An embarrassment. Like I am to my father.
“Fuck you, Steven Vanderbilt.”
I have the nerve to flip him off before I whirl around, clutching my sweater tight around me. I haven’t found my panties, and I don’t know where my shoes are, but I don’t need them. I don’t have a bag either, no phone and no money. It’s a long walk back to my parents’ house, but it’s one I’ll have to make.
“First of all, I plan on doing that again, when you calm down and get over your entitled tantrums. Second, one, two, eight, nine,” Steel’s amused voice drifts out into the hall as I tug the door open, every step crushing me further. “It’s the code for the gate. You won’t get past without it.”
My hands hit the solid metal door at the end of the hall, and when I burst out into the night, the cool air hits me, rises up around me like freedom.
Except I am not free. I will never be free again.
Chapter Fifteen
Steel
It’s been five days since I’d had Leah under me, since I’d felt her mouth on mine and her breath break apart when I pushed in deep. Five days since she stormed out of the clubhouse cursing me and wishing she’d never met me.
God, I love her fire.
It wasn’t just the sex. But fuck me, I can still feel the way she’d trembled, the way she’d moaned, and her pussy gripped my cock like it didn’t want to let go.
I’d told her no after. I felt like a fucking bastard. I wasn’t lying, Christmas is for my daughter. But the main problem was I hadn’t figured out how we were gonna do this. I wanted her for my queen. She was born to be at my side. But wanting Leah Harris and having her accepted in my world were two different things. Sure I’m Prez and what I say goes, but my men respect me, and taking an enemy’s daughter into my bed was the best damn way of losing that.
One time. That was all it took.
Addictive didn’t even cover it. Leah was like the first drag of a cigarette after you’d gone too long without one. Like whiskey when you’d promised yourself you were done. I didn’t want a little. I didn’t want reasonable. I wanted her until she stopped being a thought I had to fight.
And that was the problem.
My world wasn’t gentle. My world didn’t do soft endings. It did consequences. It did blood on knuckles and bodies in ditches and men looking you in the eye while they lied.
Leah had to understand that if she was gonna be anywhere near me—if she was gonna be anywhere near all of it.
Still… I’d been an asshole.
I roll my shoulders and stare at the room we hold church in. It isn’t quiet. It’s the largest room in the clubhouse with a scarred table, worn chairs, and a huge map on the wall showing Steel Riders territory, just in case anyone forgets what we do it for.
I sit at the head of the table. Edge is at my right, my VP as steady as stone. Snake is sitting with his head in his hands and a mug of too strong coffee in front of him. I’d called church unexpectedly, and half of my men are still trying to shake off last night’s excesses. Cipher is hunched over a laptop that never leaves his hands, his eyes flicking between code and the room. Pops looks bright eyed and fucking bushy-tailed, though at nearing sixty he’s already done most of his partying. Brick and Shadow lean back, the club enforcers on opposite sides like they’re bookends made of violence. Tracker has that quiet hunter look, always watching. Titan takes up too much chair, too much space, too much of everything, his arms crossed like a wall. They’re all waiting to see why I’d called the meeting so suddenly. With what’s been happening in our town they expect the worst.
And yeah, even though Leah Harris is on my mind, she isn’t the main reason I called church. It’s her fucking father.
“Alright,” I say, my voice carrying without me needing to push it. The room settles. “Church.”
Chairs creak. I wait until everyone settles down. When you run a club, you learn real quick the difference between men listening and men hearing.
“We got problems,” I start. “Same ones, just closer.”
Edge’s gaze cuts to me, a quick check-in. He already knows. He’s been on my ass for days about Harris, about the way the man is moving through Helena like it belongs to him. Which technically speaking, as mayor, it does. Donovan Harris has money, lawyers, and connections in Jacksonville. The kind of reach that doesn’t need a gun to ruin you. Paper can be a weapon if you know where to aim it. He’s already targeted some of the brothers and people associated with the club. I’d heard on the grapevine he’d been sniffing around The Canteen, and I didn’t like it one bit.
Snake flips his ledger open. “Town council meeting got moved up,” he says. “Harris pushed for it.”
“Of course he did,” Pops mutters into his coffee. “That man’s like mold. Shows up where you don’t want him and spreads.”
Cipher doesn’t look up from his screen. “He’s made deposits into five accounts recently. Three shell corps, two nonprofits. All tied back to the same law office in Jacksonville.”
“Clean?” Shadow asks.
Brick’s mouth twitches. “He’s laundering his own bullshit to make it look pretty.”
