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

by Mj Fields

  “Before you flip on me, which I get you want to, I’d appreciate it if you’d hear me out.”

  “You got three minutes, punk,” he sneers.

  “Guess that will have to do.”

  “Time’s ticking,” he says as he sits back, his muscles flexing as he tries to hold himself back from tearing me a new asshole.

  “My mother—”

  “Hope Easton.”

  I nod. “She had me—”

  “At fifteen.”

  Again, I nod. Then I lean back, rub my hand up and down my face, and whisper, “Fuck.”

  “Keep your shit together. You got two and a half minutes, kid.”

  “She worked—”

  “A nurse, and for the US Navy.”

  “After years of stripping.” I look at him and see his body stiffen. “She started when she was fifteen, obviously didn’t go by Hope, but I don’t know her stripper name.”

  “Where did she work?”

  “I’m pretty sure you already know the answer to that.”

  “She know my Tara?”

  I shrug. “Never heard mention of her. I was five when she quit because of some shitty babysitter who almost burned our place down with a crackpipe, with me in it.”

  He lets out a deep breath and sits back.

  “Your kids don’t know. No one but Frank does.”

  “Your boss at the jewelry place?”

  I nod then shrug. “Something like that.”

  “Meaning?”

  “He and Mom were tight on and off. When she died, he got custody. When he almost lost this place, I threatened him with some shit if he didn’t help me get emancipated so I could handle the finances and make sure I kept the place we were happiest.”

  “Bad ass move. Go on.”

  “Got me a scholarship to Seashore before I did that, but I got like three minutes and thirty seconds, so I’ll leave that and my criminal record alone and continue.” I’m fucking rambling and feel like I’m going to be sick.

  “May ask you to revisit, but go on.”

  I scrub my hand up my face and tell myself to get it together.

  “A friend knew I was struggling and thought, hey, let’s find your daddy. I did one of those DNA tests, found my closest relative on a website, stalked a little, found pictures of my mom on his social media, found pictures of him in my mom’s shit, and boom, I have a father. Ninety-nine point nine percent. Pictures aren’t the greatest, but who the fuck am I to judge how the man lived? I’m the son of a fifteen-year-old girl who got knocked up while working at a strip club under an assumed name and a fake ID.”

  “Ease up on the stripper bit. You know my wife had the same beginning. No one there to help them get by, and shitbags everywhere leading them in the …” He stops talking, and I realize my knee is bouncing, chest is tight, eyes are fucking filling up, and I want to crawl out of my skin, but I’ve got nowhere to go.

  Nowhere.

  I finally look at him. His eyes are wide, his chest rising and falling. He’s not feeling any more at ease than me.

  I shake my head and look down, unable to watch him look me over, knowing I’m going to get sick if he sees something about me that reminds him of the man he literally saved his wife from, the same man who knocked up a girl who was still a kid, the same man that I share DNA with.

  “He’s dead, if that makes it any easier. Died after I sent him money like I had been for the couple months we’d been messaging. Used it to buy meth.” I look up at him.

  His face is unreadable, and he’s not saying anything, but he’s doing it—looking me over.

  “Look, you and Frank are the only ones who know. Tony—whatever he went by then—never mentioned it. Wasn’t until I saw Truth at the shop that Frank put two and two together. He told me the story Mom had told him about that piece of shit.”

  I look back up at him. “It’s hard enough being the kid who’s been alone since sixteen, so I’d really like to ask a fucking favor.” I laugh at how stupid it sounds knowing his kid is in my bed.

  He doesn’t say anything, so I just throw it out there, hoping maybe he’ll show me some grace. “I only have a couple months here, and I really don’t want people talking shit about me or trying to ruin my chance at becoming someone good, doing something good, even though I was born in this situation.”

  He finally speaks, and it’s the most up-front question, too. “Why were you still sending him money after you knew who he was?”

  “Kept saying he was gonna come here, wanted to meet his boy. I thought if I threw him a bone, he’d stay away. Never gave him enough for bus fare at one time. Played the game to shut a fucking door that should have never been opened. But Gabrielle thought maybe I had someone out there who gave a fuck. Never told her. I prefer she doesn’t know.”

  I look up to see his head is hung low.

  “My birth certificate says father unknown. Once I get to Columbia, I’m not looking back.”

  “Your home is here.”

  “No.” I shake my head. “Not coming back.”

  Fighting fucking tears again, I look toward the ocean. “I care about her. A fucking lot. So, I’m going to ask you another favor. Keep her the fuck away from me. If it takes telling her who I am, then do it. Just keep her away.”

  I stand up, pull my keys from my pocket, and then toss the spare to him. “She’s in my room. Get her out of here.”

  “You and she didn’t …?” He stops himself.

  “Do you think I would take that from her, knowing what I know? Knowing my father beat her mother up and tried to sell her … fucking innocence? I may be from shit, sir, but even I couldn’t look at myself in the mirror if I did that, knowing what I know.”

  I start to walk away, and he calls after me, “Tobias!”

  “Just get her the fuck out of here!”

  “Dad?” I hear Truth and start running. “Oh my God, what did you do to him, Dad! What did you do!”

  “Come on, little bird; let’s get you home.”

  “He didn’t do anything! He didn’t even try! I did, though, and …”

  I outrun her voice, and then I fucking lose my mind.

  Chapter Twenty Four

  Cyrus

  “How are you doing?” Tara asks from over her shoulder as I walk in on her rearranging shit on her dressing table before she turns around and looks at me with eyes that I know will see through my shit if I spew it.

  Normally, I can hide shit, avoid conversations, micromanage situations, have little conversations about shit that might get heavy before it does with the kids, taking every fucking precaution I can to ensure that they don’t get weighed down by anything they don’t need to be weighed down with.

  Sounds like a lot of stress, but it’s a fucking walk in the park compared to days passed, and nothing, not one fucking thing has come up that I couldn’t handle, knowing that I have this woman, who I love, who loves me, and makes me a better man.

  “Come here, Birdie,” I say, sprawling out on our bed and patting my lap.

  She smiles and floats over. Yeah, my birdie doesn’t walk; she either flies or floats.

  Straddling my lap, crawling her fingers up my abs, outlining every fucking piece of art, she then bends down and kisses the kids’ names.

  “On a scale of one to five, how bad is whatever you’re hiding from me?” She looks up, green eyes soft and the tiny little worry lines around her eyes crease a bit more.

  I sigh and roll her over onto her back, spread her legs with my knees, and press my forehead against hers. “That all depends on how we deal with it, yeah?”

  “But not a five, right?”

  I shake my head and rub my nose across hers.

  “Is she still not talking to you?” she asks, eyes following her fingers as she traces Truth’s name.

  I take her hand and kiss her fingers. “Is she talking to you yet?”

  She smiles and nods. “I get an I love you at night, and no, I’m not going to school until Dad says he’s sorr
y in the morning.”

  I kiss her neck and chuckle against her cheek.

  She pushes up on my chest and takes my face in her hands. “I’m a grown woman, Cyrus. I love that you want to protect me from things, but they’re my kids too.”

  I groan and roll onto my back, taking her with me. I move her hand to Justice’s name. “This one is doing some shit he shouldn’t be doing.”

  “What?” She smiles.

  “He’ll tell me eventually and, until then, I’ll follow them around and make sure they’re safe.”

  She strums her fingers on his name. “So, last Saturday night, when you let them get the beach house?”

  I laugh and nod.

  “Then you went out with your brothers to take care of some Steel issue?” she tsks.

  “Birdie, they are Steel issues. More lately than before,” I sigh.

  “Spill it.” She traces his name over and over.

  “Kids at school have boxing matches.”

  Her eyes spring up.

  “Justice decided to try his fists at a few rounds.”

  She traces my face. “So the bruises he was hiding …?”

  I flip her over again. “So, you’re hiding shit from me now?”

  She smiles. “It’s not shit. It’s Steel issues, and I’m a Steel.”

  I lean in and whisper, “My favorite Steel.” Then I nip her neck.

  She rubs her nose against mine. “Did he win?”

  “He got knocked down a few times, got back up, his opponent tapped out. So, technically, yeah.”

  “And do we know his opponent?”

  I move her hand to Truth’s name. “Here’s a hint.”

  “It’s not the Reeves boy.” She laughs.

  “Birdie, you almost knocked him out. JT would have killed him.”

  I don’t tell her Truth kissed the little prick. Honestly, I want to just pretend it didn’t happen.

  I roll her over, and she looks at me while she’s deep in thought.

  “The boy who wouldn’t come in, the one you keep saying pissed himself when he saw you?”

  I laugh. “Birdie, he did.”

  “Gabrielle showed me a picture of him before Truth came up. She told me he was the best kind of guy there is.”

  Fuck, I think as I run my hands up and down her outer thighs.

  “Was that’s who she was with the other night? She wouldn’t tell me.”

  I nod and take her hands.

  “Did you threaten him?”

  I sigh. “Oddly, no.”

  “Then why is she so mad at you still? Surely she didn’t think she wouldn’t be grounded for a bit.”

  I drag my ass up on the bed and rest my back against the headboard. “Gotta tell you something that involves a lot of shit, but it’s our girl and that boy I want to hate more than I want to have this conversation that are getting the shit end of the deal.”

  “Wait—you actually like him?” She smiles.

  “He did right by our girl, our boy, and us. Kids don’t do that these days unless they have good hearts.”

  She smiles big, bright, and beautifully. “You like him.”

  “Birdie, it’s complicated.”

  “Says the man who chose me to save.”

  “Fuck, baby.” I pull her in and hold her tight. “I love you.”

  “I know,” she says and sits back, looks down at Truth’s name, and outlines it. “Tell me.”

  So, I do. I tell her everything he told me, and she cries, but she doesn’t fall apart, and she doesn’t fade away. She never does, but fuck if I’m not terrified that someday she will. And I know that’s not because she’s weak. She’s one of the strongest people I know. It’s because I will do everything in my power to keep her that way. And this … this is big.

  When she’s done crying, she looks at me as I wipe her tears. “Do you think he loves her?”

  “They’re kids, Tara,” I sigh.

  “I was eighteen, remember?”

  “Do I fucking remember?” I give her a look like are you fucking nuts. “Birdie, you owned me from that moment until forever.”

  “We have to do the right thing, even if it’s the hardest thing to do, like tell your kids you were a stripper.” She closes her eyes.

  “A virgin stripper,” I remind her. “We do have another problem, though.”

  “Bigger than that?” She looks shocked now. Fuck.

  “He’s not okay with who his father is. He thinks if he …” I pause and shake my head. “This is not shit I wanna talk about. It’s shit they should do behind my back and do it safely.”

  “Sex then.” She nods.

  I shake my head, and she grabs my cheeks and makes me nod.

  “As Truth’s mother and a woman, I hope someday she has as good a man as her daddy in every way.”

  “Is that so?” I ask.

  “Of course it is.”

  “Not sure he’s the one.”

  “Regardless of DNA, the man he showed you he was, he has my vote.”

  “You one hundred and ten percent positive on this?”

  “I’m not taking away her chance with someone who may love her like you love me.”

  I nod. “Well, this went better than expected.”

  She pulls the string on my sweats and slides them down my legs.

  “Well, fuck, Birdie, way better than expected.”

  “The more Steel I get, the more Steel I become.”

  I look down at her. “You love my cock, Birdie?”

  She nods her head up and down then takes me into the back of her throat.

  “So fucking hot. So fucking mine,” I groan as she begins to bob her head up and down.

  “Go hard and go fast,” I growl as she has all but an inch of me in her mouth. “You got about sixty seconds before I drag your hot little cunt up my body and sit you on my face.”

  I count it down aloud when she gets to ten. “Nine seconds, and I’m shoving my tongue so far up inside you I may pop an ovary. Eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two …” She doesn’t get one. I pull her up as I shimmy my body down.

  As soon as my tongue slips just inside her slit, her knees crush the sides of my head, and I lick a little harder than I had planned, but fuck if she doesn’t taste like honey. I lick down then slowly up again, sucking her clit until her thighs start to shake. She’s going to come quick. It’s been a couple of hellish days, and she needs a release, and I need to be the one she releases on.

  She moans and grabs my hair as I shove my tongue deeper, lapping at her wet lips, then plunging deep inside again as she tightens around my tongue.

  “Oh, good, real good … I think … oh … I think …” She cries out as her knees crush my ears and she rides my face as she comes.

  Dragging her down my chest, I take my time so I can feel her slick, hot cunt all over me. She’s about on my cock when bells start chirping from my phone.

  We both freeze, and then she rolls off me and grabs her robe as I grab my phone to check the security system.

  “It’s the back door,” I say, hopping out of bed and fixing my fucking sweats as I take off down the stairs, knowing damn well what I’m gonna find.

  I skid across the floor and come to a stop at the end of an empty bed, Birdie hot on my heels.

  “I’m gonna ground her until she’s thirty!” I snarl.

  Tara holds up a note. “Well, at least she left a note this time.”

  “Fucking kids.”

  Justice comes into her room. “You want me to go get her?”

  “No, Tyson, we got this,” I snap at him.

  “What?” he asks.

  “Don’t play dumb.”

  “I have no idea what you are talking about. I was asleep.”

  “It can wait until morning,” Tara says as she pecks him on the cheek. “We love you.” She grabs my hand and tugs me. “Come on.”

  Chapter Twenty Five

  Tobias

  Three days of barely just getting by. Three days since I’ve
seen her. Three days that I’ve felt like, if I did, she’d look at me with contempt. Three days of not giving a fuck if she did. I just needed to know she was okay.

  I have missed enough school, due to the fact I beat myself up emotionally over him dying because I knew what that money was being used for, yet I kept doling it out like a dealer to a junkie, knowing he’d stay away if I did, that I didn’t have the luxury of missing school now.

  I didn’t hit the gym, and I avoided her crew at school the best I could. I expected Justice and Patrick to try to fuck me up when they came into the locker room after my PE class, but they didn’t. They just both thanked me for taking care of her that night at the lake.

  I wanted to ask them if they knew, but it was obvious they didn’t. Then Patrick laughed and told me, “She told Aunt Tara she wasn’t going to school until Cyrus tells her he’s sorry.”

  That night, I got a call from an unknown number and, for some reason, I answered it.

  “You doin’ okay?” was all he asked.

  I knew it was Cyrus as soon as I heard his voice, but I thought I might have been wishfully thinking, because why the hell would he call me? Why would he care if I was okay? He should never want to hear my name or see my face again.

  “Yeah.”

  He then asked, “Need anything?”

  “No.”

  “You sure?”

  I wanted to ask him what his angle was and tell him I wasn’t going to try to corrupt his daughter like the other half of my gene pool tried to do to his wife. That was the pissed-off, woe-is-me part of me. The part that lies inside the walls of my chest. A part of me believes he wanted to know if I was okay.

  “Less than three months, Mr. Steel, and I’ll be out of this place, so yeah.”

  “Tobias, it’s Cyrus.”

  I didn’t say anything. I’d seen enough crap in my life, enough people who pretended to give a fuck, opened up enough to feel like it mattered, just to drive a knee to your nuts.

  “Goodnight, Mr. Steel.”

  Day two, Gabrielle asked me where Truth was and told me she had tried to message her. Then she told me she didn’t think Truth had even read it. What I wanted to say was so fucking what, but the reality is that Gabrielle had issues and I always tried to help her out. So, I acted like I didn’t give a fuck, which had been easy for all these past months, until she ended up at my house and I nearly lost my shit.