STEEL: Night Rebels Motorcycle Club (Night Rebels MC Romance Book 1)

by Wilder, Chiah

  “Because we’re attracted to each other, but you keep fighting it.”

  “I know I do. It’s just that I can’t get involved. I’m so fucking confused. I don’t really know you, and it seems like you want us to start from the end and work backward. Then there’s the whole ethical dilemma about me being your daughter’s caseworker. And your mother is thrown into the mix, and then—”

  He tugged her to him and stopped her from talking by pressing his lips on hers again. She moaned. He pulled away. “Just stop, okay? You want to do this right? Let’s go out to dinner tomorrow night. I’ll pick you up at seven.”

  “You’re asking me out on a date?” All her consternations stopped, she was that surprised.

  “Yeah. What? Haven’t you ever been asked out before?”

  She nodded. “Yes, of course. It’s just that I didn’t think bikers dated.”

  “What the fuck does that mean?”

  “I thought all you guys do is screw and move on. Do you date often?”

  He crossed his arms and leaned back. “Do you want to go? And to answer your question, no, I don’t date often, but I want to date you. Is this something you’re gonna talk my ear off about?”

  She laughed and cupped her chin with her fingers. “I’d love to go out to dinner with you tomorrow night. It’s just that I was taken aback by your question, that’s all.”

  His hard features softened, his scowl melting away. “Good. I’ll pick you up on my Harley at seven. I’m gonna start looking for a place to rent. You’re a persuasive woman, so I’m pretty confident you can get the department to see your side of things.”

  “You know I’m doing this for Chenoa because I truly believe she would benefit greatly by spending a lot more time with you. Even though I like you, my focus will always be on what’s best for her.”

  “As it should be.” He placed his finger on her lips then trailed it down to the base of her throat. “So you like me now?”

  She swallowed and met his gaze. “Yes. I do.”

  “That works out fine, Ms. Quine, because I like you too. A lot.” Silence filled the space between them until a knock on the door broke through it. “Come in,” he said, his gaze still locked on hers.

  The door opened and a baritone voice said, “You busy? I got something I need to tell you.”

  He broke away from her. “We just finished. Hang for a few while I walk Ms. Quine out.”

  She rose to her feet and placed her pen in her purse. “No worries. I’m good. Go ahead and speak with your friend.” She spun around and stared into the dark eyes of a tall, well-built man. This club has some of the best-looking bikers I’ve ever seen. She noticed the “Vice President” patch on his cut and his name—“Paco”—underneath it. She turned to Steel. “Thanks for answering my questions. I’ll send over the report in the morning. Bye.” She felt her cheeks warm as she passed by Paco’s watchful gaze.

  “I’ll be seeing you,” Steel said as she closed the door behind her.

  In the parking lot, she glanced at his office window and saw him standing there, watching her. Warmth spread through her before she waved and slid into the car, her emotions still reeling from what had just happened. She couldn’t believe he’d asked her on a date. Like a normal man. At that point, she realized that her view of bikers was screwed up because of her dad.

  As she turned onto the main highway, she vowed that she’d give Steel a chance, pushing aside her prejudices. She was still a bit squeamish about him being her client’s father, but she knew he was dedicated to Chenoa, and they were both working toward the best thing for her.

  She turned on the radio and cranked it up when Bon Jovi’s “Living on a Prayer” came on. Giddiness bubbled through her like champagne at a celebration. For the first time in a long time, she was happy and excited. And it was wonderful.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Steel leaned against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest as he watched his brothers shuffle into the meeting room. The club normally had church once a week, but if something pressing came up, he’d call an emergency one to flesh out the problem and try to come up with a solution. The topic for the day’s church was the buy that Jigger had set up.

  “My fuckin’ 1200 Custom could outride your Roadster any damn day,” Eagle said as he pulled out one of the chairs from the large table.

  “Put your money where your fuckin’ mouth is,” Crow answered. “Let’s test it out this Saturday on Old Trail Road.”

  “I’ve got five hundred bucks on Eagle’s Custom,” Cueball said as he tipped his chair against the wall.

  “Three hundred on the Roadster,” Sangre said, throwing three hundred-dollar bills on the table.

  Soon all the brothers were in on the betting, and the two piles of bills were growing larger as the minutes lapsed. Steel looked on in amusement. He secretly thought Eagle’s 1200 Custom could beat Crow’s bike, but since he was the president, he decided not to join in the betting. The jovial ribbing turned into snide remarks, followed by shouting, and then the inevitable fistfights.

  After a few brothers punched each other, Steel stepped in. “Take your fucking seats! We got shit to discuss. You wanna fight? Do it after church.” He slammed the gavel on the wooden table. Some of the brothers grunted, wiped their noses, and stared daggers at one another, but they sat down, joining the other members. Steel nodded, then looked at Jigger who was nursing a bloody nose. “You got shit to report?”

  He tipped his head back, pulling another tissue from his pocket and stuffing some of it up his right nostril. “Yeah. The first thing I wanna say is I’m fuckin’ stoked that I’m not a teen anymore.” The membership roared, clapped, and whistled. “And I’m never gonna throw another fuckin’ bowling ball again.” Again, laughs and retorts from the brothers.

  “So you’ve proven you can do stand-up comedy if your ass gets thrown outta the club, which I’m aiming to do if you don’t get to the goddamn point.” Steel pushed the chair in front of him with his steel-toed boot. Paco snickered, along with a few other brothers.

  Jigger stood up. “Sorry, Prez. I got the info for a couple of dudes selling smack in the area. I’ve set up the buy for next Thursday night. I figured it’d be better ’cause this cow town dies at about eight on weeknights.”

  “Did you find out the motherfucker’s name?” Steel asked.

  “Goes by something real original—Candyman.”

  The members busted up again, and Steel banged his gavel down a few times. “Figures. Do you have his phone number?”

  Jigger nodded. “I set up the buy by using the number some fifteen-year-old gave me. Candyman uses a burner phone ’cause I called the number the next day and it was no longer in commission.”

  “This Candyman isn’t the main source, but we’ll bring him back here and ‘persuade’ him that, if he likes living, he best cooperate with us. Any volunteers?” All hands in the room shot up as the members yelled out and cursed the drug dealer. “You fucking animals,” Steel joked as he picked Crow, Sangre, Diablo, Cueball, Skull, and Brutus to be part of the welcoming committee for the following Thursday night.

  The rest of church was filled with reports from Sangre about the money coming into the club from its various businesses. Some discussion was had on securing contractors to repair the roof of the clubhouse, as well as other administrative issues. When Steel slammed the gavel down, announcing church was done, the men jumped up and made their way to the main room to have a drink.

  Sangre leaned over and scooped up the bet money. “I better oversee this one,” he said to Steel and Paco as he counted the bills and secured them with rubber bands. After he was done, he left to join the other brothers.

  “How about a game of pool? I got three hundred bucks to lay down tonight,” Paco said as he pushed in the chairs.

  “Not tonight. Maybe tomorrow. I got somewhere I gotta be.”

  “You gonna see Chenoa again? I thought you spent most of the day with her.”

  Steel narrowed his
eyes. “How the fuck is it any of your business where I’m going?”

  Paco stopped sliding a chair and looked up. “What the hell’s up with you? Since when are you so damn testy?”

  “I just gotta get going.” As he walked out the door, he turned sideways and pointed at a chair. “You pushed that one in a little crooked. Better fix it.”

  “Fuck you,” Paco said as he went over to straighten the chair. Steel laughed and left the room.

  An hour later he came into the main room and went up to the bar. The prospect set a shot of tequila in front of him. “Thanks, Rugger,” Steel said as he brought the drink to his lips. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Paco racking up the balls on the pool table. He threw back the shot and jerked his chin at the prospect.

  Outside, pomegranate pink emblazoned the sky as the sun started its descent over the craggy mountain peaks. The eastern sky was already darkening to obsidian as a few scattered stars poked through, shimmering brightly. Steel stretched his leather gloves over his hands and swung his leg over his Harley. He was just ready to switch on the engine when he heard footsteps approaching him. He looked over and saw Paco and Skull coming toward him.

  Fuck!

  “Hey, don’t mean to keep you, but Skull and I have an ongoing argument we need you to settle,” Paco said.

  “What is it?”

  “What year was the belt drive given to all Sportster models? I say it was 1992 and Skull—”

  “You’re fuckin’ wrong, dude. It was 1991. I’d bet my Fat Boy on it.” Skull scrubbed his face with his fist.

  Steel adjusted himself on the seat of his bike. “Don’t. It was 1993.” He held up his hand as the two brothers started to argue. “I don’t have time for this. Google it and see that I’m right. I gotta go.”

  Paco came up close to him and sniffed. “Fuck, you smell good.” He wiggled his brows and Skull guffawed. “You seeing the pretty blonde who was cozy on your couch yesterday?”

  Steel scowled. “Fuck off.”

  “He’s seeing her,” Skull said. “Question is, are you gonna fuck her?” He slapped his hand against Paco’s arm and the two men laughed.

  Steel’s nostrils flared as he bared his teeth. The urge to jump off his bike and pummel Skull into a bloody pulp seized him. Their laughter died as they stared at him. “I was only joking, dude. I just thought she was some chick. Sorry,” Skull muttered.

  Breathing heavily, Steel willed his rage to simmer as he sat immobile on his Harley. Paco tugged at Skull’s shirt. “Steel’s gotta get going. Come on.” He pulled his friend away, then stopped. “I’ve never seen you like this about a chick, so I didn’t know. I just thought it was business as usual.”

  Steel shook his head. “She’s just a chick, but I don’t want anyone talking shit about her.”

  “Yeah. No worries. Have a good time.” Paco walked back to the clubhouse with Skull on his heels. They looked back at him before they went inside.

  Steel slammed his hand on the handlebars. Fuck those assholes! He switched on the ignition and sped away from the clubhouse. He didn’t have a clue as to why he wanted to annihilate Skull for joking around about a chick. He would’ve done the same thing if the roles had been reversed, but he hated hearing Skull talk like Breanna was just a piece of ass. She was different from any woman he’d ever met. She intrigued and fascinated him, but she also exasperated and pissed the hell out of him, and she was always in his head.

  He slowed down when he entered the town and made his way to her small house, parking his motorcycle on the street and striding up to the porch. He rang the bell and the door flew open. Breanna smiled broadly at him and opened the screen door, moving aside as he entered her home.

  “I see the prospect did a good job of fixing your door,” he said as he sat on the back of the couch.

  She swatted his forearm lightly. “You’re damn lucky he did.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Oh yeah? And what were you gonna do if he didn’t?”

  “Make you come over and do it.”

  “Coming over here wouldn’t be a chore for me, baby.” He ran his gaze over her body, loving the way her tight jeans showed off her rounded curves and toned legs. Her crop top revealed enough skin to throw his dick in overdrive. A small sparkle from the top of her belly button hinted at hidden treasures further below. He sucked in his breath as he imagined what she would look like when he ripped her clothes from her tempting body.

  “My face is up here,” she said, breaking his pornographic reverie.

  He slid his gaze upward and captured hers. “And it’s a beautiful one. Your hair makes you look angelic, but I bet you got more devil in you than anything else.”

  She tilted her head back, her laughter sparkling like diamonds under a bright light. He gripped her arm and drew her to him, then planted a kiss on her throat. He loved the way it vibrated against his lips. He cupped her ass cheeks and squeezed them but she twisted away, her golden hair swaying with her. “You promised to behave.”

  He cocked his head to the side, a half smile tugging at his lips. “I didn’t promise shit. Besides, there’s no fucking way I could promise you that. You’re too tempting.” He licked his lips and chuckled when crimson painted her cheeks.

  “Aren’t we supposed to go out to dinner?” She turned away and picked up a small purse. “I’m starving, and before you turn that into something sexual, I mean for food—like enchiladas and burritos.”

  He laughed as he straightened up. “I did promise to feed you. Let’s go.” He walked outside and waited for her to lock the door, then grabbed her hand and walked down the sidewalk to his bike. “Your dad take you on Harley rides when you were a kid?”

  “Yeah. I haven’t been on one for a long time. I’d say it’s been about fifteen years or so.”

  “It’ll come back to you. Just make sure you hold me real tight and press yourself close.”

  A puzzled look crossed her face. “Is that to keep my balance better?”

  He swung his leg over and sat on the leather seat. “Nah. It’s for me to feel your tits against my back.” He winked at her. “Get on.” She climbed on, putting her feet on the footrest and then placing her hands lightly on his hips. “You’re gonna have to hold on tighter. My custom is one helluva powerful machine. If you’re not holding on, you’re gonna find yourself on your cute ass.” She rolled her eyes but didn’t reposition her hands. “All right. You’ve been warned.” He turned on the ignition and the iron horse roared to life.

  When he pulled away from the curb, he heard Breanna yelp, then felt her arms wrap tightly around his waist. He could’ve told her that he warned her, but he let it go because he was enjoying how incredible she felt pressed into him. She was the only woman who’d ever been on his bike aside from Chenoa. He never thought he’d ask a woman to ride with him, but there was something about Breanna that made her the exception to his rules. The novelty both excited and angered him, but for that night, he’d decided to just go with it.

  Jalisco’s was located in the middle of the block on Main Street. With a brightly painted yellow exterior and large terracotta planters overflowing with pink, red, purple, and blue flowers by the entrance, the restaurant was a landmark in Alina. The interior was just as colorful, each wall painted a different shade of green and yellow. Acrylic paintings depicting village and landscape scenes from Jalisco, Mexico, adorned the walls. In the back, a patio with about fifteen wrought iron tables and chairs welcomed guests during the summer and autumn months. Strands of red, green, yellow, and orange chili pepper lights strung around the perimeter of the patio made the area festive.

  Steel watched how her lips curved around the rim of her margarita glass, wishing like hell they were around his dick. The tip of her pink tongue licked the granules of salt off her bottom lip and he shifted in his chair.

  “It’s such a beautiful night,” she said as she picked up a chip and dipped it in the salsa that sat in the middle of the table. “I’m glad it’s not too hot. We lucked out.”
She smiled and her whole face lit up like a star on the darkest night. Without thinking, he reached out and rubbed his thumb under her lip. She pulled back slightly, her smile dissipating.

  “Don’t stop. I love the way you smile. It lights up your whole face, like a beam of sunshine.”

  She licked her lips and he followed her movement. “You’re a very unique man. I can’t quite figure you out.”

  “How’s that?”

  “You’re president of an outlaw club. You’re definitely a hothead.” She put her hand up near his face as if to stop any comments by him. “You are and you know it. You wear a smirk on your handsome face most of the time, yet you say things that are so beautiful. Even romantic.” She shook her head. “I just can’t figure you out.”

  “You think I’m handsome?”

  She burst out laughing. “You know you are. And it figures that’s all you got out of what I said.”

  He leaned back and smirked on purpose. “I appreciate a pretty woman with a nice smile. I tend to relate things to nature due to my heritage. The Navajos have a deep relationship with nature—they respect and fear it at the same time. There’s nothing I like doing more than taking off on my bike and getting lost in the solitude of a mountain peak or valley. It cleanses the soul.”

  She placed her hand on his and squeezed it. “You’re an anomaly among bikers, and I mean that in a good way.”

  “And you’re different from government workers I’ve dealt with in the past.” He slipped his hand on top of hers, brought it to his mouth, and kissed it. “And that’s fucking awesome.”

  A comfortable silence fell between them, broken only when the waitress came up with two steaming plates. “Tamale platter?” Her eyes darted between them. Steel jerked his chin at her and she set his dinner in front of him. She placed a smothered burrito in front of Breanna, checked if they wanted anything else, and rushed away.

  “Are you going to share with me how you got the scar on your face?” Breanna asked as she cut into her burrito.