Travis swallowed hard. He didn’t want to know what Tyler had to say to him. He already kind of knew what it was going to be, and he didn’t relish being talked down to by anyone, but coming from Tyler, it held even more weight. “Go ahead,” he whispered.
“You need to get your shit together. A few months ago, I saw something in you—I saw you starting to step up and be what we need you to be at this clubhouse. You were becoming someone that Liam and I could count on, but especially for the last six weeks or so, you’ve been disappearing and you’ve been sneaky. Other people may not have noticed it, but I tend to watch what everybody around here does. I don’t want to think you’re doin’ shit that you shouldn’t be doin’, but I’m getting a bad-ass feeling about it.”
The breath that Travis was trying to inhale caught in his throat. Nobody liked to hear Tyler say he was getting a bad feeling about anything. At that moment, he wanted to stop his VP and tell him everything that was going on, but something kept him from it. He couldn’t see betraying Christine. Not yet. She’d asked for his silence, and he couldn’t wipe away the progress that he had been able to gain with her. He’d worked too hard for it. It just didn’t sit right with him, either, to tell someone else before he told Jagger. He at least owed that to Jagger.
“I do not want to think you’re fucking us over,” Tyler started again. “We trust you with a lot of things in this club, and you are the person who keeps us safe. Being shady doesn’t fuckin’ fly with me.”
For the first time—ever—Travis was scared of Tyler. Sure, he was a bad-ass motherfucker that struck fear in the hearts of anyone that he went toe to toe with, but that was hardly ever his brothers in the club. He saw now what their enemies saw when they stared down Tyler Blackfoot. “I’m not doing that, not at all.”
“Then give me something.” The tone of Tyler’s voice was pleading.
Travis turned around so that he didn’t have to look at his VP. He couldn’t stand the look in Tyler’s eyes. That was the look he gave when he was about to fuck shit up, and Travis did not want to be on the business end of Tyler’s fist. “There is a woman,” he admitted.
The breath that Tyler exhaled was huge. That made him feel better, to know there was a reason for the sneaking around. A woman for Steele made everything that was odd fit together like a puzzle. “So what’s the deal? Bring her around so we can meet her, and you can quit fuckin’ sneaking around.”
“It’s not that simple. She’s got…problems, and I’m doing my best to help her through those.”
If there was something that most of this club knew about, it was problems. They excelled at that, and they seemed to take in every individual who had issues. Tyler wracked his brain to figure out why this woman was so different. “Are you not going to bring her around?” he asked, taking another hit from his cigarette.
“I can’t, not yet.”
“Is she related to one of us?” He threw out the off-handed remark. That was the only reason he could think why Travis would be keeping her such a secret.
“Please trust me. Know that I would never do anything to put the club at risk, know that I would never do anything to truly betray anyone’s trust. Just know that I’m having a hard time working things out in my own head right now. I don’t need everyone else’s opinions on it. I have to decide for myself how far I’m willing to go with this. I just…” He stopped and took a deep breath. “I’m not sure what I’m going to do about any of this. I want this girl to be it. I want her to trust me, and I’m working on that, but I can’t get her to trust me if I run to the club and tell them everything about her.”
Tyler stuck another cigarette in between his lips and put his lighter up to it before cupping his hand around the flame and letting it ignite to the tobacco. He took a very long drag off of it and looked at Travis, took a good look at him, before shaking his head. “You do what you need to do, but you’ve got two weeks. In two weeks, you need to figure out just what the fuck you’re doing with this girl. We can’t have you running off all the time, being incommunicado because you’re worried about what she’s going to think. You’re our first line of defense here, and if your mind is somewhere else, then we aren’t safe. You got that?”
The words were thrown down like a gauntlet, and Tyler dared him not to agree. “Got it.”
The two of them looked at each other, and it appeared that Tyler wanted to say more, but he held back. “Liam’s lookin’ for you. He got a message from Rooster earlier, and he needs your help.”
They were back to where they had started, only this time, it wasn’t so tense. “Is he in there or at his house?”
“He’s on up at the house.”
Steele nodded and turned on his heel, going back towards his bike, completely fuming. He hated that Tyler had called him out. He’d told him to stop sneaking around and to be there for the club. That pissed him off; he was always there for the club. He worked his ass off. He sat at that computer, monitoring things for hour upon hour—if anyone needed anything technical done, they came to him. He was expected to fix every cell phone issue, every computer issue, every home alarm issue there was. Then at the shop, he was expected to do all the technical stuff there. If someone needed NOS or they needed to figure out which computer chip was fucked up in a car that fell on him too. God forbid he want something for himself, that he want a little peace and quiet with someone besides the people in the clubhouse for a little while. His life was the club, but it wasn’t the only part of it. By the time he drove down the driveway to Liam’s, he had calmed down somewhat, but he was still furious.
Stomping up to the front door, he knocked roughly on it, waiting for his president to open it. When he did, Steele felt bad. He held a crying Tatum close to his chest, a burp cloth over his shoulder.
“Sorry, she just spit up on me, and Denise took the twins to the Fall Festival tonight. I’ll be right with ya.”
In the grand scheme of things, Liam had a hell of a lot more going on than the rest of them, yet he showed up every day. Some days his eyes had huge circles under them, and they could all see the lines of fatigue that wore on his face, but he never complained.
Not like Steele’s own dad had done. When the going got tough with a child, he got gone and never returned.
That thought came out of nowhere, and Travis shook his head. It had been years since he had even thought of his own father. He wasn’t sure what had brought that up, but he hoped that it went back to whatever hellhole it came from. He wasn’t for sure how long he sat in the living room, waiting on Liam to make a reappearance, but it startled him when the other man came back in, this time without a baby.
“Finally got her to sleep,” he laughed, running a hand through his hair. “Sometimes she gets pissy when Drew’s not here to sing to her.”
“He sings?” Steele asked, his eyebrow quirking up. He’d never heard the teenager sing before.
“Not well,” Liam laughed again. “But Tatum loves it. She’s infatuated with her older brother. If nobody else can get her to calm down, he usually can. It’s a good thing he’s old enough and man enough that it doesn’t bother him.”
There was a soft lull in the conversation, and Travis took a moment to admit how far Liam had come. If someone had told him two years ago that this would be his pres’ life, he would have bet money that they were wrong. “Tyler said you wanted to see me?”
“Yeah,” Liam stood, taking a baby monitor with him. “Let’s take this out to the porch in case Denise and the kids come home while we’re talking about it. This isn’t something I want everyone to know just yet.”
Now he was intrigued. Liam was usually very forthcoming in all that he did. He wasn’t one to keep secrets, even if it was probably in the best interest of the club to do so. He wasn’t a president in the way his father had been president. He felt that if everyone knew exactly what they were facing, then that made them a stronger unit, and Travis thought so too. The fact that Liam was going against what he had previously said to be true
worried him.
They each had a seat, Liam sitting across from Travis. “I got some information from Rooster today, and he’s coded it. I can’t figure it out, but I knew you would.”
Rooster. That name was one that Travis hated to hear; it wasn’t for the reason that everyone thought either. It wasn’t the fact that he was a sheriff’s deputy and he could easily put them all in jail if he wanted. Only Liam knew how close Travis and Rooster were, and Liam had kept that secret. He hadn’t ever used it to advance his position in anything or force someone to do something that they didn’t want to do, but apparently today, he needed to call it in.
“It’s been a long time since Rooster and I were close.” Travis squirmed. This whole last hour of his life had been complete and utter FUBAR.
“I have a feelin’ you’re gonna know what this means. He left me a message on the club voicemail about there being a package at the PO Box. When I went to get it, this is what it was.”
Liam pulled a packet of papers out from under the couch cushion and opened them up, extracting a piece of paper. The piece of paper was a photograph of a place that Steele recognized. There was a spot on it circled.
“What the hell or where is this?” Liam asked.
“It’s where we used to play as kids, and where he’s circled is where we used to hide stuff so that our moms couldn’t find it.”
Liam nodded, stuffing the picture back into the envelope it had come in. Travis watched as he stuffed the papers back under the couch—for someone that was so concerned with safety, Liam sometimes had the most obvious hiding places. “Being his cousin and all, I figured you’d know. We need to get out there and see what he wants us to find.”
Did Liam have to go there? Remind him that they were cousins? It wasn’t like he was bound to forget anytime soon. They’d kept that secret long enough; he’d hoped they could keep it forever. “Tomorrow morning will be better. It’s hard to see out there at night.”
“Then we’ll get a group together to make the trip.”
Steele stood up, looking at his pres. “You gonna tell them?”
“It’s up to you whether you want them to know if Rooster’s your family or not. I just knew you could help me. That’s the only reason I called in the favor.”
Steele nodded and made his way out of the house without another word. Some things were better left in the past.
Chapter Four
Her heart was pounding as she ran from the house, down the blacktop road. Remnants of the snow that had fallen a few days before still lay in patches. Her bare feet hit them as she raced this way and that, trying not to run in a straight line. The last time she had tried to run, she’d learned that the hard way. The bullet had clipped her shoulder. This time was it, though; she knew that there wouldn’t be another chance. She either made it this time, or she wouldn’t. Christine knew that if she didn’t make it this time, she was dead. Clinton knew the sheriffs in Simpson, Allen, and Warren counties. They could easily cover up her murder—she would be just a Stepford housewife that had grown bored of her older husband. No one would ever believe the truth; they would never know the hell she had lived in for two years.
“Christine,” the voice called out from somewhere behind her, taunting in its tone.
She couldn’t breathe too loudly; he could hear that, and then he would know where she was. Placing her hand over her mouth, she breathed as deeply as possible, willing her heartbeat to regulate so that she no longer panted. It was hard to do, especially with how scared she was. The fear that engulfed her was all-consuming, but the bitch of it was, she didn’t know if she was scared that he would catch her or that she would never get away.
“When I find you, you’re going to be very sorry,” he threatened.
That was the truth, and she also knew that. Her stomach rolled involuntarily, and she fought back the gag that threatened her throat. His form of sick punishment was one she never wanted to witness again. It was imperative to get away this time. If she didn’t, she knew that she would kill herself—she would be done. There was no way she could continue to live in this hellhole anymore. No one should be forced into the servitude her own father had forced her into at eighteen years old. Nothing could make her live this life anymore. Glancing at her watch, she realized that the cattle truck would be coming down the road in a mere minute. It was like clockwork—every Wednesday, even if it snowed. The truck…it always made it. She had watched it for over six months, timed it to the second. A mere sixty seconds and she could be on her way to some other place.
“Goddamn it, where are you!” he yelled at her again, his voice causing unwelcome goose bumps on her arms.
He was close, much closer than was comfortable, but she knew that the cattle truck was less than a minute away. For seconds, she had to hang on. Just had to hang on. Glancing at the second hand on her watch, she saw they were less than twenty seconds out. She strained, waiting to hear the welcome sound of that rambling truck. A moment of panic set in when she didn’t hear it. It should be close enough now. She strained again, her heartbeat pounding heavily in her ears. What if this was the one time in over six months it didn’t come? What would she do? Five seconds away from having a complete nervous breakdown, she heard it. The whine of the eighteen-wheeler as it made it up the hill. When she saw the headlights, she knew that she was this close to making it. Throwing everything she had into her legs, she escaped from her hiding place and kicked her legs into long strides. Memories of running from her brother, Jagger, when they played as kids willed her faster. Her thighs burned and her feet beat against the pavement; she could feel the skin splitting as she pounded against the hard surface. The minute he saw her, she knew it. She felt it against the nape of her neck, but she was across the road from him, and the truck was about to be between them. She couldn’t stumble, she couldn’t look back, she had to give it to God and hope that he would save her this one time she asked. Running as fast as she had ever run in her life, she threw herself at the trailer, catching one of the holes that allowed the cattle to breath. Fleetingly, she heard the gunshot in the wind, but she didn’t focus on that. She focused on hanging on tight. The metal cut her hands, but she knew that she had to put miles between herself and Clinton. He would have to go more than a mile to get back to the house and get into a truck to come find her. By then, she should be at least twenty minutes ahead of him. She would drop off the truck and decide just where in the hell she was going to go. For the first time in years, she breathed. She was broken, but she wasn’t dead.
Christine jerked awake, her chest heaving. It had been a few months since she’d had that dream. Since she had relived the night she left. Sitting up in bed, she turned on the lamp that sat on her bedside table. Uncharacteristic tears streamed down her face. One thing that she wasn’t was a crier, and it had been even longer since she had done that. Beside her, her cell phone rang, and she smiled, seeing the name of her only friend.
“Hey,” she answered softly.
“You okay? The security system detected that you turned on a lamp, and I checked the video. You look like you’re crying. You’re never awake this late at night,” Travis said to her, quickly, his voice urgent.
She breathed deeply. “I had a bad dream.”
“Do I need to come?”
She wanted that more than anything, but there was a part of her that told her she couldn’t count on him like this, it wasn’t right to ask this of him. They hadn’t talked about it in depth, but he knew Jagger, and that was almost too close for her. There was a piece of her soul that longed to see her brother, but there was another piece of her soul that was pissed at him. Pissed that he had left her in the house with their father, knowing how he was. Sometimes the two feelings were interchangeable, and she wasn’t sure if she’d ever know which one she actually felt. Christine wasn’t sure that she could forgive him yet. There was one thing, though, she knew she wanted. She wanted—no needed—to see Travis Steele, even if that meant that she was counting on him too much.
For once in her life, she wanted to be selfish. She wanted the one thing that brought her a feeling of peace and a feeling of safety.
“Christy?” he asked her again, using the nickname he had been testing out on her for the past few weeks.
“Yes,” she whispered. “Would you please?”
“You don’t even have to ask me twice,” he told her. “I’ll be there in a few minutes.”
“I’ll be waiting.”
It said something about the man he was, Travis thought, as he made his way back to his dorm room still wearing the boxers he slept in, that he was willing to get out of bed at 2 AM and go console a woman that he hadn’t even slept with yet. It also said something about the feelings he had for her, feelings he knew that he shouldn’t have. Feelings that he knew would abso-fucking-lutely scare her. Feelings that scared him, if he were being honest.
He hurried back to his dorm and threw some clothes on, rubbing his hands over his face, scrubbing the sleep from his eyes. He was tired, so tired, but he knew that she needed him, and he would do anything for her. In the past few months, he had become so deeply ingrained in her life that he couldn’t remember what his life was like before her.
“Fuck,” he breathed, throwing on his cut and grabbing a cigarette from his bedside table. Lighting it and inhaling deeply, he let the nicotine rush through his body. It was few and far between that he needed those cancer sticks anymore, but sometimes he needed to feel that rush.
Between the two of them, someone was going to get hurt, and he was pretty fucking sure it was going to be him. “Man up, Steele,” he whispered as he swung his dorm room door open and made his way through the clubhouse. When he hit the kitchen that lead to the garages, he cursed again. There stood Jagger, drinking orange juice from the carton.
Heaven Hill Series - Complete Series Page 82