When six o’clock rolled around, Chenoa came up to Steel and leaned against him. He put his arm around her shoulders and kissed the top of her head.
“Dad, why don’t you call Breanna and we can go out to eat. I’m craving Mexican food real bad.”
“Sure. I’ll see if she can come.”I forgot to send her an apology. Fuck.“I’ll go outside and give her a call. It’s quieter.” He went behind the clubhouse, plugged in her number, and waited for her to answer. She didn’t. A frown crossed his forehead, making his fine lines deepen. He decided he’d send her a text in case she was in a meeting. It seemed that she was always in a meeting with either the special agents, the department, her coworkers, or clients. He’d jump out of his skin if he had her job.
Steel:Hey. Chenoa & I r going for Mexican. Want to join us? 7 or 7:30?
No answer.She’s pissed.But a part of him was too. The truth was she wasn’t Chenoa’s mother, and he didn’t feel like she had a right to tell him what he could or couldn’t do with her.She was only thinking of you. The damn department doesn’t want Chenoa around the club. She was only scared they’d find out.That was fair. Maybe he was being unreasonable.
Steel:I don’t want u to think I don’t care what u think. I may have said some shit I didn’t mean.
Again, no answer.
He jutted out his jaw.If that’s the way you wanna play it, baby, that’s fine with me.He walked back to the clubhouse and went over to Chenoa. “Looks like Breanna can’t make it, so it’s just gonna be the two of us.”
“That’s cool. Maybe we can go earlier. I’m starving.”
He laughed. “We can go now.” She leapt up and went over to the brothers to say her goodbyes. When they went outside, he looked at her. “Jalisco’s Restaurant?” She nodded enthusiastically and they left the clubhouse, his arm around her shoulders, tightly tucking her to him.
During dinner he kept glancing at his phone, expecting a text from Breanna, but he didn’t hear anything from her. After paying the check, he and Chenoa headed for his Harley. Before he turned on the ignition, he looked over his shoulder. “I wanna stop by Breanna’s. You down for that?”
“Yeah. That’s fine. I wanted to show her the new lip gloss I got.”
When they arrived at her house, he saw her car in the driveway. His muscles tightened as they went up the walk. He had to remember to not blow his stack and make the situation worse, no matter what happened. He rang the doorbell.
After a few minutes, she opened the door. Her hair fell around her like a halo, and she looked killer in her T-shirt and shorts. She raised her brows and opened the screen door. “Hi, Chenoa. How are you?”
Steel ground his teeth.
“Hi. Dad and I just finished dinner. We went to Jalisco’s and it was so good. I want to show you this real cool lip gloss I ordered online.”
Breanna smiled. “Come on in.” She turned and he and Chenoa entered her house. “Do you want something to drink?” She looked at Chenoa only.
“I’ll have a Coke, if you have it.” Chenoa glanced at Steel. “Do you want anything, Dad?”
He shook his head as he clenched his fists, struggling for control.No one fucking ignores me.He stood near the front door with his arms crossed over his chest as Breanna placed a can of Coke in front of Chenoa and then sat down next to her, gushing about how beautiful the color of her new lip gloss was.
This is fucking bullshit.
“Remember you promised to show me your new kit of eyeshadows for the smoky eye look?” Chenoa asked as she picked up her drink.
“I forgot. I’ll go get them.” Breanna rose from the couch and went to her bedroom.
Steel followed her with narrowed eyes. “Chill for a few, okay, sunshine?”
Chenoa nodded and picked up the remote control from the coffee table.
He went into Breanna’s room and closed the door.
She gasped when she came out of the bathroom holding a red oblong box. “You startled me,” she muttered as she brushed past him.
He gripped her arm and yanked her to him. “What the fuck?” he gritted.
“Let go of me.” She tried to pull away, but he only held on tighter.
“You don’t fucking treat me like you did, woman. That’s bullshit. If you’re pissed at me, you fucking talk to me. Youneverdisrespect me. Ever.” His voice was deep, gravelly.
“You’re hurting me,” she said. He let go of her arm. “So you want me to respect you, but it’s okay if you don’t do the same to me? Sounds like the typical biker double standard my dad was famous for.” She lifted her chin in defiance.
