“I’m not your fucking father, so don’t always compare me to him when things seem fucked up to you. And my version of respect isn’t a double standard. I treat you with respect. I said something about Chenoa not being your kid and you got all fucking bent out of shape. Why the hell didn’t you answer my text?”
“I just figured you didn’t want me around Chenoa since she wasn’t my daughter.”
He snorted. “Bullshit. It’s more like you were pouting and trying to punish me for saying something you didn’t like. I don’t go in for games, baby. If I don’t like something, I’m gonna tell you. If I like something, I’m gonna tell you. You’re acting childish as fuck.”
Her mouth twisted into a grimace. “I was only concerned because I don’t want the department to revoke Chenoa living with you. It’s a very real thing that can happen. Then you tell me not to worry since she’s not mine. Since when do people have to be related in order to care about them? I do care about Chenoa, and I did even before I met you. So your remark was fucking stupid.”
The scalding anger which had been coursing through his veins earlier began to seep out, a radiating warmth slowly replacing it. He swung her into his arms and held her tightly while she twisted to get free.
“Let me go,” she huffed, her face red.
“No,” he said softly. Her upper lip curled in disdain. “Don’t give me that look, baby. I’m admitting that I may have said something to piss you off, but you need to talk to me about it instead of ignoring me.”
“Can’t you just say you’re sorry? Is it that hard?”
“I sent you a text,” he said curtly.
“You mean the lame one that said you may have said something you didn’t mean.” She laughed dryly. “Didn’t do it for me.”
Why the fuck do I want this woman? She irritates the hell outta me. “I told you I don’t play games.”
“I’m not playing games. This is about owning something you did that hurt me. If you can’t do that, then we have a real problem.”
“What the fuck do you want from me?” he asked in a low voice taut with anger.
“An apology.” Her gaze held his.
“Fuck, woman.” Apologizing wasn’t his style. He’d make up for shit he was sorry he said or did through actions, not words. Maybe it was because when he was growing up, his father used to make him apologize for being a bastard every time he whipped him with a belt or tree branch. “I owned it. You fucking know that. Saying a few words doesn’t mean shit.” He inhaled sharply. “When I was growing up, my dad always made a shitload of promises to all of us and never fucking delivered. Not once.” He remembered how his dad would tell his mom how much he loved her, but he treated her like shit most of the time. Steel lived in a world of action and few words. Actions were the reflection of a person’s heart and soul; words were cheap knockoffs.
Breanna stroked his cheek. It was as if she felt the pain from his childhood, and she understood. “I know,” she whispered. She clasped her hand behind his neck and pulled his face to hers, kissing him with such tenderness that it took him aback.
“Oh, baby.” He tugged her closer and held her snugly as he kissed her passionately. “Never doubt that I love you. You’re very important to me and Chenoa.”
“Thanks for that. And you’re right, I acted silly. I should’ve told you how I felt.”
“It’s in the past. I want you to come back to my place. I need you, baby.” He cupped her ass and squeezed her rounded cheeks. He could squeeze her fine butt all day long. He’d never been so crazy in love with any woman the way he was with her.
“What about Chenoa?” she whispered between kisses.
“She’s cool. She likes that we’re together. I want you to spend the night. I’m tired of waking up without you next to me.”
“Me too. I’ve missed you so much.” She pillowed her head against his shoulder. “I’ll go over tonight, but first I have to show her my new eyeshadows. She’s been waiting.”
They went out and Chenoa craned her neck. “Did you guys make up?”
Breanna sank down on the couch and handed her the makeup box. “Why’re you asking that?”
“Because it was obvious you had a fight. I mean, this is the first time I’ve ever seen my dad so glum and anxious over a woman. He must’ve checked his phone like a million times during dinner to see if you’d contacted him.”
“You’re exaggerating a bit, aren’t you?” He laughed and ruffled her hair. “Let’s head out.”
* * *
Once they were home, Chenoa made a big bowl of popcorn that they all shared as he sat through one of the corniest love stories he’d ever had to endure. He knew that Chenoa and Breanna would unite forces against him and he’d end up watching some crappy-ass movie. He didn’t mind if it meant spending the night with his two favorite girls.
After the movie, Chenoa went up to bed and he and Breanna made out for a little bit on the couch. When they moved it to his bedroom, she was nervous about making too much noise when they made love, but as he heightened her arousal, she let herself go. Steel loved watching how she gave in to her passion the more he teased and played with her. And when he hovered over her and shoved his hard cock inside her, he covered her mouth with his and swallowed her moans of pleasure as he fucked her long and good. Her nails digging into his flesh heightened his sexual delight, making him crave her again before they’d even finished.
As he plunged into her over and over, her face contorted and he knew she was close. He rubbed his index finger against her hard, slick spot and sucked her nipples as the tide of ecstasy ripped through her. Watching her come while trying to keep her moans and whimpers low turned him way the fuck on. When she opened her eyes, they were misted with love and satisfaction. He stiffened and held her gaze as he rasped, “Breanna,” and then he filled her. His cock kept twitching in her as her pussy walls clamped around him, milking his dick dry. She kissed his head and caressed him as he panted before collapsing on top of her, his chest heaving.
After a long while, he rolled off her and tugged her close to him. They fell asleep from total exhaustion, locked in each other’s arms.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chenoa sat in Jefferson High’s cafeteria picking at her lukewarm burrito. She’d been in school for almost a month, and she hated it more each day. She’d been so bummed when she’d found out Michela and Josie weren’t in any of her classes. Because she’d skipped so much school, and her mom hadn’t followed through with the homeschooling the way she should have, she was in a bunch of remedial classes.
She glanced at the wall clock. Josie and Michela should be here soon. Hanging with them during lunch and after school were the only highlights of her school days. She felt like a fish out of water; she was the only person from the reservation at the school. She’d met Josie and Michela when her mom had joined a mom’s group when she’d been like five years old. They’d gone to grade school together for a few years, but after her mom had a falling out with their mothers, she’d been pulled out of the town’s elementary school and enrolled in the reservation’s. When she reconnected with Josie and Michela on social media, they’d become fast friends.
Chenoa opened her Spanish book and went over the vocabulary for the quiz later that afternoon, jerking her head up when something hit the table she was sitting at. Her stomach twisted in a knot when she saw Hannah, Abigail, Morgan, and Hailey standing in front of her. They were the popular girls in the school, especially the junior class. They were the cheerleaders who spurred on the mediocre football team with their inane cheers, and they walked around bullying anyone who didn’t fit into their definition of beautiful. For the past week, they’d latched onto her. Chenoa wished she were invisible again like when she’d first started the school year.
She stared blankly at them.
“You’re at our table,” Hannah chirped. She was the ringleader who wore too much lipstick and gloss, and way too many hair extensions.
“I didn’t know you coul
d reserve tables,” Chenoa replied.
“I don’t think you heard Hannah,” Morgan said as she placed her hands on the table and leaned forward. “You’re at our fucking table.” The other girls sniggered.
Chenoa looked around and noticed several empty tables. “I was here first.” She swung her hand in a semicircle. “There are plenty of empty ones.” She spotted Michela and Josie and waved them over.
“What’s going on?” Josie asked under her breath, her eyes wide as she took in the perky quartet.
“They’re saying—”
Hannah interrupted Chenoa. “She’s sitting at our table.”
“Oh,” said Josie. She and Michela immediately jumped up. “Let’s go over there.” Josie pointed to a table on the other side of the room.
“Fuck no. I’m not going anywhere. You don’t own this table.” Her dark eyes flashed.
“Leave it alone, Chenoa,” Michela whispered. “They get any table they want. It’s easier to move than to make a big issue out of it.”
“I don’t give a damn.” She jutted her chin out in defiance and stared at Hannah. “You’re not getting this table ’cause I’m not fucking moving. If you wanna do something about it, just say the word.”
Hannah’s face twisted and the other girls with her gasped. It seemed like she was weighing her options, but Chenoa’s blazing eyes and clenched teeth stayed steady. “I shouldn’t expect too much from reservation trash,” she said. Abigail, Morgan, and Hailey laughed. “Let’s go, girls.” They walked away and Hannah said over her shoulder, “Watch yourself, squaw. You’ve made an enemy.” They went out through the doors leading to the courtyard.
“Why the hell didn’t you just move?” Josie asked as she set her backpack on the floor. “Hannah and her clique can make your life at Jefferson miserable.”
Michela nodded. “Josie’s right. That was a bad move. Nobody challenges Hannah and her sisters.”
“I’m not letting that bitch tell me what to do. I don’t give a shit about what she says or does. I can hold my own. She doesn’t bother me.” But the racial slurs Hannah had said pierced through Chenoa, even though she’d never admit it to her friends. Why the fuck is Dad making me do this shit? Licks of fire burned through her as she pushed away her burrito.
When she got home from school that day, her dad was in the garage messing with his Harley. His big smile melted her heart.
“How was school?”
“Fine.”
“Everything going okay? Anything you wanna talk about?”
“Everything’s fine and there’s nothing I wanna talk about. I got a lot of homework, so I’m gonna go to my room and get started on it.”
Steel wiped the grease from his face with a rag. “I’m grilling steaks tonight. Some of the guys are gonna come by for some chow. You wanna invite any friends?”
“Nope,” she said over her shoulder as she walked inside the house. She closed her bedroom door, threw her backpack across the room, and then flung herself on her bed. Chenoa loved her mom and dad so much, and her dad was trying so hard to be there for her. She saw the fear in the fringes of his eyes and it made her feel bad and guilty. She knew she’d put it there. As long as she could remember, she never saw fear in her dad, and now she saw it every day. I’m scared too, Dad. She’d been out of rehab for almost two months, and still the memory of the heroin rush clung to her. She wanted to feel it again. At times she felt as though she was being deprived of air, the want of it that prevalent.
She hated how overpowering smack’s lure was; it felt like someone was constantly pulling on her sleeve, relentlessly attempting to guide her in the opposite direction she was trying to go. I can’t go back to using. I can’t. I don’t want to disappoint Mom or Dad. And Dad’s trying so hard. Fuck! Why can’t I get the memory of it out of my mind? She hit her head repeatedly with her fists, hoping the pain would mask the thought of the drug.
I just have to make it. I just do. I’ll be okay. I’m okay.
Her shoulders slumped and she stared at the Navajo-patterned comforter on her bed that her mother had given her. Her mind was a clouded gray, and her briny tears welled in the cracks of her lips as the hollowness within engulfed her.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Steel sat on the back patio drinking a cup of black coffee, absentmindedly watching the changing aspen leaves sway in the crisp breeze. His gut told him Chenoa was on a slippery slope. She smiled at dinner, laughed at his jokes, but he saw the hunger lurking in her, along with her waning strength. Whenever he asked if she wanted to talk, she would just shake her head. She’d reconnected with some of her old friends on the rez; friends who were like vultures waiting to devour her. He’d shut that down immediately, forbidding her to hang with them. She’d yelled at him, told him she hated him, and they’d had one of their biggest fights ever, but he didn’t care; he’d do anything to keep her from getting sucked in. He’d known heroin addicts, and the power of the drug surpassed everything. He was certain Chenoa was fighting it hard, and he prayed the drug wouldn’t lure her back.
His phone rang and he smiled when he saw Hawk’s name. “Hey,” he said.
“How’s it going with Chenoa?” Hawk asked.
“Okay. One day at a fucking time.” He took a gulp of coffee. “What’s up?”
“We got the confirmation that the fuckin’ Demon Riders are the supplier for smack in your county. Banger called this one. These sonsofbitches have gotta be stopped.”
“Fuck! I’ll call an emergency church, but I know the vote will be war.” Steel exhaled.
“We’ve been talking at church with the brothers, and the consensus was that the Demon Riders have been a pain in our ass ever since Dustin and Shack joined up with them. The agreement is that if you want help, the Insurgents are with you all the way.”
Warmth spread through him when he heard Hawk’s words. Brothers coming together to fight a common evil was what the brotherhood was all about. His ties with the Insurgents went way back, and those ties would never be broken. Loyalty for the brotherhood transcended clubs and locations. Insurgents and Night Rebels would ride together.
This is why I love this fucking life. Love, respect, and loyalty were what the outlaw’s world was all about.
“Thanks, brother,” he said.
“Call me back when you got the details nailed down. We’ll all go from Pinewood Springs.”
“Sounds good. I’ll be in touch.”
After his call with Hawk, he texted Paco and told him to let everyone know there’d be an emergency church at five o’clock that evening. He jumped out of the chair and went inside, calling Breanna.
“Hey, baby. Can you come over earlier tonight?”
“Yeah. What’s going on?”
“We got church, and I don’t wanna leave Chenoa alone in the house until I get back.”
“Is she doing okay?”
“She says yes, but I don’t think so. I don’t know if it’s school, living away from the rez, or what, but I got a bad feeling.”
“Do you think she’s using?” Breanna asked in a hushed tone.
“Not yet. I know she’s fighting it real hard, but… I don’t know.”
“Heroin is a powerful drug, and it’s a fucking hard one to conquer. I’m not saying it can’t be done, but it can be extremely difficult. Nicholas has been trying for years.” She paused a moment. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. I’m supposed to be positive, and here I am making your fears worse.”
“No worries. I know smack’s a ruthless motherfucker. Anyway, I want you to keep an eye on her. I know I don’t need to tell you, but don’t let any of her friends come over except for Josie and Michela.”
“Is something going on with the club?”
“Yeah.”
“Something dangerous?”
He laughed. “Everything we do is dangerous, baby.”
She giggled. “Okay, that was a stupid question. Is it about what’s going on with the drugs in Alina?”
�
��Babe, you know I can’t tell you. It’s club business.”
“All right. I’ll leave work a little early and come on over.”
* * *
Steel stood in front of the brothers, listening to them scream, curse, and pound their fists into anything they could find, even if it was another brother. After letting them blow off some steam, Steel slammed the gavel on the wooden block. “I’m gonna take it that we’re all in agreement for war?” Voices clamored and chairs were knocked over. Again he slammed the gavel down. “To comply with the bylaws, we gotta take a vote. All in favor of declaring war on the Demon Riders of Johnstown, Iowa, say ‘Aye.’”
A resounding “Aye” reverberated off the concrete walls. “Then it’s settled,” Paco said. “Steel’s gonna name the brothers who’ll go on this mission. The Insurgents are banding with us. We need some brothers here to protect the club and give the fuckin’ Skull Crushers a beat-down.”
“We’re gonna meet up with the Insurgents in Pinewood Springs. We’ll leave early in the morning. Diablo, Muerto, Sangre, Goldie, Chains, Army, Crow, Brutus, and Cueball will be coming with me. Since Paco’s the VP, he’ll stay behind and run things until we get back. For the brothers who are going with me to Pinewood Springs, we’ll leave at three in the morning, which should get us into Pinewood at about seven. No partying or heavy boozing, but fucking’s always good.”
Whistles and guffaws circled around the room.
“When do we leave for Johnstown?” Sangre asked.
Steel shrugged. “I’m gonna work out the details with Hawk and Banger when we get to Pinewood, but I’d say we’ll probably leave tomorrow night, rest up for a day, and then attack at night.” He wiped the sheen above his upper lip. “We need to get our ammo, guns, and other weapons ready. Obviously we’re taking the SUVs and pickups. Can’t have our cams announcing us.” He leaned against the wall, his thumbs hooked in his belt loops.
A solemnness fell over the members as they contemplated the enormity of the task ahead. Going to war was always a last resort for most MCs, and it wasn’t something the Night Rebels jumped into lightly, but their backs had been forced against the wall, and they had no intention of backing down. The brothers knew that some of the ones going may not come back alive, and that many may be wounded, but it was a consequence in their world. The threat of war was omnipresent, always lurking in the shadows, waiting to appear. Violence and uncertainty were as much a part of the outlaw world as were loyalty, love, and mutual trust.
STEEL: Night Rebels Motorcycle Club (Night Rebels MC Romance Book 1) Page 22