10. Steel

10

Steel

By the time Tempe meets me outside the bar, she’s back wearing the same jeans and shirt she was wearing last night. And when I glance down at her outfit, she frowns.

“It’s all I have.” She crosses her arms over her chest. “It’s not like I had a chance to pack a bag. I need more clothes.”

Glancing up at her, I realize that even though the guys had Austin pack a few things before bringing him to the clubhouse, Tempe has nothing.

“Come on.” I hand her a helmet. “We’ll grab some of your things.”

She hitches her eyebrow, drawing my attention back to the scar that cuts through it. “And put it where?”

“How much you planning on packing, princess?”

She rolls her eyes, and something about her annoyance is my favorite form of entertainment.

“It’s not just me, Jameson. My brother needs his favorite bear, a toothbrush . A booster seat for riding in your truck. I swear it’s like you’ve never been around a kid.” She’s not wrong about that. “They require all the things . I don’t know how much, except that it’s probably more than your bike can handle, Steel .”

She calls me by my road name just to pick at me, and I can’t help but chuckle at the attempt.

“Fine. I’ll have the guys take you to your place tomorrow. Just get on the fucking bike, Tempe.” I don’t like that she’s out here in the open. “You ever been on the back of a motorcycle?”

She shakes her head.

“First time for everything.” I swing my leg over my bike and start the engine while Tempe fights with the helmet. Her honey-brown hair waves out around her shoulders, and her ass wiggles as she adjusts the strap.

She’s too fucking tempting for a girl who annoys the living hell out of me half the time.

A complete contradiction. Sour and sweet. Gentle with her brother but feisty with me. Hating me one moment and cleaning out the cut on my knuckle the next.

It’s fucking confusing.

“Need help?” I ask when she’s still fighting with the buckle.

“Nope, got it.” It clicks.

Tempe is a lot like me, refusing assistance and being a stubborn asshole about it. Except on her it’s cute.

I don’t like cute.

But damn, this girl .

Tempe walks over, pausing when I reach out my hand to help her onto the bike .

“Climb on, wildfire. I don’t bite unless you want me to.”

Her eyes narrow. “Does that kind of talk actually work on women?”

“You tell me.” I wink, and even if she groans, I don’t miss she’s biting back a smile. “Watch out for the exhaust pipe. It gets hot.”

Tempe swings her leg over my bike and slides behind me. There’s a gap of space, and I sense her nerves, so I grab her thighs and tug her flush to my back. The heat of her core makes me question what the fuck I’m thinking by doing this.

I don’t let women on my bike. It gives them the wrong impression. But Tempe breaks all my rules, and when her body melts to mine, I swear it’s like she’s always belonged right there.

“Gotta hold on tight unless you want to fall off.” I move her hands to my stomach, and I swear she ignites an electrical current through me. “Lean when I lean, and we’ll be good, all right?”

Her arms circle my waist, and her chest presses to my back. “I trust you.”

Three words have never sounded more dangerous.

By the time I’m walking into the Shack, I can still feel Tempe’s arms wrapped around my body. I can still feel the quick breaths with every sharp turn. The heat of her body pressing to my back was hotter than the middle of summer in Vegas. And it has my fists clenching when the door swings open, and I’m faced with the piece of shit who had her pinned to a wall by her throat a couple of hours ago.

The Shack sits on the opposite side of the compound from the neighborhood, and it’s bigger than its name gives it credit for. The building is a large, wide-open space with a concrete floor and a few strategically placed drains. It serves one purpose, and one purpose only.

Something it’s going to live up to tonight.

My men brought Banks back here from the bar, but they haven’t been able to learn anything more than the name stitched into his Iron Sinners cut.

Not for a lack of trying, if his bloody face and the knife handle sticking out of his thigh are any indication.

Havoc stands in front of him with his arms crossed over his chest, and if I had to guess, he’s the reason Banks is missing three of his toes. Havoc is a peaceful guy so long as you don’t threaten the club. But once you do, a military war machine unleashes.

Havoc is patient, and it’s not something his enemies appreciate about him when he cuts them apart piece by piece.

One limb at a time.

“Prez,” Havoc says, not taking his eyes off Banks.

Legacy and Soul stand behind Banks, and Ghost is to the side of the room spinning a knife, watching.

Being in church or in the Shack is the only time Ghost’s full attention isn’t on one of his devices. And even if people think his road name comes from how quiet he is, the truth is closer to the things he’s done between these walls.

“Is he talking yet?”

Soul grabs Banks’s hair and tips his face to the ceiling. “Not yet. But what do you say Banks, ready to behave?”

Banks grinds his teeth, not answering, and Soul shoves his head forward again. His shoulders sink with his exhaustion as blood drips down from a gash in his forehead.

Peeling off my leather jacket, I drape it over a chair at the side of the room, circling Banks and popping my knuckles.

He’s scrawny but tall. And he was strong enough to overpower Tempe, even if the claw marks on his wrists and forearms are proof she fought back. The red gashes fuel my rage as I take him in.

Stopping in front of him, his eyes flare when he looks up at me.

Fear .

Before I got here, I’m sure he figured he had some time. Maybe he assumed his perseverance would wear my men out, and they’d let him go. But one look into my eyes, and he must be able to read my mind because there’s no coming out the other side of this after he put his hands on her. He’ll be taking a dirt nap by the end of tonight for fucking with something that’s mine.

Mine?

That’s a dangerous thought.

“Knife?” Havoc offers one to me.

But I shake my head when I’d rather use my weapon of choice—my fists .

This club is my blood, so for that reason, I give my sweat, bones, and soul for my men. A weapon is a cop-out when my father and grandfather sacrificed their lives for their brothers.

At the end of the day, I’m not Jameson.

I’m not even Steel.

I’m the flowers on the grave. The memory of what once was. Here to honor those who came before me and to pass that tradition on.

I am a Twisted King.

Not by choice, or patch, or oath. But by blood .

There’s nothing more important than my brothers.

My club.

But when I look into Banks’s eyes, and I’m reminded of the fear that flooded Tempe’s gaze when he choked her—when her eyes started to fade out—I snap.

I don’t know if it’s for my men or for the little thief and her brother, but I grab Banks by the throat and tighten my grip with all I have.

“Who sent the girl to my club?” I slam my knuckles into the side of his face so hard his eyes roll back. “Who?”

I loosen my grip just enough for Banks to choke on a breath. “Fuck off.”

“Wrong answer.” My grip tenses and his eyes bulge.

Spit trickles from the corner of his mouth as his cheeks turn bright red.

Rearing back, I slam my fist into the side of his face again, ripping open an already angry gash on his cheekbone .

The punch is hard enough that I almost lose him, so I have to slap his face and wake him the fuck up. There’s no sleeping through this.

Not until I’m done with him.

Banks blinks, coming to, and I grab him by the throat again.

“You feel that, Banks? That burning in your lungs? It’s spreading through your chest, isn’t it? Your eyes are pushing against their sockets like they’re going to explode.”

I allow him one gulp of breath before doing it all over again.

“I could do this all night. Want to know why?” I lean in, not releasing him for an answer. “Because you fucked up. And it wasn’t even for patching into the wrong club. Or being loyal to a shit leader. It’s because you tried to take what’s mine.”

From all around, I feel the guys watching me, weighing what I said. But I don’t take it back because it doesn’t matter if Helix betrayed us, Tempe is the blood of the club.

My club.

“How does it feel struggling for air like she did?” I press my thumb to his windpipe, and his mouth widens as he searches for breath. “How does it feel to be powerless? Because only a cunt uses an innocent woman as a shield and is willing to threaten a kid.”

My fingers ache, but I don’t let up. I watch the tears spilling from Banks’s eyes and appreciate every drip of spit dribbling from his lip as he chokes for air. He deserves to reap what he’s sown, and when he’s laid to rest in this unholy ground, he’ll pay for his earthly sins.

“Steel, you’re losing him.” Soul takes a step forward, but I don’t let go.

I didn’t walk in here to torture him. If he was going to give up information, he’d have done it for my men.

I’m here to end this piece of shit. To remind the world what happens when they fuck with the Twisted Kings.

Banks’s cheeks turn a shade of red that reminds me of the Painted Desert. A shade I appreciate as he stares me down through the last seconds of his life.

To the earth, we are born, and that’s where our bodies all eventually return. But our souls are another story, and as the last twitches of this asshole’s miserable life start to fade, I watch with hope that he’s descending to hell.

Banks stops wiggling, and even if his eyes are wide open, he’s no longer there.

Releasing him, I flex my fingers and let them stretch. They’re cramped from my grip, but it’s still not enough to release the tension. I wish it would have taken longer for this piece of shit to die so I could have enjoyed it.

“We could have gotten more.” Soul feels for a pulse, but he isn’t going to find one. “Seven more toes and ten fingers at least.”

“He wouldn’t have talked.” And I was done letting him fucking breathe after what he did to Tempe. “There’s a reason Titan sent him. He was low enough on the totem pole to be disposable but reliable enough that if he got caught, he wouldn’t be a liability.”

“You’re probably right.” Soul steps back .

Havoc shakes his head. “Let’s hope so.”

My men are questioning my motives. And it’s all because of the brushfire ripping through my life in the form of Tempe Evans.

“I’m right.” I crack my knuckles. “Besides, at least now we know the Iron Sinners are behind all this.”

“We could have at least kept him around long enough to see if he could tie them to the flash drive.” Legacy tucks his thumbs in his pockets.

I glance over at Ghost. “Let him worry about that.”

Ghost nods. He’s been working on it all day and getting nowhere, but I know he will. He’s never let me down.

“What do you want us to do with him?” Havoc glances at Banks’s body.

“Send a message. I want the Iron Sinners to know we’re done taking hits. No more defense. It’s our turn.”