“But I was busy with you.” She grinned.
“Yeah.” He raised his eyebrows, which made her laugh. “Why don’t you give him a good surprise?”
“Okay. You sure you don’t need me to soothe your worries?”
“I’m sure. Have some fun.” He smiled as she pranced out of the room, then pulled himself up and locked the door. Taking out his phone, he noticed his mother had called him a few times. It must have been when he was at Mount Hesperus. He dialed her number.
“Shimá.” He and his siblings had always used the Navajo word for mother.
“How’s Chenoa? I’ve been worried all night,” she said.
“Yeah, sorry about that. I should’ve called you. She pulled through. She was damn lucky she got to the hospital when she did.”
“It was her caseworker. Where was Mika? The lady said that she couldn’t get a hold of her. When I think what would’ve happened had she not been there….” Her voice broke.
“Yeah. We were lucky. I’m beat, Shimá. After I see Chenoa tomorrow, I’ll come by your place.”
“Okay. Do you have the caseworker’s phone number? I want to call and thank her.”
“I don’t. Mika has it. Call her in the morning and get it from her. Go on to sleep now. It’s late.” He hung up the phone, switched off the lights, and positioned his chair toward the window, staring out into the blackness as he brought the bottle to his lips.
The social worker’s face jumped into his mind. He smiled when he remembered how defiant she looked when she challenged him. He had to give her credit for not backing down. She had a nice ass and a decent rack. He shook his head and took another sip of tequila. She was actually damn pretty. What the fuck was her name? Brenda?
When he’d first entered the room, he was shocked to see her with his daughter. And the first time he saw her electric blue eyes, he was taken aback. He’d never seen such a beautiful shade of blue before, and coupled with her long golden hair, her sexy curves, and her full lips, he would’ve taken a taste of her if the circumstances had been different.
Then she told him she was a government worker, and his lust blazed into anger. There was no way he’d want anything to do with her; she was the establishment, and that didn’t sit well with him. He swallowed another drink. But she sure is pretty. Fucking sexy. And the way she looked at him when he’d come into the room made his dick go hard. Her face gave her away, and he knew if he wanted it, he could have her in his bed in a couple of days. He’d give her the best fucking she’d ever had. But he had no intention of doing it. He didn’t need her, and even if she begged him—which he was damned sure she would end up doing—he wouldn’t have anything to do with her. She was the worst kind of citizen—a government employee. She was the reason Chenoa couldn’t come to the clubhouse and visit him.
Anger rode up his spine and he pushed the bottle away. He should fuck the know-it-all county worker and then never touch her again. It would serve her right.
Shit, I’ve had too damn much to drink. He stumbled over to his bed and flopped down. Closing his eyes, strands of hair as gold as sunshine danced in front of him until he passed out.
Chapter Three
The sun flooded his room through the uncovered window. Steel groaned as the light seeped through his cracked eyelids. He covered his eyes with his arm, pressing down hard in a vain attempt to stop the throbbing in his temples. His mouth tasted like he drank a bottle of sand, and he grudgingly grasped the end of his nightstand and pulled himself up. Sitting upright, his head pounded relentlessly. He pulled open the nightstand drawer and took out a bottle of aspirin, shaking out three pills and popping them in his mouth before swaying to the bathroom to get a glass of water. As he gulped them down and looked at himself in the mirror, puffy eyes greeted him. He splashed cold water on his face to cool down his hangover. Glancing at the clock on the shelf over the toilet, he realized that he’d overslept. He hurriedly jumped in the shower, having wanted to be at the hospital an hour before.
After drying off and throwing on some clothes, Steel walked into the clubhouse’s kitchen and poured a cup of coffee. He loved it black and strong, so Lena, the woman who worked in the kitchen, always made sure she had a pot waiting for him just the way he liked it. “Want a breakfast burrito?” she asked as he sat at the island sipping his coffee. He shook his head. “You sure? Not good to start the day on an empty stomach.”
“I started plenty of days without food when I was a kid. It didn’t hurt me.” He knew if he didn’t nip the conversation in the bud, Lena would talk his ear off, and that was the last thing he wanted in the shape he was in.
Lena had started working in the kitchen three years before after her old man—Cross Bones, one of the brothers—left her for a woman half her age. In her early forties, Lena had been devastated. What made the betrayal even worse was that the other woman was the old lady of Chains, another club member. The club kicked Cross Bones out and brought Lena in to supervise and work the kitchen. She’d been lost when her old man dumped her, missing the club she’d become a part of through him. In the past three years, the Night Rebels had enjoyed some damn tasty dishes. The club girls helped out, but the understanding was that what Lena said went, and none of the brothers would ever contradict her. For the most part she and the club girls got along, and the men were well fed.
After he finished his coffee, Steel jerked his head at Lena and went out to his Harley, jumping on and riding to the hospital. When he entered Chenoa’s room, she was sitting up in bed, a breakfast tray in front of her, her dark eyes glued to the television.
“Hey, sunshine. How’re you feeling?” He came over and kissed her head while running his fingers over her cheek.
“Dad….” She grimaced when he said her nickname.
He laughed. Ever since she was a baby, she was always smiling and grinning at everything, and her eyes would light up just like the sun. He’d started calling her his little sunshine from then on. Now that she was seventeen years old, he still called her “sunshine.” She pretended not to like it, but the way her eyes lit up, he knew she still loved the term of endearment. “They feeding you pretty good in here?”
She lifted the silver dome over a bowl of lumpy oatmeal. “What do you think?”
He ruffled her hair. “Fucking nasty. I’ll smuggle you in a cheeseburger with fries and a strawberry shake.”
Her eyes danced. He loved it when they did that. Looking at her wide grin and glittering eyes, he wished he could freeze the moment forever. He never wanted her eyes to turn flat or her face to grow placid. She’d always be his little girl—his sunshine—and he wanted to protect her from the world.
“Can you go now and get it? I’m starving.”
“Large fries and shake?”
“You know it.” He walked toward the door. “Dad?” He turned around. “Thanks. I love you.”
He nodded. “I love you too, sunshine.”
* * *
After she’d eaten, Steel pushed the tray away and sat down next to her, taking her hands in his. “You scared the shit out of your mother and me, you know?”
She bowed her head. “I’m sorry.”
“I’m not saying this shit to make you feel bad, just telling you like it is. You got a problem, little girl.” He held up his hand as she began to respond. “I don’t want to hear your bullshit denials. You’re an addict and you gotta fix yourself or you’ll be lost forever. I know your mom and I don’t want that, and I’m pretty sure you don’t either.”
“I want to go home.” She looked up at him.
“I know you do, but you’re not ready to be on your own. You gotta stay in here for the next three weeks to detox your system.” She groaned and covered her ears, but he gently pulled away her hands. “I know you don’t want to hear or face this shit, but you got yourself in a mess and you gotta get out of it. I’ll come by every day to visit you. Your mom will be here. You’ve got our support. You just have to get better, and stay away from drugs. It’s shit and y
ou know it.” He stared pointedly at her.
“Can’t I do it through an outpatient program?”
“No. ODing tells me you’re in deep. After you get out, I’m in charge. I want to know all your friends’ first and last names. You can write out the list today and I’ll take it with me when I come back to see you.”
“Dad, you’re going to kill my social life. I know you won’t just hang onto the list. You’ll browbeat and bully all my friends so that by the time I get out of here, I won’t have any left.”
“Your real friends will be left.”
She shook her head, her dark eyes narrowing. “Mom’s cool with my friends.”
“Your mom doesn’t know half the shit you do. Anyway, this is between you and me. And you gotta get your ass back to school. Your mom told me you dropped out a couple of months ago.”
“Breanna is setting me up with taking classes to get my GED. You should be happy about that since it’ll keep me busy.” She stared at the television.
When he heard the caseworker’s name, he paused. “Has she already come by to see you?”
“Yeah. She was here for about an hour. She left a few minutes before you came.”
“Is she coming back?”
Chenoa shrugged. “I don’t think so. Why?”
“No reason. Just wondered.” Why the fuck am I asking my kid about her snobby social worker? What the hell’s up with that?
Just then he heard footsteps and looked at the door, his pulse quickening a bit. When he saw Mika walk to the bed, a twinge of disappointment ran through him. He turned his head toward Chenoa.
“Hi, baby. It’s great seeing you up. You must be feeling better.” Mika put her purse down on the tray, then turned to Steel. “You brought her lunch?”
“Breakfast, actually.” She smiled at him. He rose to his feet. “Sit down. I’ll sit over there.” He headed to a chair in the corner of the room and sank down, watching the two of them talk. He noticed how Mika’s long black hair fell to her waist. Back when he’d met her in high school, her long hair had charged every teen hormone he’d had in his body. Back then, he’d been constantly hard for her, and when they’d started dating, he’d fantasized twenty times a day about being with her.
When he’d hit thirteen years old, his sonofabitch father, in one of his many alcoholic rages, had told him to make sure that he never made a bitch pregnant because it would tie him to her for life. The example he’d always give was how he’d knocked up Steel’s mom and had to marry her. He’d then tell Steel that he was the bastard who forced him to marry. As he’d grown older, he’d listened to his father less.
One night when Mika had been fifteen years old, she’d sat on top of his dad’s beat-up pickup and looked up at the stars glittering in the summer sky. She’d grabbed his hand and told him she was carrying his baby. At first he’d just stared at her as thoughts spun through his mind like a spinning top. When he hadn’t said anything, she’d begun to cry. He’d wanted to say something, but he’d lost his ability to speak. He hadn’t been able to comprehend that he was going to be a father at sixteen years old. He’d figured he’d knocked her up the night he had taken her out to Dolores River Canyon, spread a blanket on the ground, and popped her cherry.
Seven months after Mika had told him he was going to be a father, his baby daughter was born. They’d named her Chenoa, meaning “dove” in Navajo. Steel had loved his daughter right from the start when he’d seen her strip of black hair and her tiny fisted hands jerking all around. From that day on, Mika had taken more than a possessive interest in their daughter. He’d always felt that Mika had wanted to keep Chenoa closer to her than to him.
And she was still doing it. Mika constantly accused him of not doing enough, but he was always there whenever their daughter needed anything. He jutted out his chin. Mika and the damn county are the ones who’re keeping Chenoa from coming to the club. If she were able to come, I’d see her all the time.
He stood up. “I gotta go. I’m going to see your Análí.” He went over and kissed her.
“Tell Análí I said hi. Maybe she can visit me?” Chenoa picked up the remote and changed the channel.
“If she’s up to it, I can bring her by tomorrow. I’ll see you later tonight.” He left the room. On the way out, he snickered when he saw several of the nurses checking him out. He took the elevator down to the lobby, then headed to the parking lot, hopped on his bike, and drove to his mother’s.
She lived in the same house he’d grown up in on the reservation. He pulled into the driveway next to an unfamiliar blue Ford Focus. Swinging open the screen door, he walked into the living room, expecting to see his mother in her favorite recliner, but it was empty. As he glanced around, he heard her softly talking in the kitchen. He shook his head; he’d often come over unannounced and find her in a conversation with herself. He strode into the kitchen, then stopped dead in his tracks. His mother sat at the kitchen table, her hands clasped together on top of it, and the back of a woman faced him as she stood in front of the refrigerator. The woman had long blonde hair tumbling down her back, touching the top of her ass. That ass. I know it. I fucking thought about it last night far too much.
“Steel, how are you?” his mother asked.
Breanna whirled around, and he laughed inwardly at the shocked expression on her face. In her hands, she held a carton of eggs that were ready to hit the floor. He jumped over and grabbed it, his hand grazing her soft breast. Static electricity shocked his system.
Whoa! What the hell?
He placed the carton on the stove and took a step back in order to get a better view. His gaze ran over her, lingering on her to-die-for hips and full breasts. I didn’t notice how stacked she was last night. What’s wrong with me? I’m acting like a fool. I’ve seen stacked babes before. I’ve fucked enough of them. And what’s up with her scent? It wasn’t in-your-face; rather a fresh, clean smell, like rain on a spring day. It was enticing and was playing havoc with his dick.
Focus, man.
He crossed his arms. “What the hell are you doing here?”
“You don’t go in for pleasantries, do you, Mr. McVickers?”
“Steel, watch your manners,” his mother admonished. “Ms. Quine is here about my food stamps.”
Steel pulled his gaze from Breanna to his mom. “Why the fuck are you on food stamps? I keep asking if you need money and you keep telling me no. I don’t want you taking anything from the goddamn government.”
His mother looked down and unclasped her hands.
“We have food stamps to make sure everyone eats,” Breanna said.
Steel glared at her. “The government wants to make everyone dependent on them. They’d love to cripple us all.”
She smiled. “You’re a bit paranoid, aren’t you?” She picked up the carton of eggs and went over to the stove. Looking over her shoulder, she said, “Your antigovernment attitude is becoming annoying.”
Steel narrowed his eyes. “Your fucking meddling in my family’s life is pissing me off in a way that’s gonna get you hurt.” When she stiffened and stayed silent, he rocked back on his heels. With a dismissive nod, he turned to his mother. “You’re getting off the goddamn program, and I’m giving you money for groceries.”
“You always react before you know what’s going on,” his mother said softly as she brushed stray hairs from her face. “I’ve got a lot of mouths to feed. The grandkids live with me and they’re all eligible for the program. I called the department to report the loss of my card. Ms. Quine is who they sent. She’s trying to help me.”
He snorted, pulling out the kitchen chair with his foot and sitting down. “Just great. How are you trying to help, Ms. Quine?”
“You don’t have to patronize me. You mother has lost her EBT card.”
“What the fuck is that?”
“Steel, please.” His mother placed her hand on his.
Breanna turned to face him. “It’s short for Electronic Benefit Transfer. It means that instea
d of having paper currency for the benefits, they’re put on a card. It’s sort of like a debit card.”
Her face had wisps of red streaking across it, and he liked that he was making her nervous. He had no idea why he liked it, but he did. “How fucking efficient and clever. And the government just happened to send you?”
She scrubbed the side of her neck with her fist. “I’m one of three social workers assigned to the reservation. Since your daughter is one of my clients, your mother was naturally assigned to me. We like to keep family cases together. It makes sense to do it that way. Do you have any more questions?”
“Yeah. Why the fuck are you here?”
“Steel!” His mother smacked his forearm lightly.
“No worries, Mrs. McVickers. Your son is not the first rude person I’ve met. So many people take out their issues and frustrations on others. I just ignore it. It goes with the territory of being a social worker.”
Steel shook his head. “You still haven’t answered my question.”
“I don’t have to, since you’re not my client, but I will to show you how an adult acts in this type of situation. Your mother has misplaced her card again. I need to ask her some questions because this is the sixth time in the past eight months that she’s reported a lost card. When I came over, she told me she was faint. She also told me she hadn’t eaten in a couple of days. That’s why I’m at the stove with a skillet and some eggs. Would you like me to make you an omelet, Mr. McVickers?”
He was torn between chewing her ass out for her snarky attitude and shaking some sense into his mother. He turned to her. “What the fuck’s going on with you? Why haven’t you eaten anything, Shimá?” He pounded his fist on the table and both Breanna and his mother jumped. “How can I help you when I don’t know what the hell is going on? Fuck! First Chenoa and now you?” He kicked back from the table and ran his hand through his long hair.
STEEL: Night Rebels Motorcycle Club (Night Rebels MC Romance Book 1) Page 3