in front of me. “After you forced me to admit to my feelings.”

  I greeted her rage with more of mine. “I’m oh-so-sorry about having feelings for you. I forgot our negotiations. Is that what you want to hear? I could get laid in an instant, Ashe, by any woman I wanted. Guess what? I don’t want anyone but you.”

  She breathed in a ragged breath. “I want you too. Only you.”

  “Then what the hell is the problem here?”

  “Cara.”

  “Fuck’s sake. Cara is not a problem. You’ve told me that a million times, and I’ve shown you I can be there for her. I want to be there for her. I want to be here for you.”

  “I’m not ready.” She paced away from me.

  “Figured that. So I’m supposed to wait? How long? At least think about your daughter if something happens to you!” I shouted.

  “Don’t you raise your voice at me, Brodie Steele. I’m trying to do my best and make a living, and you were not part of my plan. I told you so that first night in Myrtle Beach.”

  “Christ. You are such a ballbuster.” I stalked to the door and rattled the doorknob. Locked, from the outside. Of course. “And I don’t have time for another shouting match with you. If that’s all you’ve got to say to me, I’m outta here.”

  “You don’t get to walk out on this!”

  I spun around. “Shut up already, Ashe.”

  She clamped her mouth closed as I stalked to her.

  “You have used me. Broken up with me more times than I can count. Given me rules to play by—and heads up—I don’t do rules, in case you haven’t noticed.” I grabbed her around the waist, lifting her against me. “Now you listen to me. I’m not going to ask you to quit your job. It’s part of you. Sure, it freaks me out. But I’m a big man. I can take it. And I’ll do anything I can to help with Cara. You know that. I want to fucking be with you.”

  Her sudden kiss on my lips felt too good to be true. I met each of her lunges, grabbing onto her. I broke off to sample the sweet taste of her neck.

  “Oh,” Ashe moaned.

  “Yeah,” I gruffly said.

  “Why are you so sweet sometimes?” Her voice purred, all velvety.

  “And such a jackass other times?”

  “I wasn’t going to say that.” She melted in my arms, slinking against me.

  “Hmm.” I curled around Ashe, bringing my hands up her back and into her hair.

  “I give in. Come home with us tonight. My shift ends in half an hour.”

  I set her free and crossed my arms over my chest. “You know what? I
don’t want the possibility of us to be about you giving in for me, or thinking you’re giving something up. If that’s what this is, forget it. Not interested.”

  Her eyes flashed silver as her gaze locked on mine. “Okay. How about this then? I love you.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Back In The Saddle

  WE WERE IN A tight, brightly lit police station cubicle—not exactly the stuff romance was made off, but holy fuck.

  “What?” I asked, my brain trying to catch up to speed with my heart that ba-bammed against the wall of my chest. “What did you say?”

  Ashe pulled my face down and pressed her lips against mine. “I love you.”

  Leaning back, I narrowed my eyes at her. “Fuck, woman, took you long enough.”

  “Brodie!”

  “What?”

  Ashe dipped her head against my chest. Her fingers curled into my shirt. “Don’t you have something to say to me?”

  “Who are you and what did you do to my woman?”

  “Brodie!” She reared back and I thought her eyes were going to spit flames.

  “Hmm. Come to think of it, I do have a few things to say to you.” I squeezed her ass with both hands, laughing when her eyes flared even brighter. “I really like you in a suit, sexy.” I twirled a lock of blonde hair around my fingertip. “And your hair looks pretty today.”

  “Brodie,” she groaned.

  “Wait. I think there’s somethin’ else.” Running a thumb along the swell of her bottom lip, I closed the space between us. “I love you, Ashe Kingston. I love you as a woman, as a mother, as a badass detective, and as a biker babe. Love every single gorgeous, infuriating, wild part of you.”

  Her arms wound around my neck as her smile grew. Then I was too busy kissing her—the kind of kisses I’d missed. Her tongue leaped into my mouth, and I sucked it slowly, bunching her hair in my hands to force her harder against me.

  Pulling away from her sweet luscious mouth, I teased her neck with my tongue and lips, rasping her delicate skin with my whiskered chin.

  She moaned so lowly the sound settled right in my cock. With a little sigh, she flicked her hands against my chest, pushing me off her.