Steel My Heart Read online

  She punched him in the arm. Hard.

  J. woke up cursing. "Goddamnit, what the hell?" he demanded, rubbing his sore arm.

  Case looked alarmed. "I barely touched you, you pussy. You were freaking me out with all those noises you were making in your sleep." He looked down at the remnants of the dream still standing proudly in J.'s boxers and grinned pointedly.

  J. grabbed his pillow and jammed it into his lap, wincing all the while. His arm was surprisingly sore. He rubbed the bruise quickly, but Case saw everything. "What'd you do to yourself?"

  J. debated. Bringing women into the clubhouse was a delicate tightrope. He sucked in his breath, hoping he could trust his best friend not to ruin it. "The girl from the bar. Saw her again yesterday."

  Case's blond eyebrows shot up so high they nearly disappeared into his hairline. "The chick with the great rack? Nice!" He looked at J.'s arm again. "Why'd she hit you? Dang, that's an ugly color."

  J. chuckled. "I told her to. I was, ah, teaching her how to fight."

  Case snorted, then looked surprised. "Oh you're serious? What's a little blond princess need to fight for?"

  "To fend off assholes like you." J. felt a rush of defensiveness. He stood up from his bunk, still clutching the pillow to his groin, and stalked over to his cubby. Grabbing his shower pack, he turned towards the communal showers.

  "The hell got into you? I was just messing around." Case looked wounded and J. felt sudden remorse.

  "Sorry man. It's just, she's not a princess like we thought. She got mixed up in some shit that's turning out real bad." He thought for a minute. "I'm actually worried for her."

  "Wow," Case whistled softly. "She's really got a hold of you. You guys even bang yet?"

  J. laughed at his friend's ability to get to the point. "Haven't even banged yet," he echoed sarcastically.

  All the mocking went out of Case's eyes. "Then she's something real. Got it. You tell me if you need backup." He extended his hand.

  J. shifted the pillow into his left hand and grabbed his brother's hand with the right. "Thank you, you know I will."

  Case held his gaze seriously for as long as he could, then smirked and started laughing. "I can't hold your hand when you've got a boner, man. I love you and all, but that's where I draw the line."

  "Aw fuck you, you're jealous and you know it."

  "Saw you in the shower once. Really fucking wish I hadn't," Case grimaced and J. laughed loudly.

  "That you Johnson?" Teach's voice floated from the front office.

  "Yeah Teach, I'm up."

  "How'd the delivery go?" The old man appeared in the doorway, a mug of steaming coffee in hand. J. could smell the whiskey he'd added and smiled.

  "The guy was happy. Tipped me pretty well."

  "And then you had yourself a nice day off I hope?"

  "He got punched by a chick and he liked it," Case interjected. "J.'s got a new old lady." He laughed and ducked out of the way of J.'s smack.

  Teach's eyebrows shot up. "You know the drill, J."

  J. nodded. "The club has to agree. I got it." He sighed. "Can you fuckers at least sweep the place before I bring her by? Spray an air freshener or something? It smells like a wet ball sack in here."

  Teach nodded then called over to the bunks where the sleeping forms of Crash and MacDougal still snored away. "Listen up! In an hour we hose this place down. Not your girl, J." he clarified. "The Storm Riders from down in Richmond are doing a long distance ride up to Maine and they contacted me to get permission to pass through. I invited them to party here tonight."

  Case looked at J. excitedly. Crash popped up from his bunk like a jack-in-the-box. "We finally gonna have a proper fucking party around here? Shit! It's about time." He bounded from his bed, ignoring his stiff, scarred leg, and scurried over to where Teach was standing. "When're they coming?"

  "Tonight, whenever they get here. I want the place in party shape. You know the drill. Sensitive shit on lockdown. Fridges full. Ammo locked up." He nodded significantly at Case who snapped to attention.

  "The Storm Riders, huh? Who're they?" J. ventured. Since he'd joined the Sons of Steel, they had kept pretty well to themselves and he was finding he preferred it that way. The less people in your circle, the less chances there were of them fucking you over.

  "Support club out of Richmond. They support the Storm MC." Case whistled at the name. The Storm MC was the biggest club on the East Coast and their reputation was one of almost militant precision.

  But that wasn't what concerned J. "They an integrated club?"

  Teach nodded at the question. "They don't go in for that swastika, Nazi shit, if that's what you mean. They have a problem with you, they have a problem with me, they have a problem with all of us, right?"

  Case and Crash both nodded, but J. was unconvinced. "I'm not dealing with any skinhead shit in my territory." He could feel his fists balling instinctively. "They're coming to us, make sure they know that."

  Teach nodded, his gray dreads swinging. "I wouldn't have invited them if I thought there'd be trouble. But I hear you." He turned to Case and Crash. "No getting shitfaced tonight. We watch our backs."

  Case nodded. Crash looked crestfallen, but nodded as well. MacDougal grunted in his bunk and raised his fist in understanding, then rolled back over to the wall.

  "All right, one hour," Teach clapped his hands together like an elementary school teacher and the three men made to scatter. But Teach held J. by the arm. "Johnson. Your sister. She left another message. She was crying into the phone."

  J. felt his blood run cold. "Fuck," was his only reply.

  Teach nodded. "I hope you're close to being able to deal with it. Because I'm honestly getting sick of her taking up all my tape."

  "You could get voicemail and join the 21st century like the rest of us," J. pointed out. But Teach's eyes blazed at him and J. ducked his head at his mentor's fury. "Fine. Tomorrow. After the party."

  "Good." The old man turned back to the front of the store. He had heard J. give his word and that meant it was law now. J. sighed and turned to the showers, hoping the hot water hadn't run out. Though a cold shower might help cool the fury that pumped through him like fire in his veins.

  Chapter 21

  Emmy

  The woman behind the bar was ignoring me. "Excuse me?" I called, louder this time. I waved my hand to her, but she kept wiping the glasses and hanging them in the rack above her, her expression a million miles away.

  Rosie's bar had just opened when the cab dropped me out front. In my panicked state, I had almost thought I was at the wrong place. It looked different in the daylight.

  It had taken me longer to leave than I thought it would. I spent most of the morning turning circles in our bedroom, looking at everything for the last time. I had my backpack from my college days stuffed with a few pairs of underwear, my customized T-shirt along with a few more tops, and a pair of jeans. The four hundred and thirty eight dollars was stitched into the lining of my handbag.

  That was all I could take. All I felt entitled to take. All I wanted to take. Everything was tainted with the smell of Robert, the feel of Robert. Everything I saw reflected Robert's eyes in the mirror as he told me to watch while he raped me.

  Thinking the word had made the strength go out of my legs and I had collapsed in the middle of the living room. The ceiling fan rotated slowly, high above, providing optimal airflow as it watched me gasp for breath. The ragged place inside my core throbbed.

  When I finally found my strength again, I ran for the endtable and yanked the drawer out of its tracks. It clattered to the floor as I stabbed wildly at the buttons on the fan remote. The fan sped up, slowed down and the jerked to a halt, reversing its course. I felt a whoosh of air hit my face and smiled grimly. Fuck his airflow. I grabbed my backpack and hit the button for the elevator with satisfaction.

  When I walked through the lobby, I smiled and nodded to Officer Wilkens as if nothing was wrong. He gave a friendly wave back and calle
d something to me. But I was too keyed up to stay and have a conversation.

  I needed as much of a head start as I could get.

  I hoped when Robert came home tonight, he wouldn't even notice what I had taken. I hoped he would wait angrily for me to get home, furiously clutching the fan remote. I pictured him sitting on the edge of our bed, dreaming of how he would punish me. But I would never come home. Slowly, he would realize he had gone too far.

  And then a few days later he would get my letter. I patted my bag to make sure I had remembered it and heard the reassuring crinkle in the outside pocket. I would put it in the mail today. I would tell him I was gone and to leave me alone. I was starting over again and he wasn't part of my life anymore.

  I patted the bag over and over again as I raised my arm to summon the taxi that would drive me away from my penthouse prison. I tapped my foot on the pavement and laughed at the complete lack of cabs on the street. Of course. Unable to wait in front of the building, and aware that Officer Wilkens was watching, I turned downtown. I would start walking and find a cab to take me to the only place I knew to find J. Rosie's Cellar.

  And now Rosie was ignoring me.

  I squared my shoulders and walked directly into her line of sight. "Hi!" I said brightly, setting my handbag down on the bar and dropping my backpack to my feet. "Can I ask you a question?"

  She looked at me with a neutral expression, until a flicker of recognition passed over her face. "The boys ain't here, honey," she answered in her broad, flat accent, still wiping and putting away glasses.

  I tamped down my annoyance. "I can see that. Can you tell me where I'd find them?"

  "It's not even noon yet. Doubt they'd even be up."

  I gritted my teeth. I didn't have much time. "Right, I know. Where do they live?"

  "Seems like if they wanted you to know they would have told you, huh?"

  I clenched my sore fists in frustration. She was protecting them, this was a good sign. It would make me harder to find. I decided to take another tact. "Please Rosie. I need their help. I'm in trouble."

  She sniffed suspiciously. "What kind of trouble?"

  I took a deep breath, but it caught in my throat. All of the stress and fear of the past twenty-four hours came pouring free. The words came tumbling out in a sob. "My fiancé is hurting me. Did hurt me. Has been hurting me. Bad." The truth tasted strange in my mouth and I licked my lips. The throbbing pain inside of me flared to hideous life when it heard its name. Rosie widened her eyes as I steadied myself on the bar and continued. "He's going to keep hurting me. I have to get away. He's taken everything else from me. I can't go to my best friend, he knows her. He could hurt her too. But he doesn't know J. He couldn't hurt J." I heard hysteria in my voice. "Please, tell me where J. is!"

  Chapter 22

  J.

  "Jesus that stinks!" Case backed away from the fence in disgust, holding the collar of Bonnie the guard dog to keep her from getting too close. "How long do you think it's been dead?

  J. wrinkled his nose at the enormous rat, bloated and stinking in the summer sun. Its scrabbly claws were splayed heavenward dramatically, as if receiving some divine wisdom in death. Bonnie whined piteously, desperate to roll in the stinky corpse.

  "Mac!" He called over his shoulder, hoping the old vet would decide not to ignore him as he normally did. J. turned to see the older man emerge at the rolled up door of the garage, beer in one hand, filthy rag in another. He was shirtless, his rangy, ropey muscles showing no signs of slowing despite the puff of white hair on his chest. He grimaced at J. in greeting. J. sighed. The old man averaged two facial expressions and eight words a week. It looked like he wasn't about to waste either on J.

  "Mac, grab some gloves and a trash bag?" he called. "Dead rat!"

  MacDougal didn't react, only took a long swallow from his beer. Crushing the can in his hand, he turned slowly back to the clubhouse.

  "Think he'll get it?" J. had pulled his shirt up over his nose.

  Case nodded. "Yeah eventually." He backed away from the dead animal and grabbed Bonnie's collar. The guard dog gave one last whine, then trotted obediently back to the clubhouse with him, settling back into her corner with a sigh. She slept most of the day to be ready for her duties at night; guarding the fence line and sounding the alarm if anyone came by. Her ferocious bark was usually enough to keep curious citizens at bay. In the year J. had been living at the clubhouse he had never seen her take someone down, but Teach told him stories.

  MacDougal returned with a trash bag, but no gloves. He grimaced when the sunlight hit his eyes, but otherwise acted like handling dead rats was of as little consequence to him as crushing a beer can. He grabbed the dead animal's tail and flicked it deftly into the trash bag where it landed with a wet smack. Then he stalked back around the garage without a word.

  "Well, now I feel like a complete pussy," Case observed from the doorway.

  J. just shook his head. "He's gonna outlive us all. Nuclear bomb goes off it's going to be just roaches and Mac."

  "The roaches will make him their king," Case smiled fondly. “He'll teach them survival skills.

  J. laughed and scanned the rest of the fence line. "I think we're clear out here. I already got most of the trash that was stuck in the barbed wire."

  "And I swept up the glass. Why the fuck did we use glass bottles for target practice?"

  J. shrugged. "Seemed like a good idea at the time. You guys were drunk and wanted to shoot things."

  "You were sober?"

  "I was still on parole, asshole."

  "Fuck, I totally thought you were hammered that night, my bad." He ducked as J. aimed a smack to the back of his head, the straightened back up again. "Who in the fuck...?'

  The taxi was slowing down as if the driver was trying to look for an address. "Somebody's lost," J. observed. No one would be riding a taxi to this part of town. The clubhouse was the only inhabited building for blocks.

  Case put his hand on his hip. As sergeant-at-arms, he was responsible for security. The upcoming visit from the Storm Riders already had him on edge. "Keep driving," he muttered, pacing slowly towards the street.

  But the taxi didn't pull away. Instead it rolled to a stop. The back door flew open and a blond woman leapt to the curb. The taxi immediately screeched away.

  "Who the fuck is that?" Case cried, pulling his gun from his holster.

  J. knocked his friend's arms to the side, “Don't shoot, I know her!" He ran to the fence line and hooked his fingers through the links. "Emmy!" he called. "Emmy, what the fuck?"

  Emmy turned to where he stood and her shoulders sagged in relief. "J.!" she cried.

  "That's her?" Case marveled. "She looks like shit."

  J. couldn't help but agree. Her face was streaked with tears, bloated and puffy with red-rimmed eyes. It wrenched his heart to see her like that, but then he realized the only reason why. The only reason she would be distraught and looking for him.

  He rounded the perimeter at a run, bursting through the front store and down the driveway to where she stood.

  "I...." she began, then collapsed against his chest.

  "Hey, hey, hey," J. ran his fingers through her hair, holding her close to his chest as she sobbed quietly against his T-shirt. He silently willed his traitorous body to stop responding to her nearness, to stop reacting so quickly to her soft skin and scented hair. "I got you," he told her and the words on his lips sounded like a promise.

  "I need to say it," she declared, pulling herself away and wiping her eyes. They blazed with sudden fury when she spoke again. "I left him. I did it. I got away."

  J. looked at her. She was holding herself carefully, as if she were trying not to cause herself pain.

  "Did you have to fight him?" he asked. He hoped the answer was no. Yesterday's lesson was meant to give her some much-needed confidence. He never believed she could go toe to toe with a bigger, stronger, angrier man.

  She gave a short little laugh in response. "Let's just sa
y things got physical." She shook her head as if trying to clear it.

  "So I left. This morning after he went to work." She bit her lip nervously and ducked her head. "I needed to find you."

  Her words came sudden and fast, a torrent of nervous hope. "I know we just met and I know you don't owe me anything but you were the only one who could help me J. I'm so sorry to get you mixed up in my shit, I know you just graduated and you got your own life to figure out, but Robert knows everyone in my life except you. If I went to anyone else he would find me and if he found me he would make me come back and I don't think I'm strong enough to escape from him twice." She clutched his arm, her eyes wet with tears.

  "I needed somewhere safe. So I went to Rosie's and she helped me find you and I'm so sorry again but I needed somewhere safe. Can you keep me safe?"

  J. felt something inside of him lurch violently askew. Without another thought he folded her into his arms. Her lips found his and for the moment it was just like his dream.

  "You're safe," he murmured as he drowned in the softness that was her. "I promise you're safe."

  Chapter 23

  Emmy

  I don't know what I was picturing when Rosie mentioned a clubhouse. But this was something else entirely.

  The building looked like it had begun its life as a brick rowhouse. But it had metastasized from there, pieced together like Frankenstein's monster. The rest of the rowhomes on the block must have been knocked down ages ago, leaving it to stand as a lone sentinel on an entire city block. A metal dome rose behind it, giving it the look of a huge beetle spread across the too-large parking lot that was surrounded by chainlink fence topped ominously with barbed wire. There were no buildings around, no signs of life anywhere though the noise of cars and trucks were everywhere above us. The effect was eerie.

  The faded sign out front read "Steel Cycles." J. led me through the front door, into a cramped little shop filled with pieces of chrome and metal that I didn't understand. And old black man leaned against the counter leafing through a catalog. I recognized him from the bar. J. had called him Teach.