Steele reached out and caught the front of Breezy’s jacket, jerking her back to him so hard she nearly stumbled into him. She looked up, blinking, and he took her mouth. He didn’t start gentle. He was rough. Demanding. Hot as hell. He ended gently, pulling her close to him, his mouth moving over hers, his tongue stroking love into her mouth until she wanted to cry because, even now, she felt that. Even now when he had to become the killer, she felt his love surrounding her.
She’d told him once that she loved him, and he’d shut down. She watched his expression go from happiness to pure ice, to the mask. He had turned away from her, and she’d never repeated the sentiment—and she had no intention of making that mistake again. He was never going to tell her, never going to say it aloud, but it didn’t matter because she felt love in his every touch or kiss.
She kissed him back, trying to convey the fact that she was with him every step of the way. She might not be able to do the things necessary to get their son back, so she was doubly grateful that he could. He lifted his head and a shiver went down her spine. He had that look again, the cold, deadly one. She cupped the side of his jaw for a brief moment and then turned to go out with Lana.
“Thank you,” Lana whispered under her breath as she shortened her steps to walk beside Breezy. “He needed you to understand. He would say it didn’t matter, but you’re the one person whose opinion of him does matter.”
“I’m ashamed I can’t do it myself and that he has to be alone.”
“He’s not alone, Bree.” Lana handed her the helmet. “He’s got all of us. We’re like him. We can do whatever needs to be done. We’ve only got you, Anya and Blythe who can’t. We’re happy we have you. We need you. All three of you. We’re hoping you pull us a little more into the light.”
Breezy had never thought of it that way. “Is that what you think I do for Steele?”
Lana swung onto the bike. It was Ink’s. No Sword would ever trust his bike to a woman, not even his old lady, and Lana was not Ink’s woman. Lana had her own bike, but because they knew they would have times when they needed extra hands, she had opted to leave hers at home. It was obvious that Lana and Alena were an integral part of Torpedo Ink.
“I know you do that for him. He was desolate without you. Steele’s a strong man and we all rely on him. It wasn’t the same after you were gone.”
Breezy wrapped her arms around Lana and they were moving fast down the road, straight toward the block where her apartment was. Her heart began to pound. She had learned some self-defense from Steele, but clearly it hadn’t done any good when her father and brother broke in. She needed to be more of an asset in situations like this one.
Her breath left in a rush. What was she thinking? More like this? She couldn’t consider living the club life again. What kind of responsible mother would that make her? She was in this situation because she’d been part of a club. It was Torpedo Ink, another club, helping to get Zane back. Torpedo Ink had contacted yet another club in New Mexico, to aid them with a place where prisoners were taken to interrogate them.
Before they turned onto Breezy’s block, Lana turned onto the street that ran parallel. She drove right into a driveway and then turned around and went back out onto the street. Between the houses, they could see Breezy’s building.
Bree watched as Master sauntered up the broken, uneven walkway to the door of her apartment. The door had chipped paint, and all around the other apartments on the lower story, ones like hers that had a semblance of a front yard, litter and needles and sometimes dirty condoms were thrown around. Drug deals were common right out in front on the sidewalk. She wanted to groan and hide her face, she was so ashamed.
Master opened the door with the key she’d given him, looked carefully around and disappeared inside.
“What if they’re watching and someone goes in the back way?” Breezy asked, anxiety beating at her. She didn’t want anything to happen to Master. She should have told Steele the records and photographs weren’t worth anyone’s life. Oh. Wait. She had. He hadn’t listened. That had evidently been one of those times when he made the rules.
There was silence. It stretched out for minutes, each second ticking away so slowly she felt the pull on her nerves, but like Lana, she remained still. Lana had slipped off the bike and helped her off, indicating to her to remove the helmet. She kept her eyes glued to the apartment, looking between the buildings to see. A man emerged between two structures to cross the street, angling toward Bree’s apartment, his hands in his pockets. He glanced up and down the lane.
Lana had parked the bike in the shadows, and Breezy knew not to move or they’d draw the sentry’s eye in spite of the fact that they were a distance away and one street over. The newcomer was wearing Swords colors. She held her breath. He turned and looked to his left, letting out a low whistle.
The streetlights had long ago been smashed and no one had bothered to replace them, but it didn’t matter. She recognized him. The Swords had given him the name Bruiser, not because he liked to fight but because he bruised easily and was very clumsy. His closest friend was Dart, a man who was very skilled with a dart and often used them in fights. She would bet her last dollar that Dart was there right now, circling around behind the house to go in from the back.
Lana didn’t move, nor did she say a word, so Bree kept silent as well. Lana appeared completely unconcerned by the fact that Bruiser was entering the front door and at the same moment, most likely, Dart was going through the back, trapping Master between them.
A few minutes later Lana touched her ear where she wore a tiny radio and then smirked. “Master took them both out easily. He’s called for the truck.”
Seconds later, an old beat-up truck with a deep bed pulled up in front of the apartments. It fit right in with the dilapidated building and the mostly broken-down cars lining the dirty street. Breezy knew the engine in that truck was in top condition and ran like a dream. Transporter slid out from behind the steering wheel and sauntered up to the walkway as if he owned the entire building. A few minutes later, he came out with Master, Dart between them. Dart looked more drunk than hurt. They deposited him in the back of the truck and they weren’t gentle about it. Bruiser was next. Breezy winced when the man hit the bed of the truck hard enough that it made noise.
Transporter didn’t seem to mind. He jumped up into the bed, bent over and worked for a few minutes, presumably to secure the two men. He began tossing things on top of them. Old, torn boxes and other rubbish that had been in the back of the truck. He leapt out when he was satisfied and saluted Lana and then got into the cab. They waited for a minute.
“Preacher’s given the all clear,” Lana said aloud. She glanced at Breezy. “He’s lying up on the roof across the street with a rifle. He would have killed the Swords to get the boys out. They were safe, Bree.”
Breezy let out her breath. “I don’t think I have nerves of steel the way all of you do,” she admitted. “And you can all go for hours
, days. I’m exhausted and need to sleep; I know I can’t because time is important. I wish I was more like all of you.”
“No, you don’t,” Lana said. “Never wish for that, Bree. You’re perfect the way you are. We don’t need more of us. We’re . . . flawed. Every single one of us. There’s no living on our own. We don’t know the first thing about how to live with society’s bullshit rules. Blythe works with us all the time, but we forget them. There are too many rules and they seem so unnecessary.”
The two of them walked toward the apartment building. “Like what?”
“Clothes. People make such a big deal about clothes. What others wear or don’t wear. Are they designer? Supposedly your clothes say things about you. It’s all bullshit. I don’t even feel good in clothes, they hurt my skin. And you have to know if a beach is swimsuit optional. You have to know if it’s topless or not topless. What’s the big deal?”
“Steele said you wanted to open a clothing store.”
“If we have to wear clothes, I’d like to choose what I’m going to wear. People are so hung up on what their neighbor is wearing or not wearing, they aren’t paying any attention to their own lives.”
Breezy laughed. “That makes sense.”
“And Blythe says people are really hung up about sex. Are they? Are you? She says they have so many inhibitions that sometimes they can’t even enjoy it.” Lana opened the door to the apartment.
It was one of those moments, after seeing Steele’s house, that Breezy worried that Lana would judge her for living in a really bad place. She always kept it neat, but right now, her things were smashed and broken. It was obvious to her that the two Swords members had been using her apartment to stay in while they waited for her, or someone else, to return.
“I’m not, no, but that’s because I understand Steele and his need to have all of you protecting us. He feels vulnerable, doesn’t he?”
Lana nodded. “It’s better if we’re close. No one can hurt us, or the one we’re with. It’s just so much safer and we can relax.” She shrugged. “I guess others don’t feel vulnerable. Blythe says that to most people, having sex is very intimate, an expression of love between two people, and adding others around takes away from that, which I don’t understand at all.”