Shot to Hell (Four Horsemen MC #7) (23 page)

If the military had put Abe’s murderers on trial, or if she’d been able to hunt them down on her own, she’d at least have closure. It wouldn’t bring Abe back, but it’d be
something
at least. But no one had been punished for killing Abe, and no one ever would.

Somehow, she had to accept it and move on.

“And you
know
I had a hand in it.”

“Yes, but I’ve laid all the responsibility at your feet, and I…I shouldn’t have. I’m s—”

“Don’t apologize to me. Not ever.” Steele clutched her hand. “I wanted your anger, your hatred. I wanted you to take it out on me.”

“Why?”

“Because I deserve it.”

“Steele….”

“And because you looked so…empty.”

“Empty?”

“When I saw you at the funeral, you’re weren’t…
there
anymore.” Steele circled a hand around his own face to illustrate.

“I was grieving.”

Steele shook his head. “No, it was too hollow for grief. It wasn’t sadness or pain. I think you were hiding.”

She wrapped her arms around herself but didn’t deny his words. 

“Ash…do you….”

“What?”

“Do you think you could ever….” He glanced away, and his voice grew hoarse. “Could you ever think about forgiving me?”

Ash considered his words. The anger had lessened, but she wasn’t quite
there
yet. “I know you’re sorry and if you could change what happened, you would.”

He nodded.

She pulled her hand back and moved away from him. “But…I….” Ash sucked in a deep breath. “I think…
damn
. We shouldn’t be talking about this right now. You’ve been through enough for one day.”

“Please say it.”

Ash closed her eyes. “I think the Coyote situation is similar. It sounds like you made the same mistake—like you didn’t learn your lesson the first time. Part of being with a unit is having your brother’s back, no matter what.”

Steele swallowed thickly.

“If it came down to it, would you sacrifice yourself to save someone else? Put their needs above your own?”

He hung his head. “I’ve always put myself before others. If I hadn’t been tryin’ to get laid, Abe wouldn’t have died alone. And if I hadn’t been screwing around, Coyote would still be here. I’m a fuck-up, always have been.” He touched the gauze on his chest, rubbing at the wound. “I wasn’t payin’ attention the night the Raptors snatched him. I was on my phone, textin’ a chick, wishin’ I hadn’t volunteered for guard duty, and half-assin’ it. I should’ve watched my flank.”

“You didn’t know the Raptors would attack.” Damn, she shouldn’t have brought it up.
No sense in kickin’ a man when he’s already down.

“It’s no excuse to slack off.”

Steele handed her the jar, and she took a sip this time. It blazed down her throat. “Damn, that’s strong.” Ash gave it back and forced herself to stand up and walk away from temptation.

He pointed to the closet. “Take my football career for example.”

The closet door stood open, and she spied his old letterman jacket hanging to one side. The booster club had purchased his football uniforms and the jacket—after Ash confided in the coach about Steele’s financial situation. Steele’s mother couldn’t swing the cost, and he’d been such a stellar athlete, the school didn’t want to let a little bitty thing like the cost of a uniform stand in his way. She hadn’t told Steele she’d betrayed his confidence. Steele never accepted help—he considered it charity.  But the booster moms had made it a present, so he couldn’t refuse.

“You still have your old jacket.”

“Yeah. A little souvenir from what my life coulda been.”

Ash drifted over. While she watched him play from the bleachers, she’d fantasized about him driving her home after one of the games. He’d place the jacket over her shoulders to keep her warm, and then he’d kiss her goodnight on the front porch.

Ash pushed open the closet door to get a closer look. Her fingers itched to feel the supple leather of the white sleeves. The rest of the jacket was green wool with a chenille P on the breast pocket.
White and green—Poteet Pirate colors.

“Can I put on?” She hadn’t meant to ask, but the words popped out.

When she glanced over her shoulder, Steele was watching her. He licked his lips. “Go ahead. You cold?”

“Um, yeah.”
Big lie.
Right now, she felt warm—very warm.

Turning away, Ash slipped the coat over her shoulders, and her eyes fell closed. The smell of old leather washed over her. The jacket was too large and the sleeves were too long, but she loved the fit. It felt better than she’d imagined. Reality hardly ever surpassed fantasy.

Ash did a little twirl. “What do you think?”

“Looks good on you.”

“Go Pirates,” Ash whispered. “What were you saying earlier? What happened with your football career?” As far as she knew, he’d never been offered a scholarship.

Before he spoke, he tucked into the moonshine again. “Our senior year, the coach got wind of a scout comin’ to our last game of the year. The guy wanted to see me in action.” Steele laid back on the bed and turned over on one side, facing her. “So I practiced my ass off, ran drills every night after school…only to blow it the night before the game. I went to this party down by the creek.” He shook his head. “I should’ve been gettin’ sleep, preparin’ for the game. Instead, I drank myself unconscious, fucked two girls, and spent the next mornin’ pukin’ my guts out.”

Ash winced. “I remember the game. You didn’t play so hot.”

The Pirates had gotten their asses handed to them on the field. Football in Texas was a big deal, and Steele had pissed off the whole damn town. They heckled him for months afterward—until he’d gone to basic training and come back a Marine. The only thing Texans respected more than a great football player was a man in uniform.

Steele snorted. “I played like a junior varsity douchebag. My mom was countin’ on me. She wanted me to get a scholarship, play for Texas A & M, and then get drafted to the NFL. I was supposed to be able to take care of her, give her everythin’ my dad never did.”

“You were eighteen years old, just a kid.”

“It shows a pattern.”

Ash couldn’t argue with the logic, but she didn’t wanna send him into a shame spiral either. “Come on, give yourself a break.”

“I should’ve played for the Dallas Cowboys and bought my mom a big ol’ house anywhere she damn well pleased.”

“You bought her a house in Poteet.” Ash had driven by it the last time she’d been home. It might not be a mansion, but his mother was living her golden years in comfort, thanks to her son.

“It’s not enough,” he mumbled. Steele’s eyes were shut.

Ash took the Mason jar from him and set it back on the nightstand. Then she hit the switch on the lamp. “You’ve had a long day. I bet you could use some sleep.”

“Don’t wanna.” But he didn’t make a move to turn on the lights.

“We’ll talk tomorrow.”

“About what?”

“You’ll see.”

After a few moments, Steele’s rhythmic snoring filled the room.

Ash perched on the end of the bed and watched him sleep. She wished they could go back somehow—a girl with a crush on the handsome football hero. Back then, everything had seemed so simple.

What if we’re overthinking it? What if we scratched the itch?

Wait, woah, bad idea.

Oh, yeah, she needed to get out of there before she did something stupid like crawl into bed beside him. Ash hesitated before she draped the jacket over the bed and fled the scene.  

Chapter Fifteen

Hours later, Steele slowly drifted into consciousness.

He cracked an eye open and peered at the far window. The graying light told him it was early in the morning.

What was I thinkin’?

Steele grimaced. His mouth was dry and tasted terrible, like he’d spent the night licking the floorboards in one of Perdition’s crash rooms. He ran a palm along his tongue, as if he could scrape the gross off it. A cursory scan of the room revealed he was at his shitty apartment, not the clubhouse, so the wood-licking thing had to be a bad reaction to moonshine.

“Never again.”  

But he knew history would repeat itself. Steele was a
fun
guy in the club—he drank, partied, and fucked strange women. No one expected anything more of him.

Steele staggered into the bathroom and took a scalding hot shower. After a good scrub and a vigorous teeth-brushing, he felt almost human again. He padded back into the bedroom and pulled on a pair of clean drawers.

He spotted the letterman jacket sprawled on the end of his bed and froze. So it hadn’t been a dream—Ash had come over last night. He recalled most of their interaction, even if the memory was foggy.

Steele also remembered how the Raptor prospect had gotten away from them. Ash had been reckless—playing a game of chicken with fate.

It was Saturday morning, and Steele couldn’t track the Raptors until tomorrow night, if Vick was right about their timeline. That meant twenty-four hours of waiting and worry.

Well, he
could
do something about Ash.

One way or the other, she’d walk out of his life tomorrow. Either he could let it go, or he could man up and make the most of their time together—maybe lay a few demons to rest.

He grabbed some things they’d need for the ride—bottled water, trail mix, an extra helmet for the lady. At the last second, he grabbed the jacket. Steele wished he’d given her the damn thing in high school.

Well supplied and mind made up, Steele headed for Hades.

***

“We’re both edgy. We got nothin’ to do but wait until tomorrow night. So I say we find a way to deal with the frustration. And I only know of three ways to work off this kind of energy.”

Ash stood in the doorway of her hotel room, arms crossed over her chest. Steele hadn’t even said “howdy” to her. Instead, he’d blurted out his frustration speech as soon as she’d opened the door.

His hair was wet from a recent shower and slightly darker. Steele had shaved, and the skin on his cheeks and chin looked smooth and supple. She wondered how it would feel beneath her fingertips or against her own cheeks.

 Or lips.

The last few days had worn her down, sanded down her rough edges. If she spent any more time with Steele, sifting through raw memories, she’d turn into one of those super sensitive Lifetime movie chicks.

She shook her head. “I’m not interested.” There hadn’t been much venom in the words. Ash couldn’t manage the tough girl routine this morning.

Why did she get the feeling an indecent proposal was headed her way? Or maybe it was wishful thinking.

Steele ignored the protest. “A good fight, but I think we should save it for the ass-kicking to come.” Steele touched a fingertip to his busted lip. Ash was glad to see the swelling and bruising had eased. “The next is sex.”

“Are you hittin’ on me?”

Steele braced an arm above his head, swaying closer to her. “And if I was?”

 “What’s the third?” Her voice sounded high and shrill even to her own ears.

“A ride. We can burn this frustration off with a
long,
hard
ride.”

Her breath caught. Dear Lord, those words summoned a barrage of filthy images.

She doubted being around Steele for any length of time would calm her down—but getting out of town sounded good. Or maybe she wanted an excuse to touch him. Riding behind him on his big, noisy Harley, she’d wrap her arms around him and press her front against his back. It might make the tension between them worse, which a wicked part of her thought might be fun too.

“Unless you can’t handle it?”

He ran a hand along the door frame, his touch slow and deliberate.

Ash lifted her chin. “I can handle anything.”

“Well, then, anytime you’d like to
handle it
, let me know.”

Ignoring the innuendo, Ash scooped up her bag and keys. “I’ll go for a ride, but that’s all we’re doin’.”

“Suits me fine.” Steele strutted over to his Harley and straddled the machine while she locked up. He started it up, and the machine purred and rumbled to life. “You like?”

Ash smiled at the pride in his voice. He’d come up in the world from his infamous piece-of-shit car.

“I do.”

“Then you won’t mind this next part. The Horsemen have a tradition, you see. When a woman rides on one of our bikes, she has to pay a toll.”

“What kind of toll?”

He held out a hand. “Panties. I need yours.”

A thrill ran through her body, and for a second, she considered it. Then sanity stepped in as she remembered the panty-raid clothesline she’d seen earlier.

“I don’t give a damn about your frat-boy tradition. I’m not givin’ you my underwear. No way, no how.” She took a couple steps back. 

“Then you won’t be getting a ride—or the tension release afterward.” Steele revved the engine.

Of course, he’d brought all this up after he’d sold her on the ride. It was on the tip of her tongue to tell him to go fuck himself, but she
really
wanted to go.

“You’re a dick.”

“So you’ve said. Deal or no deal?”

Ash swaggered over. “Fuck you.”

Steele shut off the bike and stood. “Love to. Choice number two it is.” His lips curled into a feral smile. “Thought you’d never ask.”

Ash swayed closer to him, her knee brushing his, and she stared at his mouth.

He wrapped an arm around her, pulling her flush against his body. “Wanna finish what we started in the back seat all those years ago? Because I’m game, Dusty. I’m all yours if you want me.”

She could feel him, hard and heavy against her abdomen. All she had to do was open the hotel room door, and Steele would be on top of her, inside her.

Bliss was only a couple of feet away.

Ash couldn’t say no, nor could she say yes. Instead, she stood still, paralyzed by indecision.

To his credit, Steele didn’t push, merely let her ride out the uncertainty.

“I’m not giving you my drawers,” she finally managed.