Chapter 11: STEEL

Chapter Eleven

STEEL

M y dick jumps in my pants and my heart sinks into the shadows. I promised myself I wouldn’t touch this messed up, traumatized woman and add to her misery. I told myself I would be a changed man after prison and think before taking action. You do a lot of stupid shit to end up in prison and stupid impulsive shit while you’re in there.

I want to be better, but my urges are impossible to control, especially after all the time I spent behind bars. I don’t have to be a demon, I understand that…

But when I see Joslin in that Korn shirt and sweatpants, my arousal takes over my common sense. I feel like a reptile catching the scent of a small rodent.

Seraphine will be here soon with breakfast. I don’t have time to do anything.

“Steel–” Joslin begins.

I clamp my hand over her mouth and push her back into the bathroom.

Joslin’s eyes widen as much as they can when I shove her back into the bathroom and close the door behind me. The fear on her face, the surprise in her eyes should stop me, but I just keep examining her with surprising coldness, turning off all my emotions as I feel my dick rising to attention.

It’s not something I’m proud of, it’s just something that happens when I have to fill a need. Doesn’t make sense to get all caught up in feelings, especially when Southpaw or anyone in this club could take an unmarked woman away from me at any time.

I don’t know what type of woman she is. All I know is that she won’t be mine unless I mark her physically. Or mark her like this. Joslin reaches for my forearm, never breaking eye contact with me, never dropping her expression of clear betrayal. She expects better from me.

“I want to fuck you,” I say. “I know it’s wrong. I know it’s not what you want but… It’s been a long time for me Joslin and?—”

“HOUSEKEEPING!” Seraphine’s voice interrupts me, followed by a torrent of knocking. It’s enough of a distraction that Joslin breaks away from me and gets the door open. I don’t stop her. Fucking Seraphine…

Joslin walks to the hotel room door and opens it to find Seraphine, smiling like it’s goddamn Christmas as she holds a tray with all the fixings on it. I reach over and take the tray out of Seraphine’s hands, partly so I can step in front of Joslin and stop her from taking off down the hall like a lemming.

“The clothes fit you cute,” Seraphine says, giving Joslin a once over. “And you survived the night without me hearing any thumping and moaning through these noisy old ass vents.”

When she sees the look on Joslin’s face, she says quickly. “Don’t mean anything by that, sweetheart. You’re free to fuck him if you want, even if he’s a bit of a manwhore.”

“Seraphine…”

“I’ll be downstairs.”

“Do you need help?” Joslin says, giving Seraphine a pleading look which she doesn’t seem to notice. Seraphine waves her off.

“Gosh, you are polite. I don’t need help, sweetheart. You look burned up and tired. Eat some breakfast with Steel and if he lets you out of his sight, I recommend watching some television.”

Before Joslin can answer, I close the door in Seraphine’s face.

“Eager to get away, huh?”

I walk towards the little table in the motel room and hear Seraphine shuffle away after she clearly listens at the door for a few seconds. I set the tray on the table and point to a chair. Joslin follows obediently, but she doesn’t take her eyes off me.

I have mixed feelings about her attention on me right now. She’s clearly mad, but fuck it feels good to have this woman looking at me at all.

“You had a moment,” she says. “Not a good moment.”

“You’re pretty fine.”

“Thank you,” Joslin says. “You’re not an animal, Ryder .”

Her saying my name does something funny to my chest. But her tone is crazy. She doesn’t know what I am. I scoff.

“How can you say that after what you saw?”

“You don’t know what I saw.”

“Care to tell me?”

“While we’re eating?” She says, reaching for a bagel before spreading cream cheese over it. Once she gets the spread over one half of the bagel, she adds bacon to her plate and pours orange juice from a clear jug into her short glass.

“I was in prison. I can shit while I’m eating.”

Joslin gives me a disapproving look. Church girl. Hm. I pull out my e-cigarette, which I’m sure she will also disapprove of. At least she plans on eating. I eat a strip of bacon and wait for her to say something, tapping the end of the e-cig on the table with my other hand. I wish I had a little more coffee in me…

“The blond guys beheaded your friends,” she says, the tone vanishing from her voice. “I don’t know why. They didn’t say anything, they didn’t cry out. The only thing I deduced is maybe they stumbled upon something illegal.”

“We’re not always on the right side of the law,” I say, keeping my eye on her, watching her face for signs of deception and then just watching it for the sake of taking in all the strange ethnic features on this woman’s face. I still don’t entirely understand what a Filipino is, and how one of them got all the way here but… I try to understand.

Joslin eats with small, dainty bites, replying only when it’s polite to do so. Watching her mouth makes my dick ache, and definitely makes it hard to pay attention to what this woman is actually saying. I can’t help it. She’s so fucking strange and sexy. I guess I’d call it exotic.

“There are different scales to things,” Joslin says. “Just because you’re a drug dealer or whatever doesn’t mean you’re a killer. Or a Nazi.”

Guilt so strong it feels Catholic spreads through me as I keep my steady gaze on Joslin’s pretty little mouth. I don’t identify with being a Nazi, but I did what I had to in prison to make it through without having a nine inch black dick shoved up my ass. If she doesn’t approve of my language, she definitely wouldn’t approve of the white supremacist tattoo I have covered up.

I gave both sides a chance. I just don’t feel insecure enough to rely on my skin color to feel good about myself. Doesn’t stop me from feeling shame about what I did. What I said.

“Right. How did you come up with this theory?”

“I followed them,” she says. “And I didn’t kill one but… I knocked him out.”

“So they’ve seen you?”

“SLITLICKER.”

I nearly spit out my orange juice.

“What the fuck did you just say?”

Joslin scowls. “Please don’t make me repeat it.”

“I didn’t hear what you said.”

She glares.

“SLITLICKER,” Joslin says, enunciating as she glares at me. I grin, but her scowl doesn’t break. Sunlight filters in through the blinds.

“Weird to hear you say that, church girl.”

“Don’t call me church girl,” she says, rolling her eyes. “It was just the name on his cut. Stitched on there with a bunch of racist patches.”

This woman doesn’t look like she killed a man and I don’t believe she knocked someone out. I doubt she could knock out a toddler. No offense to her, but she’s petite.

“How did you knock him out?”

“By accident.”

That makes more sense than brute strength.

“Shit,” I whisper. This part of her confession might have been useful earlier, but she might not have been in her right mind to tell me. I don’t like the idea that I left any witnesses out there. A witness might have seen my face. Or hers.

“The others assumed he disappeared to drink,” Joslin explains. “I hid until they left.”

She chews for a bit and I watch her lips until she speaks again. “By the time they left, I was too dehydrated to move and… I thought I was… gonna die.”

“Then, I saved your life,” I finish the story. “Gave you water. Brought you back to civilization.”

“That’s enough, white savior.”

“Okay, church girl.”

She drinks her orange juice to avoid looking at me. I stare at her neck and fight off the urge to yank that cup away from her and drag her to the bed. If I don’t give in to this urge, I’ll have to keep fighting it. I pull out my flask and take a drink instead.

“What else did you see?”

“Murder. Mayhem. What more do you need to know?”

“SLITLICKER,” I whisper. “That’s a place to start.”

I wink at Joslin, but she takes a bite out of her bagel, ignoring my innuendo. I guess the death of a Nazi biker doesn’t exactly set the mood. I take a few more sips of liquor to get over the embarrassment of trying.

Joslin says something that isn’t a strict admonishment for my drinking after that.

“Their organization is based out of Globe. The clubhouse is a secret, but those men are from Globe.”

“Thanks,” I tell her. “The boss will be happy you cooperated.”

“You’re not the boss?”

I laugh. “Do I look like the boss?”

“You’re about 6’5” and you’ve been to prison.”

“Exactly,” I tell her. “Boss never goes to prison. Rule number one of being an outlaw.”

Joslin sighs and rolls her eyes like she doesn’t find my outlaw life very impressive. There is obviously some part of her that appreciates the protection I offer her tiny ass. An eagle could fly off with this woman. I’m still wondering how she got tangled up in this.

“What exactly was your plan, church girl?” I tell her. “Kill your husband and then run off and die in the desert?”

“I already told you my plan,” she says. “It didn’t work.”

“No backups?”

“No backups. This was up to me and God.”

“And God brought you to me?”

She gives me a skeptical look. “I don’t want to put that on him.”

“What’s your plan now that you’re with me?”

“Survive.”

Our eyes meet.

“I’m not going to hurt you.”

“I don’t believe you,” Joslin says. I don’t know why I’m so obsessed with her eyes. Growing up, all the country songs are about blue and green eyed girls, maybe grey if you’re dealing with a real artist. Staring into Joslin’s eyes, I wonder why the hell there aren’t as many songs about deep brown eyes like hers.

“What would make you believe me?”

“Nothing.”

“We’re gonna make sure your husband is dead.”

“Sounds like a good way for me to end up in prison,” Joslin says calmly, as if she accepts her fate one way or another.

If I don’t leave with her now, I don’t know what the hell I’ll do to her. More whiskey in my system and food in my stomach restores some of my reason. But I’m scared of being alone with my horny thoughts and this small woman in a room that centers around a very tempting bed.

I would make love just about anywhere to get my dick in Joslin.

“You won’t end up in prison,” I tell her. “Trust me.”

“You’re crazy,” she says.

“Not crazy, Joslin. I have a plan.”