Steel My Heart (12 page)

"That always bugged me too." J.'s voice was a low rumble over my shoulder.

I jumped back, hastily blinking and wiping my eyes. He was standing in the doorway, watching me for I don't know how long. His shirt was off and the glint of droplets on his chest told me he had splashed water on his face. In his hand he held a tall clear glass of water, condensation already beading on the side. He extended it to me without a word.

I slid forward on the cot, trying to compose myself. Yanking down my shirt and adjusting my waistband helped me find some of the dignity I had lost.

"Thank you," I replied, and I was grateful that my voice sounded much more composed than my thoughts did.

He dropped to a crouch in front of me, his muscular thighs supporting him in a way that made me think of a ballet dancer. "That better?" he asked, placing his hands gently on my knees.

I took another sip to buy myself time. How could I tell him what Robert had done? He would think I was crazy for being with a man like that in the first place. Hell, I was beginning to believe that myself. All the hurt, all the betrayal, it had all led directly to last night, but I had been too stupid and too deluded to notice.

I hated myself.

"Yes, thank you." The lies were coming back. I didn't want them to, but they were so much easier than telling the truth.

He paused, searching my face, ready to speak some more. He had to know, it was written all over his face. The anger, the disgust, the trembling impotent rage were all feelings I recognized in myself. I squeezed my fists into the bed sheet, ready for his questions, ready to be picked apart. I should have fought harder. I should have run a long time ago, these were all things I knew to be true. I was ready to it hear from his lips. Ready to hear condemnation that matched that in my own head.

Instead he nodded. Slowly and with all the understanding in the world. Silently he reached for my hand, waiting for me to take it. When I finally did, he lifted me gently to my feet and tugged my shirt down over my stomach. Brushing the barest of kisses across my forehead, he then spoke in my ear. "When you're ready to say it, I'm ready to hear it."

The tears that sprang to my eyes were a completely different kind of sadness. I nodded and bit my lip.

He nodded again, the stepped back. Suddenly his voice boomed out, completely changed, "So I betcha didn't know you were showing up for a party!" he called out for the benefit of anyone who may have been listening.

"Party?" This was not what I had expected at all.

"Yeah we got another MC rolling through town on their way to a gathering up in Maine." The grin was starting to creep back into his voice, and with that came the reappearance of his dimples. I couldn't help but smile back.

He pulled his shirt on over his head as he continued speaking. "They're going to come by. See if we get along. It's been too long that we've been a solitary club." He pulled his shirt down and my heart sank to loose sight of those ridiculous abs. His voice rose higher and took on a note of false jocularity. "Teach thinks it's time we branched out, belonged to something bigger, that sort of thing."

I was fascinated. "And what do you think?"

He shook his head and dropped his voice lower. "I like things the way they are. The less people in your world, the less they can hurt you, know what I mean?"

I nodded emphatically. "Yes I know exactly what you mean."

"But this club is a democracy. One man, one vote. My side lost." He chuckled grimly. "Mainly ‘cause I was the only one on it."

"So what now?"

He took my hand and made for the door. "Time to meet the boys."

Chapter 24

Emmy

"What the
shit
is this?"

Case looked a whole lot different in the daytime, and a whole lot better with his shirt off. His tanned torso glistened with sweat in the noonday sun. He knocked back the rest of his can of Yuengling and swore again.

"Hang on Emmy," J. muttered. "Case, what's the problem?" he called across the garage. I followed a few steps behind, squinting in the ferocious light.

For his answer, Case just pointed accusingly at the pile of wobbling yellowed magazines. I looked more closely and wished I hadn't.

J. squinted at the pile of paper. "Well, that appears to be porn, Case. What's the matter, you offended? Want me to call your priest?"

"Fuck off," Case rumbled and poked the pile with his boot. "How old is this shit? Why do we have it?"

"Judging from the hairiness, I'd say it's from the seventies." I giggled.

J. and Case both snapped their heads to look at me. Case's mouth was a perfect 'O' of shock.

"Emmy, right?" he nodded. "I'd shake your hand, but I touched it." He poked the pile gingerly with his boot. "And it was sticky."

I wrinkled my nose. "Yeah, thanks, don't."

J. crouched down appraisingly. "I'd say this would be worth something, if it were in, er, better condition."

"Teach tells us to clean up the place and doesn't warn us about the pile of full-bush porno mags in the corner?" Case wiped his hands repeatedly on his jeans. "Jesus, I think I caught chlamydia just standing here."

A heavy tread on the floor made us all turn. The older man J. had called MacDougal stood there, arms folded, his face a stony grimace. Without a word, he stepped to the pile and threw a stained bed sheet over the top. "Leave it," he grumbled, voice hoarse with disuse. Then he stalked away to the front of the store.

J. looked at Case. Case snorted and socked J. in the arm, then the two of them burst out into peals of laughter that echoed off of the metal ceiling. "Mac, you perverted old fuck!" Case called to the retreating man.

"There's porn on the internet, dude!" J. called. "Whole videos, for free!" He turned to me. "Whoops, sorry Em."

"If he likes the hairy stuff, he's gonna hate Internet porn," Case noted.

J. punched him in the arm. "Mixed company, asshole."

I laughed in delight. "I haven't been around people just shooting the shit and having a good time in a long time," I declared. "Please. Pretend I'm not even here."

Case looked at me pointedly, up and down. "Gonna be hard for me to do that," he said seriously, his eyes fixed on my cleavage.

J. punched him again. "How about you try
not
being an asshole for once?"

"Casey? Jeremiah? You gentlemen back there?" I turned to the front of the store, surprised to hear a female voice cut through their brotherly banter. I looked back and had to laugh at the sight of them both standing straighter.

"Jeremiah?" I asked.

J. looked down. "Jeremiah Johnson. My sister's name is Janelle Johnson. My mother only knew one letter, apparently."

"You have a sister?"

"Long story," he waved his hand and I bit back my questions to look at Case.

"Your name is Casey?" I looked at him, huge and bearded. He looked like an illustration of the Viking conquerors. Definitely not a 'Casey.'

"Ugh, I know," he grumbled petulantly. "We're back here Mallory!" he called to the front.

"Could you gentlemen help me?" came the call. She sounded older, and her voice dripped with the authority of the classroom. J. and Case moved with the nervousness of schoolboys, and I followed behind in wonder.

She was indeed an older woman, though I would have put her age anywhere between forty and seventy. Her cocoa skin was unlined, and her eyes were clear and sharp. Only her waist length dreadlocks gave her away, the dark coils shot through with silver. She wore riding leathers without the patches of the rest of the club, and a helmet was tucked under her arm. Her voice had made me think she was a large woman, but upon reaching the front of the store, I saw just how tiny she was. Her head barely reached J.'s shoulder. She could have fit neatly under my chin.

When she saw me emerge from behind J., her eyes widened. Setting her helmet down on the counter, she extended her hand. "Hello dear, I'm Mallory."

Her forthrightness took me aback. "Uh, hi. I'm Emmy. Emilia. Call me Emmy," I stammered, pumping her hand up and down like an idiot.

"She's with me," J. interjected.

"On you?" Mallory asked pointedly.

"On me," J. nodded firmly.

Once again I was left wondering about that exchange, but had no time to ponder. Mallory clapped her hands. "Is this place clean?"

"Clean as it's going to get, Mal," Case replied.

She tilted her head at him. "Clean?" she repeated.

Case nodded. "We're good."

I shot J. a questioning look, but he shook his head.

"Okay," she clapped her hands. "Where're the rest of the guys?"

"Only Mac is here right now. Crash'll probably show up right beforehand." Case shook his head incredulously. "He volunteered to 'bring girls.' God help us."

I stifled a laugh, but Mallory barely reacted. "Fine, then it's the five of us. Liquor and beer are out in the pickup. Food's in the front seat."

"Mac!" J. hollered back into the garage. "Mal needs you." The older man appeared in the doorway immediately. "How come you never come that fast when I call you?" J. grumbled. Mac just shot him a withering look and stalked out the front door.

I followed the group like a little lost puppy, unsure of my role until Mallory plopped a box filled with red Solo cups in my arms. "Got that, Emmy?"

"Uh, yeah of course." I shifted the burden in my arms. It was light, but unwieldy.

J. rounded the pickup with a box full of clinking liquor bottles in his arms. "Follow me," he called.

I scurried after him, a smile threatening to overtake me. I wasn't used to being treated like a competent adult. Robert would scoff at something so simple as me attempting to lift a box. I had forgotten I was capable.

A tiny little bud of pride bloomed in my chest.

"Watch your step," J. called over his shoulder, and I looked down just in time to step over the threshold into the garage. "Just stick that on the table," he grunted, lifting the heavy liquor bottles onto the shelf in the kitchenette.

I plopped my burden down, suddenly eager to be useful again. "You want me to take the plastic off?"

He grinned at me for a moment before replying. "What?" I asked.

"When you woke up this morning, did you think you'd be getting ready for a biker party in the afternoon?"

I swallowed, remembering my thoughts this morning. "It's honestly the best outcome I could hope for," I said, hoping my tone was lighter than my words.

The way he looked at me made me feel bold. "So, 'on you.' What's that?"

He looked at the floor. "Heh, I was wondering if you'd notice that."

"Yeah, sounds kinda ominous."

"It's not," he answered hurriedly. "It means, well, I vouch for you. You're my responsibility. I say you're okay, and am held to my word."

I leaned against the table, holding tightly. If I didn't I was afraid I would float away. Feeling like my smile would break my face open, I struggled to find the words. I finally settled on, "Thank you."

He bent down and brushed a kiss across my lips. "I'm glad you're here," he whispered.

Chapter 25

J.

He heard the approaching riders before he saw them. The armada of motorcycles first passed overhead on 95.

"What exit did you tell them to take?" J. asked Teach.

They were standing out in the recently cleaned parking area. It had always been way too big for their needs. Maybe Teach was right. They needed more allies. More brothers. It wasn't good to go it alone in this world.

J. made a mental note to go to his sister's tomorrow.

"Thought I told them to come up the Vine and get off at Independence Hall," Teach mused. "Now they're gonna have to come down from the Aramingo Ave. exit."

"That's going to suck," J. agreed. He felt a pain in his palm. Looking down at his hands, he saw they were clenched so tightly his fingernails were digging into his palm. Very deliberately he forced them back open again. "Are you sure about this, Teach?" he heard himself say.

Teach looked at him. "It's a risk, I realize that." He turned to the clubhouse garage and surveyed the grounds with a critical eye. "I honestly wonder why you, Casey, and Ben joined up in the first place. The Sons of Steel were just a few old guys lying around drinking and reminiscing about the old days until you boys showed up."

J. looked at the broken pavement under his feet. "Shut up with that," he growled, emotions making him sound angrier than he felt. "After what you did for me? You saved my fucking life, Teach. I was hell-bent on getting myself killed or worse until you came into my life. And I know Case and Crash both feel the same. Mac was the only man in Case's neighborhood who cared enough to see he was gettin' pounded on daily. And Doctor D, well, we know where Crash would be if the Doc hadn't put himself out there and waived his fees. That accident...." J. inhaled. "We don't have a connection like that with these guys from Richmond. They don't give a shit about us as people, they just want more bodies in their arsenal."

The old man set his lips grimly. "I hear you. Nothing is final. But please think about this." He gestured to the front step where Emmy sat with Mallory. Both of their heads were down and their expressions were serious. "That girl over there, the one that you are so taken with? She's got no one behind her, I heard her say as much. Yeah we've got each other's backs, but how much is enough?" He shook his head, his dreads swinging across his chest. "There's strength in numbers, J. There's merit is belonging to something bigger than yourself."

The approaching roar robbed J. of his ability to respond. Not that he would know what to say anyway. Everything in him wanted to trust that the old man was infallible. But the nagging feeling that this was a mistake would not go away. He unclenched his fists for the second time and followed his mentor.

One by one, the Storm Riders of Richmond swung into the lot, moving with precise, military precision. J. counted twenty-three bikers, every single one of them as white as Case and Emmy. He thought he saw a few of the men in the back do a double-take when they saw him, but he hoped he was mistaken.

The lead rider stepped off of his tricked out chopper and strode towards Teach. He was at least six inches taller and a hundred pounds heavier than the old man. But Teach extended his hand with the same quiet authority and raised his voice over the noise of the bikes.

"Welcome to Philly, Des! Was it a good ride?"

Case shuffled over to J. The last rider parked his bike and killed the engine, leaving a deafening silence.

"I ran a check on that guy," he whispered to J. "Desmond Falwell, president of the chapter." He chuckled darkly. "You and him could swap prison stories, though I think he's got a few more."

Desmond took Teach's hand just above the wrist and the two men clasped forearms. "Great weather and no hassles until we got into the city here. Do y'all not believe in marking your exits in the north?"

"We heard you overhead. Sorry about the confusion," Teach replied mildly. J. looked down and saw his fists were clenched again.

The big man regarded Teach for a heartbeat as if he wanted to say more. Then he stood up straighter. "Well we appreciate the hospitality," he said stiffly.

Teach opened his arms wide. "Make yourselves at home, boys," he called to the waiting riders.

"Let's fuckin' party!" Crash yelled, bounding up the steps and landing stiffly on his bad leg. The Storm Riders swarmed into the clubhouse, pressing though the store, knocking equipment from the shelves, shoving and cursing their way towards the liquor. J. scanned the crowd, searching for Emmy's bright platinum head but couldn't find her anywhere.