Steele: Into Your Heart (Carolina Bad Boys #3 (9 page)

But I didn’t let her know that.

At their funeral, we’d held Cat up. Boomer and I had sandwiched her between us. I’d never seen Boomer cry over them, but he looked at our folk’s photo every day. Sometimes I thought he’d had to deal with the worst of it, and he did it silently, stoically.

I’d manned up. Cat got clean. We’d taken over Chrome and Steele and made it our own. I’d always protected my sister, but she had Nick to do that now.

Shitlock slinked into the garage. Oh yeah. He still needed me. To be his friggin’ human pincushion when I tried to fall asleep and he kneaded his talon-sharp claws on my chest.

Maybe
I needed to stop growing a goddamn vagina.

I double-rubbed the headlights on my Harley, using elbow grease to make the glass shine.

Fuck me. When had I gotten all philosophical and shit? I needed to get laid.
Oh yeah.
I did that. With Ashe. Over and over again. My cock ached. My heart ached harder.

What happens at Bike Weeks stays at Bike Week?
Yeah, right.

****

I’d gone right back to work the next day at Chrome and Steele, the best way to keep my head clear and my hands occupied now that they weren’t occupied with mapping every square inch of Ashe’s sexy body.

The business was successful because we worked like demons to keep it running like a well-oiled machine. Not like Nick Love’s demons, though, because those were some scary broads. I knew from firsthand experience. Boomer and I kept the MC crew happy, and the club clean. That included the clubhouse, especially when Probie was on toilet duty.

I snickered as I bent over my laptop in my office. The dude continued to be unhappy with me. Instead of glaring at me while I’d done a walk-through of the clubhouse that was part of the Chrome and Steele compound, he’d turned his back and muttered under his breath. He knew if he mouthed off at me he was in danger of losing his chances at patching through. In fact, I’d probably think up some other devious torture for the no-name kid just because.

You needed to start out in the shit pile before you earned your way to the big boys table.

Retribution MC was relatively small, only thirty or so members. We were family-oriented and made sure everything was done above board. A lot of our members came to us through their sheer love of all things motorcycles and the thrill and freedom of the ride.

Some were lost souls, looking for a place to belong.

But just because we were a tight-knit group didn’t mean we didn’t like to hand out shit whenever we could, as often as we could.

Poor Probie.

I took care of most of the custom work ordered from Chrome and Steele. In fact, I could’ve made some of the parts for Nick’s Indian Chief if I’d liked him at that point. I bet those California companies had bamboozled the hell out of him.

I snickered again.

Fuck, I really was an evil bastard.

Boomer was the number cruncher with his business degree. Cat the accounts rep . . . me? I liked to work with my hands and get ’em dirty. A lot. But the work hadn’t helped at all during the week after Myrtle Beach. Ashe never reached out to contact me. Of course not. And I wasn’t desperate enough to track her down just to see her. She’d made her stand, and I’d let it go. For now.

Not seeing her for five days straight after practically spending five days straight between her legs made me itchy. Horny. Stir crazy. No amount of work thrown at me could get her off my mind.

So here I was a week later on Friday afternoon in my office Googling those fucking flowers from her tattoo.

Finally, bingo!

Tiger lilies. Yeah, that was what they were. I kept flicking through the pictures. Jesus Christ, next I’d be stalking the MPPD website and her Officer Ashe Kingston page if she had such a thing.

I wondered if she was on Facebook?

Just then Boomer flung open my door. I slammed the laptop shut with a slap of my hand.

He grinned. “Porn again?”

“Don’t need to watch porn after the week I had up in MB.”

“Oh yeah. How come you never finished telling me about that?” He leaned against my desk looking down at me.

Shit.
Way to put my foot in it.

Before I had to think my way out of the predicament, a loud crash came from down the hall. I jumped to my feet and followed Boomer out.

“What the hell was that?” he shouted.

“I think it came from Cat’s office.” Lucy met us in the hallway.

I rapped two knuckles on Cat’s door before heading in. She stood in the middle of the floor, her phone clutched to her chest. A vase of flowers lay shattered at her feet.

“Cat?” I strode to her. “You okay, sis?”

She shook her head, and then her eyes met mine. The icy blue shimmered with tears. “It’s Nick’s grandmother. She’s in the hospital. I have to go.”

She searched frantically for her bag, crushing glass fragments underfoot.

I clasped her elbow. “Want me to take you? You don’t look like you should be driving right now.”

“Yes. Yes. That’s a good idea.”

“Boomer?” I asked.

“Yeah. I’ll take care of stuff here. Call me later, all right?” His voice was gruff, and he grabbed Cat to him before we passed out of the office. “Be strong, sis. Okay?”

She nodded stiffly.

Outside I motioned to my Harley. “Don’t have the truck today. We’ll have to take your car.”

She tossed me the keys to her precious Dodge Rallye—the car that was wet dream material for any guy I’d ever met. Cat had never let me drive it. The fact she handed over her keys without question meant she was really cutting up inside.

The ride downtown strained with silence. I wasn’t about to break the tension with small talk. Cat was like Boomer—she wasn’t into shit-chat just to fill dead airspace. The damn complex of hospitals in downtown Charleston was a maze of buildings and parking garages. The last time I’d been here was when I’d ID’d our parents in the morgue.

So I wasn’t gonna think about that. Or little kids like Wyatt at Children’s Hospital undergoing cancer treatment. There was a dry click to my throat as I ushered Cat to the MUSC Health Heart & Vascular Center. She knocked tentatively on the door where Miss Myra Loveland’s name was displayed.

When Nick opened it, Cat fell into his arms. Man, they held each other so tight; that alone made my eyes get damp. I should’ve just dropped off Cat and left, but once he released my sister, Nick grabbed my hand and pumped it a few times before pulling us both into the room.

His grandmother lay pale and still on the bed, a million machines attached to her, beeping and bleeping at regular intervals.

“What happened?” Cat asked.

Nick sat in a chair and lowered his head to his hands. Cat crouched in front of him, kissing his fingers and pulling them away from his face.

“Congestive heart failure.”

“Oh God,” Cat gasped.

Seeing the old dame lying there like that and Cat and Nick so upset, I felt like I was intruding. Our grandparents were gone, and after Mom and Dad died there was just the three of us. Shit. I wiped quietly at my eyes.

A low hoarse laugh interrupted my maudlin moment.

“Oh look at ya. It ain’t a funeral yet.” Myra peered at the three of us. Amazingly, her eyes were alight with amusement.

Nick rushed to her bedside, but she batted him away with an impish grin. “I see enough of you ever’ week. Tell me who that young man over there is?” She pointed a finger at me.

Cat went over and placed her hand on Miss Myra’s weathered cheek. “That’s my brother Brodie. He brought me down here.”

“Oh, sugar. You didn’t have to come runnin’ all the way downtown.”

I nearly snorted.
All the way downtown
was a mere ten-minute drive.

“But I sure am glad you brought Brodie with you.
Mm hmm.
These hospital orderlies could learn a thing or two from him.” Her grin broadened. “Cat’s brother? Well, ain’t you handsome despite all the jewelry. I think I might need to get me some of them fancy rings. What you think, Nick?”

Just as she finished her wisecracking, a racking cough overtook her. Nick helped her sit up and rubbed her back where the long black and white braid of her hair lay.

When she stopped, he made her drink some water from a straw she glared at.

“As soon as they let you out, you’re moving in with us.”

She glared at him next. “Oh shush now. No such thing is gonna happen. I’m not intrudin’ on your honeymoon period.”

“We’re not married yet.”

“Exactly. Trust me, the newlywed thing won’t last long after you are.” She chuckled until she became breathless again. “This damn heart.” She lay back with Nick’s help. “Ain’t good for nothin’ but lovin’. Guess that’s why we’re called Lovelands, eh my boy?” She peered up at Nick, who looked like he’d been hauled behind a Mac truck for a few thousand miles. She patted his cheek with her gnarled hand. “Yessir. That’s what we’re good at. That’s why you got Cat now.”

My throat did an up and down bob. Cat ducked her head and wiped her eyes.

Nick stood from the bed and paced. “I’m for damn sure not sending you to an old folks home, if that’s what you think.”

She opened her mouth and was promptly cut off.

“Fine. You’re going home. To your own house. I’m hiring a caretaker.” Nick folded his arms over his chest.

“Nick, my boy—”

“No, ma’am. I’m sorry, but this time you’ll listen to me. Don’t even start about money or thinking you’re a nuisance to me.” Kneeling next her bed, he grabbed her hand. He lowered his voice. “You’re my mimi and I’ll do anything for you.”

“Oh, Nicky. Always such a good boy. I’m so glad you’ve got Cat to take care of you after I’m gone. Ain’t gonna let you get away with any shenanigans, are you my, girl?” Myra opened her arms for Cat. “You ain’t given me any sugar yet. Gimme a hug.”

“I think I’ll head out now, if that’s okay?” All three of them looked over at me. “Uh, I’m real sorry about this, Miss Myra.”

Her slow smile seemed to shine from the inside. “Young man, you got nothin’ to be sorry about. Just make sure to live your life as well as I have.”

I nodded briskly because that was all I was capable of at the moment, and Nick said, “Let me walk you out.”

I gave Cat a quick kiss on her forehead.

In the hall with Nick I asked, “You two gonna be okay?”

He pinched his eyes and his fingers came away wet. “Yeah.”

“Listen. Want me to run Cat home for you?”

“Nah. We’ll go soon. Thanks for bringing her down.”

“You got it.” We both knew how hard it was losing the people you loved. His brother had OD’d years ago, something that almost drove him and my sis apart before bringing them back together stronger than ever. “You need anything, you let me know, okay?”

“You and Boomer just keep an eye on Cat at work for me? She and Mimi have gotten real close.”

“Don’t even have to ask.”

We exchanged a hard hug.

“You guys are good brothers,” he said.

“She makes it easy.” I managed to say the words with a straight face.

“Bullshit.”

We both cracked up a bit.

When I got back to Chrome and Steele, the doors were locked, the place closed down for the night. Good. I didn’t feel like working. Lights blared from the Retribution clubhouse next door.

Real good
.

Inside, rock music piped out from the speakers, more muted than usual. Instead of racking up the balls on the pool tables, small groups of MC guys and girls from the First Ladies sat at tables, talking quietly.

Boomer must’ve told them about Miss Myra. The subdued atmosphere was a show of respect for a great lady even if none of us knew her all that well.

Leta loitered at one end of the bar in a skirt practically up to her ass crack and a top that skimmed almost down to her nipples. I stayed at the opposite side with my eyes averted. All I wanted was some serious silence and a drink. Oh, and Ashe.

Boomer sidled beside me, holding up two fingers to Probie who manned the bar. “How’s Old Miss?”

“Doesn’t look good. Don’t know how much time she has left.”

For once, Probie didn’t have anything to say as he set two beers and two shots in front of Boom and me. We downed our shots first. Tequila. Nice burn. Not enough to take the pain away.

“Do you think Cat’s gonna be okay?” Boomer asked.

“She’s survived worse, right?”

Our beer bottles met with a sad clank.

We’d all survived worse.

****

Sis and Nick got home okay the night before, and Nick was busy making new arrangements for his grandmother.

It was Saturday. I never worked on the weekends. Saturday and Sunday were for riding. As long as I was on my bike, it didn’t matter where I went. Life was too short to work twenty-four/seven as I’d just been reminded once again.