Treat: Steel Saints MC Page 7

  “Alana? Hello… Earth to Alana?” Liam washes a hand over my view trying to grab back my attention. “What the hell are you thinking about? You’re taking way too long to make your mind up.”

  I shake my head and pull my hands out from under him. “I’m sorry. I’m just thinking about some other ideas. Say I agree, I want to be able to write about this.”

  “You want to write about this?” he repeats, his dark, bushy eyebrow raising.

  “Yeah. See, I’m a writer. That’s what I’m going to grad school for, and my writing has been…” I take a deep breath of air as I admit, almost ashamed, “Boring. It’s been boring. This could totally change the game if I get some inspiration.”

  “So you want to write some book about me and the club?”

  “Maybe. I’m not sure yet. But maybe it will give me some inspiration and some ideas for some more unique characters. I just want your permission to write about what happens to us. I won’t use names or anything. That would be incredibly stupid --”

  “Why would I care then? Just give me a badass name like Maverick or something and I’m okay with whatever you want to type out.”

  “Well, that’s the other thing. I have this blog.”

  “A blog? Isn’t that like an online diary for nerds.”

  “Come on now. It’s not that bad. I’ve got readers and followers. I write about my life with the ice cream truck, and it can be pretty exciting.”

  “I’m sure chocolate sundaes get your readers all riled up,” Liam jokes.

  “Shut up. I’m being serious here,” I reply almost offended. “I want to write about what is going on in real time. I think I could sell some advertising on my site if I can drive up enough readers. And your story could do it for me.”

  “I’m not big on journalists, Alana. I’ve got cops around here, but if they find out about the diamonds, I’m not going to be able to keep them on my payroll.”

  “No names. I promise. I don’t even give my name, location, or ice cream truck name on my blog. It’s all anon. Police can’t track it. I’ll make sure my roommate Jana beefs up the security so it can’t be hacked in. She already, sort of, knows about what’s going on so we wouldn’t even be adding another person to this mix.”

  Liam reaches over with his fork and takes a bit of my piece of untouched chocolate cake. After chewing silently for a few seconds, he finally commits. “Fine. I’m good with that. I give you my paycheck and some proceeds for the next month. In exchange, you let me use your truck and ice cream sales routes as a hideout, you attend some of my matches and provide a look out for me, and you become a temporary member of Steel Saints.”

  The hair on the back of my neck spikes at a few of his demands. “Wait. I have to go with you to the matches? Why do you need me to go? Can’t I just read about you winning in the paper or online?”

  “It’s because of my ex. She’s fucking crazy, and not in the good way that gets me going. With you there, I’ll have another eye looking out for me. Call it your extra job in exchange for the payouts from the fights.”

  Ugh. So we’re even adding more to my plate including me playing babysitter and watchdog from a crazy ex? I guess I could handle that, and if she showed, it would certainly make a good story for the blog. I nod my head slowly in agreement, but I’m still stuck on one other part of what he wanted.

  “But do I have to be a member? I’m not some biker’s ‘old lady’ or whatever you call them. I’m not going to be forced into becoming a prostitute or something, right? You’ve got to promise me that. After the month’s up and your diamonds are gone, we’re done. We part ways, and we never talk again. I don’t want nightmares about motorcycles following me everywhere for the rest of my life.”

  “Got it. No turning you into some streetwalker. I’ll put away the fishnets and eye shadow. But you will have to meet my guys if we’re going to make this work. They have to approve of you first, and we’re going to need to get some security while we do the sales. I don’t go out there alone.”

  My stomach turns at the thought of having to be in a room full of men just like the ones outside my ice cream truck. Walking into a den of rabid animals isn’t exactly something I can handle right now. But there’s about $30,000 on the line here, and I’m ready to walk off the side of a building if it keeps my dad out of debt and him in the hospital he needs to be in.

  I reach out my hand towards Liam to offer it to him. “Fine,” I say slowly. “It’s a deal. One month of riding along in the ice cream truck, you pay me, and we’re done.”

  Even as he smiles brightly, there’s something inside of me that just knows that a deal with a man like this is never as straightforward or as easy as it may seem. If I’m going to make this work and get out alive and with my money, I’m going to have to break just about every rule that comes my way.

  CHAPTER 8

  “Okay. Here’s your first order as a member of Steel Saints,” I say, trying hard to contain that smug self-satisfaction welling up inside of me. “I need you to drive me back to the gym. I need to get a workout in.” Even a guy like me gets a little guilty when he downs a piece of chocolate cake and a half a bottle of champagne. I’ve got the tournament to think about this month. There was no distraction big enough, including those round tits and blue eyes to keep me from that.

  Alana cocks her head slightly to the side as she questions me, “I didn’t think my role was to play chauffeur to you. I thought I was just supposed to be helping you sell those diamonds.”

  I’m not sure how to respond. So instead, I do what comes naturally.

  I lie through my teeth.

  “I’ve got contacts at that gym,” I insist. “This is work related, if you must know.” I really have no need to make that up, but the truth is that I want to keep Alana close to me. Part of it is because of that text to her friend. Sending her back so soon after she got heated will set alarm bells off. I doubt this girl can control her emotions, and when it comes to girls and emotions, things slip out in regular conversation.

  The other part of my plan was purely selfish. I want more of her. The way she leans slightly when she speaks, the little pieces of hair caressing her neck, her eyes flickering in the hanging lamps above her head… she had this strangely normal and beautiful way about her that made her absolutely ordinary and sensationally sexy all at the same time. She was a puzzle that I wanted to put together piece by piece, even if it meant making some risky business moves for Steel Saints.

  “Okay. Okay. But I do need to get some sleep tonight. I have class tomorrow morning at ten, and I’m not exactly the best person to ride around in a noisy, steaming hot ice cream truck if I don’t get a certain amount of sleep.” She presses her small hands to the table and pushes her way out of the booth to stand before me. Her tiny figure impatiently presses her weight down on one leg while the other taps urgently. “Plus, I need to pack up all that crap your boys threw out of the back of my truck. It’s going to have to be sanitized before the night is done.”

  Even fidgeting and nagging, she’s attractive. Damn, this is getting hard to control. I put my hand up in her direction and shrug. “Go back to the truck and do what you need to do. I gotta tell the guys where I am going and check on that burner in the kitchen. I’ll be five minutes.” I hand her back her key ring and walk past her through the swinging doors. She goes in the opposite direction back outside. I can practically hear her grumbling about something as she goes.

  “Jason!” I call towards my head chef. Unlike the rest of the guys in this kitchen, he isn’t a pledging member of Steel Saints. I make almost every man who wants to join the club do a few month’s worth of shifts in the back just so I can feel them out. Plus, it gives them some skills in case they get real jobs. My whole kitchen was stocked with felony arsonists, misdemeanor batteries, and fugitive busboys -- all except for Jason who runs the show for me on areas I have little to no care for.

  “Yeah! Boss! What is it? We’re slammed back here. We’ve been in the weeds since that
burner went out an hour ago.” Jason uses an old dish rag to wipe the visible sweat from his cherry red forehead. This was certainly not a job I could stand for.

  I talk while I’m heading back towards my office to lock the door. “I’m taking off in a few minutes. I won’t be back tonight. You call me if there’s something wrong. Got it?”

  “Well, that’s the thing, Liam. I was going to talk to you after the dinner service was over, but I don’t think it can wait until tomorrow. It’s about security here -- Mateo and Tyler.” My stomach sinks all over again. Whatever the hell they’re up to, it’s not good. Jason leans in as he whispers in my direction. “It’s just that I heard what happened in the parking lot….”

  I’m about to cut him off. There’s a rule here in Steel Saints that orders stay secret and what happens between another member and me stays between us. I don’t tolerate gossip or the passing around information. That was for junior highs and bullshit cliques of girls, not club business.

  Still Jason senses my anger and places a quick hand to my chest to calm me down. “No, Liam. They weren’t talking to other guys, just between the two of them. They were doing it in the back store room, and they didn’t see me there. I was going to go past them to let them know I could hear them, but they said something that caught my ear. It was something about Amy. I don’t know if it’s the same one that started that fire a few months ago, but I thought you should know about it.”

  Dammit! My night was ending almost perfectly with Alana waiting for me in that ice cream truck and a workout on schedule. Now I have my ex-psychopath Amy to worry about. “What the hell did they say about her?” I ask, dreading knowing about the information.

  “It wasn’t much. Tyler said that he had heard from her and that she was running with some guy in the Mafia.” I can tell Jason is trying to downplay this information, trying to keep his nose out of club business, but the more elusive he his, the angrier I am about to be. “There wasn’t a name, but it seemed liked to me that Mateo knew too. He kept saying back to him, ‘It’s business. It’s business.’ I don’t know what it means, but I thought you would so I’m telling you.”

  I spy around the room towards the few men staring at us. A few months ago, I made sure that the boys hired to work in the kitchen passed through me. I wanted to make sure they were going to be loyal to only me and not join up in any little fraction that was forming out from under my nose. While I was so busy trying to earn their trust and assessing their value, I completely forgot that both Mateo and Tyler had access to them here at work.

  I get out my phone and start texting my second-in-command, Tony, and my enforcer crew. We needed an immediate meeting minus the detractors. Whatever was happening had to be cut off now. I couldn’t stand this build up to a Caesar-like showdown any longer. Plus, they needed to know about my alternate plan to move the diamonds and meet Alana so we could get a guard up.

  My text was quick. No details needed. My men come like good dogs when I call them forward: Tonight. 11 o’clock. Headquarters. My office. Top boys and enforcers only. No others. Don’t post in group.

  When I hit send, I return my attention back to Jason who is looking around in almost near panic at the amount of tickets getting unanswered. “Thanks, Jason. You always seem to have my back. If you hear anything else from Mateo or Tyler… or any of these guys, send me a text message. I know you don’t want to get anyone in trouble, but if it helps, I’ll throw some cash and some protection your way. I don’t award snitches, but I’m willing to make some exceptions for you in this case.”

  He thanks me and heads back to his own club of men as he shouts orders about recipes and plating while I slip into my office unseen. I roll the chair up and pull out a drawer from the wooden desk. My hand glides around the top until I feel the hidden compartment. I slide the drawer forward and pull out the plastic zip bag full of papers. Slowly undoing the wrapping, I find the picture of Amy and me at a beach in Florida two years ago. We looked so much younger then. It was before I killed the guy. It was before she decided that she wanted part of Steel Saints’s action. Only months after we took this picture, we would be done, with her practically dismantling everything I worked so hard to build as she left.

  I haven’t looked at this picture for months. She’s been a distant and unpleasant memory for me, but I keep it around for sentimental value. Amy was the only one who could ride with me, really. Whatever horrible thing I did, she wanted more of it. If I robbed an ATM, she wanted the bank next. That time was chaotic and stupid, but it was the last time I felt really alive.

  But now, she’s gone too far. I pinch at the edge of the picture and tear down quickly. It shreds into two and then four until there are scattered shards of our faces pressed together falling into the garbage can between my legs. The time of Amy was over. Now I had fresher meat to bite into.

  When I make it to the ice cream truck, Alana is sitting at the driver’s side, her lit up phone in her hands. She drops it as the sound of the passenger door opening surprises her. I take this opportunity to snatch the phone away from her as she lunges in my direction. Her warm hands touch my neck, my arms, and my hands as she cups around them to yank the phone away. I’m too strong for her as I shout over her cries, “If we’re going to work together, you’re going to follow my rules.”

  She bites her lip as her chest heaves with deep breaths. That blonde hair, once in a neat ponytail when I first met her, has fallen down against her neck and exploded into waves of curls around her perky breasts. I too am breathing heavily, my mouth going dry along and my senses failing me. “No more phones,” I mutter. “When you’re with me, I’ve got your phone. I’ll get you a burner tomorrow to use so we can communicate.”

  She sticks her oval jaw out slightly and looks towards the window. Her arms fall and cross around her hourglass waist. After a long moment, she relents. “Fine. What else?”

  “Drive, and I’ll tell you what I want you to do.” I point her towards the direction of my gym. The whole way, she shoots me looks, both disgusted and intrigued. I can tell she’s not exactly patient. I can work with that. Her hands wrap firmly around the steering wheel, circling her knuckles several times in rhythm to the rock music playing over the radio. A few times, I catch her hips sway side to side in those tight jeans of hers.

  “Pull over,” I finally say, not sure if I could take any more of this. “Pull over there.” I point towards a nearly abandoned strip mall just a few blocks from my gym. She looks over at me terrified. The parking lot is unlit, and the only cars left in the lot are a few beaters well past their prime. I know the area well.

  “What? Why?” she asks cautiously. Her azure colored eyes are wide. “We’re nowhere near the gym.”

  “We’re a few blocks away. This is just a detour.”

  “Liam -- I’m ---” Her shoulders hunch over the steering wheel as she searches the parking lot for some answer, some escape route.

  “Alana,” I laugh as I give in, “I’m not going to kill you. Pull over in that center parking spot. We need to get something done and over with.”

  She looks just slightly relieved. Her hands still shake as she puts the truck into park and removes the key from the ignition. “Go in the back,” I command her, my voice dropping a half octave. She unbuckles her seatbelt slowly, her eyes fixed on me. I watch her from the rearview mirror as she steps into the bed and hops up on one of the softly humming white freezers.

  I follow a few steps behind, taking in the view of her long legs dangling while she pulls back her hair. I pull her hands down as I say, “Leave it like that. I like your hair down.” She bites her red painted lips again. The bottoms of her pearly teeth show their fangs as they press into the skin. My body aches even harder for her.

  “I don’t work with many girls, especially not goody-goody girls like you. But I have a rule for them.” I place my hands on her knees and pull them just enough apart that I can slip in. Her legs rest up against the side of my body. My face leans in towards her as I whispe
r just past her ear, “No sex.”

  “What?” she asks, her voice both confused and maybe even a bit let down. Her impatience is showing again. Those hands of her wrap and curl around the edges of the freezer top.

  I press my face against her cheek, feeling the sensation of her body light up like a spark. My arm wraps around her back and makes its way around to the side of her hips, holding her in place. My other shoulder pins her against the back wall of the truck. I glide my face across hers until I am centimeters from her ruby lips. Our noses touch as I say, “But for you, I’ll break the rules just this once.”

  I don’t know who kisses the other first. It comes on fast like fury bursting through both of us and linking our bodies to the other. Both of my hands wrap around her hair, her neck, her waist, and her thighs until she is pressed firmly up against me and I can feel every smooth curve of her delicious body. Through the madness of our kisses, she moans tenderly, biting almost dangerously on my lip and tugging away for air.

  To my surprise, she doesn’t slow down.