Steel Crew : Books 1-3 (Steel World Box Set Book 7)

by Mj Fields

  “A museum filled with undersexed teens,” Amias adds.

  “Don’t you mean oversexed?” Patrick asks with a brief laugh.

  Amias shakes his head then tosses back his drink, also club soda, but you’d never guess it. “Not yet, man, not yet.” He nods to a group of girls dressed like runway models, minus the tits. “What time are we blowing this place?”

  “Check back here in thirty,” Patrick tells him.

  “Perfect,” Max says. Then he and Amias walk away.

  When Patrick looks down at his phone again, Brisa and I look at each other and share a knowing glance.

  “Someone sending nudes?” she asks him.

  “Always someone sending nudes.” He winks.

  “But are they from the one keeping your eyes glued to that screen when at least twenty girls in this room would like to drag you into the nearest closet?” I joke.

  He looks around then gives me a dirty look.

  “What?” I laugh.

  “Don’t undershoot me. There’s way more than twenty girls in this room.”

  “You’re deflecting,” Tris tells him.

  He throws his arm around Tris. “I’m enjoying the company of the coolest females in the room.”

  “While deflecting.” She grins.

  “Nah, Tris, you’re right; this is kind of lame. I’d rather be somewhere playing music or tossing cards with you all.”

  “You want cards?” Miles asks, walking up to us with Kai at his side. “There’s a fifty dollar buy-in.”

  “Why is it always about the money to the people who have the most of it?” Tris asks, quite seriously in fact.

  Kai scowls at her.

  “Fix your face before I do,” Patrick sneers at him.

  “Thanks, Tricks, but I could do some damage to it myself if necessary.” Tris shrugs. “Real nails don’t pop off like the fake shit does, pal, and they’re free.”

  “Good luck finding someone who wants to breed with that one.” Miles laughs haughtily … until Patrick grabs his collar.

  “Oh, hell no.” Tris forces a laugh and pushes between them, not seeing Patrick get jacked back by two of the guys hired to keep the peace.

  From out of nowhere, Tobias steps in. “He’s fine.”

  “You serious, Easton?” one of them sneers.

  Tobias doesn’t say a word, just glares at him.

  “You make sure you let Gabrielle know this was your call,” the other says.

  “This is Patrick Steel, Justice’s cousin,” Gabrielle says from behind me. “You want to work tomorrow, don’t you?”

  “Whatever you say,” he huffs then walks away.

  “Listen, you right swaying, small-dicked pussy boy,” Tris spits at Miles.

  “Right your girl,” Tobias whispers from behind me.

  I look over my shoulder at him then point at Miles’s crotch. “I’m pretty sure she’s right.”

  A smile tugs on his lips, and in the blink of his eye, it’s gone. “Then maybe, instead of perfecting trash talk, you should figure out where to hit a man where it actually hurts. Newsflash: it’s not dick jokes.”

  “Now, see? You said man.” I look around then back to him. “Not seeing any that fit that bill here, besides the one who just stuck up for a girl who was wronged.”

  Again, he fights a smile. “So, small dick jokes, it is.”

  I can’t help but look down at him, and then I can’t help but take the slow, scenic route back up to his gorgeous eyes. “If the boot fits …”

  “Your name being Truth, I expected you’d speak it.” He glowers at me.

  I turn fully, facing him, and look up. “I’m not sure I remember. How about a reminder?”

  His eyes widen, nose flares, jaw locks, fists ball, and he steps past me and between Miles and Tris, who is still ripping Miles a new asshole as half the room watches, whispering and laughing, and for the first time, I’m pretty damn sure it’s not at any of us.

  “Let’s go,” Tobias hisses at them.

  And … they do.

  “Well, that was fun.” Brisa laughs as we walk down the brick-paved driveway.

  “If, by fun, you mean a waste of three hours of our lives, then yeah, it was a fucking blast.” Patrick chuckles.

  “God, he’s so gross. Breed me?” Tris snaps, obviously still stewing over the Miles shit. Then she turns, walking backward, and points to all the boys. “You m’fers ever talk to a girl like that, I will cut you.”

  “And what if Marcello ever—”

  “He wouldn’t.” And even under the moonlight, we see her face turn red.

  “For real, Tris!” Amias yells at her.

  She turns around. “He’s good to me.”

  “You just made him sound like a fucking sugar daddy, and I now want to puke and punch him in the face.” Max gags.

  “Hold up,” Patrick whispers as he looks down the hill toward the road.

  “Is that the cops?” I whisper.

  “Yeah, Truth, and not just a couple.”

  “Fuck, we can’t go down there. I’ll get kicked off the team,” Amias hisses quietly.

  “Anyone have message rights on The Sound yet?” I ask, thumbing through my phone, hoping to find that Justice hasn’t erased everyone’s messages without a number.

  “No.”

  “We have to warn them,” I say, starting back toward the house.

  “Not our battle,” Brisa calls softly from behind me.

  “It is now.” I hobble faster.

  “Fuck, T,” Max groans. “Get on my back.”

  Throwing open the door, the first person I see is Tobias, who rolls his eyes at me.

  “Get over it, asshole,” I snap.

  As soon as he gets close enough, I smell alcohol.

  “What the hell did you just call—”

  “Cops are at the end of the driveway,” Patrick interrupts him.

  “And, by cops, he means lots and lots of them,” Tris says nervously.

  “Where’s Gabrielle?”

  Tobias whistles loudly and nods to the guy spinning the tunes. The music dies, and all eyes are on him.

  “Cops are here,” he says, and whispered panic floods the room. “Those of you who know the drill, grab the newbies and go.”

  “Dude, what’s going on?” a very drunk guy asks.

  “Sober the fuck up and follow them.” He points toward the crowd heading toward the back of the house.

  Pot, meet kettle, I think, but decide not to say it. As titillating as it is to get into it with Tobias, there are more pressing matters.

  “Where is Gabby?”

  “Probably hiding in her room,” Tobias snaps.

  “Where—”

  “Stairs to the left, last door, end of hall,” he says then looks over me and yells, “Let’s fucking go!”

  Patrick yells behind me, “T, we got to go!”

  “I’ll catch up. Get them out of here!” I yell to him.

  “Truth!” he yells.

  “Just go!”

  Running, hopping, and hobbling down the longest hallway I’ve ever hurried down, I finally make it to her door and consider knocking, but fuck that.

  “Gabrielle, the cops are here!”

  “Lovely,” she sighs out while walking out of what I assume is the bathroom, toweling her hair.

  “You took a shower in the middle of your own party?”

  “I felt dirty.”

  “Okay, well, get dressed and let’s go.”

  She shrugs. “Go where?”

  “You can come to my house.”

  “Um, no.” She shakes her head back and forth quickly.

  “Then Tobias’s,” I say as I hop my way to her dresser and rummage through it.

  “I’m not dragging him down in this shit. He’s almost out of here.”

  I turn and look at her. “Um, focus! Let’s go!”

  She takes her undies and bra from me. “Go, or you’ll get labeled for being my friend.”

  “And as new and foreig
n as that word describing us feels to say, as your friend, I’m gonna give it to you straight. I’m not fucking leaving you here to deal with cops, or angry parents, or any of that shit, so you either come with me, or I’m staying here to make sure you’re all right.”

  “That’s like year three of friendship,” she says in a blasé manner.

  I grab and shake her. “Well, we do shit differently, so let’s go!”

  Tears fill her eyes as she starts to get dressed quickly. “I need sweatpants and a—”

  “These?” I hold up a pair of sweatpants.

  “I prefer the black Fendi’s”

  “Jesus, even your sweats are boujee,” I say as I toss them to her.

  “Aw, thank you,” she says as she puts them on.

  “That wasn’t a freaking compliment.”

  “I’ll take all the love I can get,” she says, pushing her arms in the black, cropped Fendi hoodie.

  “The fuck, ladies?” comes from the hallway.

  “Tobias, get out of here!” Gabrielle yells.

  “Then let’s go!” he yells back.

  I grab her hand and pull her behind me as I hop, run and, yeah, nearly fall down the hall.

  “You’re fucking painful to watch,” Tobias grumbles as he grabs me and hefts me over his shoulder.

  “Listen, you big oaf, I’m capable of—”

  “Shutting the fuck up?” he snaps. “Good, let’s see it.”

  Squirming to get down, I growl at him, “You better—”

  A heavy hand grabs my ass. “I said see, not hear.”

  I look behind me at Gabrielle, who smiles as she wipes a tear away. “You’re cute together, you know.”

  Tobias’s steps falter.

  “You drop me, you’ll be cute with the fishes, asshat.”

  Halfway down the stairs, the pounding on the door begins.

  “Fuck,” Tobias says as he whips left then right, with me still over his shoulder.

  “Wow, this place cleans up pretty good.”

  Gabrielle sniffs. “They do good work.”

  “Can you two exchange information on the hired help at a different time, for fuck’s sake?” Tobias snaps.

  A loud banging on the door is followed by, “Gabrielle Morales-Ortez, open up or we’re coming in.”

  “Fuck,” she huffs then looks at us. “Go.”

  “Door’s already sealed,” Tobias tells her.

  “Then get in the fucking closet or something, Tobias. You have less than three months until this is no longer your life! Why you chose tonight to step off the wagon is beyond me,” she whisper-snaps at him.

  My phone pings in my pocket, and I pull it out to quickly type back:

  - Cops are here. Going to be hiding in a closet or some shit. I’m fine. See you soon. DON’T message me. I’ll message you all.

  “You done?” Tobias asks.

  “Well, yeah, but you don’t have to be such an asshole. I’m trying to help.”

  “Truth, I don’t deserve this, but could you please handle him?”

  “Handle me?” he asks as I again try to wiggle free, and again, he grips my ass harder.

  “You keep handling my ass like that, and my dad’s gonna make you wife it.” I knee him in the chest hard enough that he loses his grip, and then I shimmy down his big, hard body and ignore every snap, crackle, and pop going on inside mine.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Idiom

  Love Begets Love.

  Truth

  I call bull.

  “How the hell does a house this big have such a small closet?” I ask myself out loud.

  “The others are bigger,” Tobias whispers.

  “Lovely.”

  “That’s not what I—” He stops talking and huffs, “I don’t have to explain myself to you.”

  “Not thinking I asked you to.”

  “Maybe not in words, but your fucking eyes are constantly questioning everything—every move, every intention, every—”

  “I’m going to save you some embarrassment, stop you right there, and remind you that it’s dark in here, pitch dark, as a matter of fact, and neither of us can see a thing.”

  “You know damn well what I’m talking about.”

  I turn my body, knowing full well I’m going to be face to chest with him. And he’s right; it doesn’t matter how dark it is in here. It makes things more … intense.

  I can tell he’s holding his breath, and for some reason, I like that I make him feel as on edge as he makes me.

  “I need something from you.”

  He doesn’t respond, and he still hasn’t let out a breath, so I do something … extremely immature, and I poke him in the belly.

  A burst of hot, sweet-smelling mix of cinnamon and whiskey hits my face, and he lets out a low chuckle then asks, “Did you just doughboy me?”

  I like his laugh as much as I like his smiles that always fade too quickly.

  I poke him again, and he chuckles … again.

  “Do that again and you’ll regret it,” he warns.

  So, I don’t doughboy him; I spread my fingers wide, lay my palm flat on his incredibly ripped abs, and kind of, sort of tickle him.

  “The fuck,” he says, trying not to laugh.

  I don’t move my hand away from him, and every time he starts to say something, I dig my nails into his belly, but just for a second, because I can now hear the cops inside the house.

  “Can’t let her do this shit alone, Tiny T,” he whispers.

  Tiny T?

  He grips my hips gently. “Gotta move so I can—”

  “Oh, no, you don’t,” I grumble as I turn and push my back against him to stop him from moving forward.

  “Shit.” He somehow stumbles and grabs me as he goes down.

  “Oh my God, is that your phone in your pock—” I smash my hand over my own damn mouth when I realize exactly what it is.

  “Been drinking, you got your paws all over me; what do you expect?” he hisses.

  I try to move, but he flattens his hand against my belly now to keep me in place. And that one touch releases a swarm of butterflies whose wings are fluttering beneath the surface of my most private parts.

  “Where’s your nanny this time, Gabrielle?”

  “I’m steps from eighteen; I don’t require a full-time babysitter. She does get time off. And how the hell should I know? She’s an adult and can do whatever she wants.”

  A different cop asks, “And how long will she be gone this time?”

  “Do you really think I’m going to tell you two when I’ll be alone?”

  “Heard from your parents, Gabrielle?” one asks.

  “Fuckers,” Tobias grumbles.

  “Are you about done here, or should I call my guardian or my lawyers this time?” she snaps.

  “You gonna send an anonymous noise complaint later just to get some attention?”

  “Get! Out!” she screams.

  “We’re gonna take a look around a bit more. For your safety, of course,” one says.

  “I’m done,” Tobias says, and I scramble to ensure he stays put.

  Straddling him was not the intention, but it seems to do the trick.

  He expels a breath in a slow, steady hiss as his fingers flex on my hips, as if he’s trying to decide whether to toss me off him or keep me in place.

  “This can’t happen,” he groans.

  “It’s not like we have a choice,” I say, gripping his shoulders—his freaking hard, strong shoulders—to brace myself above him.

  “She needs my help,” he says, squeezing my hips tighter.

  “No, Tobias, she needs you to stay right where you are.”

  Needy, so needy, I scold myself.

  “It’s not a good idea. This can’t happen.”

  “What if it’s the only chance for it to happen?”

  His pause makes me realize what I said and how it, too, could have dual meaning. Honestly, I need them to have dual meanings.

  To save face, I quic
kly add, “What if you open that door, and it causes more problems than she already seems to have?”

  His breath seems to be closer and, in the darkness, so close to him, all other senses heightened, those feelings from just a touch soar.

  “Making that move would make things harder, without a doubt.”

  I find myself pinching a lock of his hair between my fingers and rubbing them together, enjoying the silky softness of it as I ponder his words and wonder if he’s talking about me or Gabrielle. But right now, I desperately want it to be me.

  “And what about you?”

  “What about me?” His words are heavier, breathier, deeper.

  “What do you really want, Tobias?”

  He shifts, and I drop, and then I freaking moan at the feel of his hardness against the thin material of my panties. It immediately makes my stomach flip and my head spin.

  “I want her to be happy. I want her to have a great life. I want her to never look at me and think I did her wrong.”

  I lean my forehead against his chest and can literally feel his heart rate accelerate, and his breaths grow harder.

  I inhale his scent—clean, manly, earth, so fucking sexy.

  “Truth,” he groans, gripping my hips, and only then do I realize I’ve been rocking against him.

  How embarrassing. How fucking embarrassing.

  “Sorry,” I whisper.

  “Yeah, me, too.” He runs his hand up my back, causing it to arch and my hips to rock. His chest rumbles in a silent, not so happy laugh as he moves his hand to the back of my neck and pulls my head against his chest. “Me, too.”

  I swear I feel his lips against the top of my head, but then I think it may be my wayward desires making my life, the one that seemed to only really getting to the good parts, kind of suck.

  Thoughts swarm like angry bees inside my head, and holding them inside stings. It stings like nothing ever has, and nothing else ever will.

  “Tobias, I—”

  “Please don’t make this any harder on yourself than it already is.”

  Guess I was wrong … Ouch.

  I pull my head off his chest and force myself to recoil slowly, very slowly.

  Sitting to the side of him in the dark, embarrassed and angry at myself, his hushed voice still inside my head saying, Tiny T, the first nickname from a boy that wasn’t mean, makes me happy and sad all at the same time.