Chapter 12: JOSLIN

Chapter Twelve

JOSLIN

“ P lease…” I start slowly and politely, hoping to get through this man’s head that this is a serious situation. “My husband is no better than these men. If he’s alive, he’ll kill you.”

Ex -husband if I did my job right.

Steel laughs. “If he’s alive, I’ll kill him first. Trust me, church girl… I’m not sending you back to him. I’m not sending you anywhere.”

It sends a strange feeling straight through me. I want to call it fear, and I know fear and the strange sensation I feel is similar, but spreads a warm flush through me instead of forcing me to go numb. I know this man isn’t lying about keeping me close from the way he looks at me.

His eyes are true sea-green. They’re beautiful, but deep-set in his head. He has a large, hairy body that smells way too much like whiskey right now. And makes me deeply nervous. I don’t want to go back towards Dripping Springs after what happened, but staying in this cramped motel room with Steel…

I don’t know how to explain what he just did in the bathroom. He wanted me. I couldn’t tell if he wanted to hurt me or just… have me. I just wanted him to stop. After everything with my ex-husband… I don’t need problems with a man.

I get up to start cleaning up breakfast. Steel puts his hand on my forearm. I flinch and he pulls his arm away gently.

“Don’t clean up, church girl. Not your job.”

My stomach tightens in a knot. It was always my job. And if I didn’t do that job, my husband would hurt me. He enjoyed creative punishments more than hitting me. I sit down at Steel’s command and feel better when his shoulders relax.

He gives me a stern, reassuring look and speaks slowly to me. “I promise, Joslin. Nothing will happen. I just need to clean up your loose ends before we move on.”

“Move on where?”

“Far away from the state where you committed a federal crime, church girl.”

He is way too confident about this situation. If we’re going to leave Arizona, I don’t see the point in going back to Dripping Springs.

“Right. After we march right in front of the cops.”

“Hey,” he says, putting his hand on my forearm slowly. “I will kill anyone who fucks with you. I don’t care if I have to go back to prison.”

I roll my eyes. Steel might think being a hairy, terrifying giant means I trust him, but his appearance has the opposite effect. Prison is nothing to be proud of.

“Don’t expect me to write you any letters,” I tell Steel. He laughs again. He has a deep, almost comforting country ass laugh.

“Charming, church girl. I know you would feel sorry for me and write me love letters every day.”

Love letters? This man is crazy as hell.

“Don’t bet on it.”

He winks at me and my chest has this strange flutter. It reminds me of how I felt when I had my first and last real crush at fifteen-years-old. I’m so much older now that it feels different – like I’m more hesitant to lean into the fluffy feeling in my chest.

“Ready to go?” Steel asks. “You look ready to rumble.”

“Yes. I have never felt more fashionable…”

“At least it’s modest.”

I roll my eyes at his obvious teasing. Steel could use a little bit of Jesus instead of mocking me.

“You’re treating me like a stereotype because I grew up religious, it’s annoying,” I say, punching him gently in the side of his bicep. I don’t know where that comes from. And why I playfully punch his arm without feeling any fear.

Steel just keeps looking at me with those big sea-green eyes and I get more nervous the longer he looks at me.

“It’s hot,” he says.

I get nervous when he says things like that.

“Stop it.”

“It’s true.”

“You are crazy.”

“Keep calling me that. Doesn’t stop you from being fine as hell.”

I ignore that comment, and Steel ushers me out of the hotel room. When we walk past the bathroom, my body tenses up, but he doesn’t repeat the earlier incident at all. It’s like nothing ever happened. Seraphine is on the phone when we leave, and she just waves goodbye as Steel puts the room keys on the front desk and holds my forearm as he leads me out.

“We need to get back to my bike,” he says. “I bet you’d look cute on the back.”

“I have no interest in motorcycles.”

Steel laughs. “Not yet. Once I take you for a ride, I bet you’ll change your mind.”

The truck just reminds me of the desert. Steel is in way too good of a mood puffing on that damn e-cigarette considering what we’re doing.

“We can’t just drive back to my house,” I tell him.

“Of course not,” he says. “Once I get your sexy ass in that truck, I’ll be calling club members to help me out. You’re gonna be staying at a Flying J a few miles away, pretending to work behind the counter with my cousin.”

“What’s a Flying J?”

“Gas station along the old Route 66 highway. My cousin owns the place and my second cousin works the counter. You’re gonna sit still until I verify your husband’s death.”

“You don’t know what he looks like.”

“You’re gonna help with that, church girl. Now get your ass in the truck. I told you… trust me. ”

He gives my ass a pat. Steel’s firm hand touching my ass sends a thrill right through me. I remind myself that he’s drunk as fuck and that’s why he’s touching me up like that. It doesn’t make me want to get in the truck with him.

“Can you promise at least not to drink and drive?” I call over my shoulder.

He doesn’t answer. I only hear his version of a response when I open the truck door and feel Steel’s hands lifting me into the truck.

“I can take a step up on my own.”

“Why should you, church girl?”

He pats my thigh, sending that strange thrill through me again. This man acts so comfortable around me that he scares me a little. But it at least gives me some comfort that he won’t drive me straight to the cops. I don’t want to head back to Dripping Springs either…

Once Steel gets in the driver’s seat, he pulls out his cell phone. I don’t know why I’m shocked he has an iPhone. I don’t see what number or contact name he taps on, but whoever it is answers after a couple rings.

“Southpaw wants me out at Oske’s trailer, but I’m caught up with something. I need you.”

The voice that crackles over sounds exactly like Steel’s. It’s eerie.

“Where are you?”

“Heading towards Dripping Springs. Are you far out?”

“No. Heading towards Oske’s trailer,” the voice says. “Southpaw sounds pissed.”

“Take a detour.”

“Why?”

“Fuck, Hunter. I never ask for shit.”

“I know,” the voice apparently named Hunter says. “That’s why I’m asking.”

He looks over at me and his eyes are strangely warm. It’s the first time in my life a man has ever looked at me with that much warmth.

“I need to help a friend of mine. She’s in big trouble.”

“Does it have anything to do with the mass grave situation?”

“Just get here. I’ll send my location.”

“Fine.”

He hangs up.

“Who was that?” I ask, doubting that he’ll tell me, but curious all the same. He sets his phone down, so I don’t think he’s calling anyone else.

“The only person I trust with my life,” Steel says. “My twin brother.”

This is the first I’ve heard of Steel having a twin brother. I assume his twin brother is identical and shiver at the thought of two terrifying hunks of muscle like that walking through the world. I wonder if his brother is just as rough around the edges. He must be, since he’s the only person Steel trusts with this.

I’m grateful when Steel doesn’t drive the truck much longer after making that phone call. Once he catches the glimmer of a giant Flying J gas station’s neon sign, he relaxes his grip on the steering wheel.

“Her brother was out there in the desert,” he says to me. “They took off his head. Coleton Sinclair… First cousin.”

“Who are you talking about?”

“Brinley works at the gas station. She’ll look after you tonight,” he says. “But… it might not be pretty.”

“I–

“The boss will send people to get the bodies back. That SLITLICKER character you mentioned might be a problem.”

I hate that I don’t want him to leave. The desire is definitely misplaced. Steel is just as dangerous as any other biker I could come across. But I still don’t want him to dive headfirst into danger. I have this strange attachment to his well-being – mostly because he saved my life. His broad shoulders and handsome face don’t hurt.

I wonder why he’s telling me until the liquor on his breath makes its way over to me. He would tell his secrets to a squirrel if it stood still long enough. Steel ignores the deep concern on my face as he drives the truck to a spot in the parking lot behind the air pump. Nothing you hide behind could make that truck subtle.

He sighs once he parks. “I’ll have to tell her we found him. Shit.”

“I’m sorry.”

He shakes his head. “Doesn’t matter. I’m just worried about you.”

He looks at me, and I feel that weird mixture of fear and… the other thing. The weird desire for him to not stop looking at me until I stop feeling afraid of him. Steel’s brow softens, wrinkles forming as he reaches out to me, then seemingly changes his mind and touches his lap instead.

“I trust you can handle staying here overnight?”

I nod, although I’m terrified of being anywhere near my ex-husband, even if it’s a highway gas station with protection from some outlaw bikers.

“What do I do if the cops show up?”

“Brinley can handle any cop.”

He leans over and plants a kiss on my forehead. I think he meant for the kiss to comfort me, but Steel’s lips touching my face for the first time only confuses me. His lips are soft and warm, just like his hand on my neck. But those lips are so oddly welcoming.

“Okay. I’ll handle it then.”

“We have time until my brother shows up,” Steel says. “I’ll take you in to meet Brinley.”

I’m almost too scared to hop out of the truck. Steel is acting way too calm about the fact that I killed someone. For all I know, there could be cops hiding in that Flying J ready to take me to prison. What happens then? I’d rather die in the desert than go to prison. I’m not built for prison – physically. I don’t know what would happen to me behind bars and I don’t want to find out.

Steel doesn’t give me a chance to lean into my fear. He’s on the other side of the truck before I know it and holding onto my waist to help me out. This time, he sets me down so close to him that I can make out the different shades of light brown in his facial hair, and I notice scars on his face that I didn’t see before.

His eyes are still pretty, even in this dark parking lot with nothing but fluorescent lights and a neon smile. He has a devilish smile that would make me think he had secrets even if I didn’t know that already.

“Damn it, church girl. I should have kissed you in that motel room.”

He looks down at me with an expression that’s almost angry, then he turns toward the Flying J and grabs my forearm without looking at me, dragging me along behind him. I don’t know how he expects me to respond to that. I made my opinion on us kissing quite clear.

It’s a horrible idea. We get right up to the door when Steel finally stops dragging me across the pavement like a ragdoll. He holds me in place by my shoulders, gazing down at me from his impressive height.

“I bring you proof of your husband’s death, you’re mine,” he says. “That’s all I ask…”

“It doesn’t sound like a request.”

His devilish smile sends the most uncomfortable pulse straight through me. I hate that the tightness settles between my legs and I can’t shake the feeling while he has his eyes on me.

“You’re right,” he says. “That’s the deal. I handle this. I promise you a lifetime of protection and you become mine…”

Steel reaches his thumb out, rubbing it over my lips in a slow circle before his hand falls away.

“My property,” he whispers. “That’s all I want.”

That’s all? He says that as if he isn’t asking for my life. Forever.

He wants me to trade one monster for another. His request doesn’t surprise me, but I expected him to take what he wanted from me without asking and I expected what Steel wanted to be more temporary. My heart skips a beat as I consider I might be able to wriggle my way out of the argument that way.

“You don’t want me to be your property,” I say with completely false confidence. My palms are sweating, and I’m grateful he can’t see. “You want an exotic woman in your bed for one night. Or your truck. I’m guessing you aren’t picky.”

He laughs.

“That’s not what I want,” he says. “And I’ll prove it to you.”

He kisses me on the forehead again, and opens the door to the Flying J. Something about that man’s kiss is downright ominous. But I can’t place what it is. We’re in a gas station. A public, well-lit gas station. I’ll be fine… Even if Steel is crazier than a cockroach doing the Charleston.