Fucking hell.
“You probably broke your thumb,” Steele commented, casual as all fuck. “That’s what happens when you don’t form your fist properly.”
“Wh-what?” Bree’s eyes widened further, and her face went ashen.
Steele just shrugged. “Probably. You shouldn’t be driving until you get it checked out, though.”
“It’s fine,” I snapped, my irritation boiling over. Not at Bree—she’d only been sticking up for me like a legit badass. She just had no clue what she was doing, and now the guys were going to exploit her injury for their own gain. Typical. “I’ll drive,” I announced, indicating to Bree’s car again. “Just get in; I’ll take you to a clinic to get checked out.”
Everyone stared at me in alarm at that. Everyone, including Archer.
“You’re not driving,” Archer told me, his tone harsh and final. I knew why, too, and fuck if I didn’t agree. But my stubborn pride wouldn’t budge to make room for my PTSD over and dislike of driving, so no. Fuck that.
“Yes, I am,” I replied, cocking a brow at him. “Bree, let’s go.”
She shook her head, and my heart sank.
“I’m sorry, girl. But I know how you are about driving on the best of days, let alone when you’re all… you know.” She wrinkled her nose at me and shot a seriously unsubtle look toward the guys. I wanted to argue, but tears were trailing down her cheeks. The way she held her hand told me she was really in pain.
“Kody will drive Bree to the clinic and get her checked out,” Archer announced, giving orders like I gave a shit about his opinions. Spoiler alert, I didn’t. “And I—”
“Can go meet Jase like you’re supposed to,” Steele finished for him. “Come on, Hellcat. I’ll drive you home.” He plucked Bree’s keys from my fingers, then tossed them to Kody and wrapped his fingers around my wrist. He had me halfway across the parking lot before I could even formulate a protest.
I dug my heels in, wrenching my wrist out of his hold. “Stop manhandling me,” I snarled. “I don’t need you to drive me. I can call an Uber.”
Steele blew out a long breath like I was throwing a toddler tantrum in public, then arched his pierced brow at me. “That’s not an option, Hellcat. It’s me or Arch, your choice.”
I glanced over my shoulder to see Bree’s car pulling out of the parking lot already with Kody behind the wheel. Archer still remained, though, leaning against the door of his black Viper staring at Steele and I. What the fuck was his problem? Kody and Steele, I understood. They wanted to apologize and make amends—if such a thing were ever possible—but Archer? He wasn’t sorry. I could see it in his cold blue eyes.
But still, there was no way I wanted to be stuck in his car’s small interior alone with him, so I took the lesser of two evils and reluctantly followed Steele to his bike. Thank fuck he’d brought his bike and not one of their cars. At least this way he couldn’t talk to me while we drove.
5
I tried to hold myself aloof as I slid onto the back of Steele's motorcycle, but the second my thighs pressed against his and my fingers touched the leather of his jacket... I crumbled.
Steele kicked the engine over and smoothly cruised out of the SGU parking lot with my arms wrapping tighter around him by the second. I almost didn't even notice that though I'd given him no directions to my new apartment, he seemed to know exactly where to go.
I'd put my trust in him that he'd take me home and not to their house, and apparently, he was going to do the right thing. For once. He didn't try to talk to me as he drove, and he didn't comment on the way my body stayed glued to his back like a second skin. When he pulled up in front of my apartment building, I took a second to pull my shit back together, and he didn't rush me.
Nor did he push the advantage. He and Kody were basically opposite sides of the coin in their approach to my anger.
"Thanks for the ride," I muttered, releasing his leather jacket with physical effort before sliding off the bike. I started to walk away, but he snagged the sleeve of my sweater, halting my escape and pulling me around to face him.
I heaved a reluctant sigh, and he took his helmet off to meet my eyes with concern shining from his own gray gaze.
"Hellcat..." he started, sounding pained. I held my hand up, silencing him.
"Stop calling me that, Steele. That's a nickname for someone you care for. Someone you trust. I'm neither of those things to you, and you’ve made that abundantly clear." Fresh pain rippled through me at those words from my own lips, but fuck it. Wasn't that the truth?
Steele's brow creased, but he didn't argue with me. He knew he'd fucked up.
"Why here?" he asked instead, indicating to the apartment building behind me. It was a new build and considerably nicer than I'd have expected from a Reaper-owned property. Then again, maybe I'd been letting gang stereotypes get to me. "This isn't safe, MK."
My heart sank when he called me MK and not Hellcat, even though that's exactly what I'd just told him to do. Stupid heart didn't know what was good for it.
"I disagree," I replied, folding my arms defensively. "In fact, I'd say this is probably the safest place for me right now."
Steele's shoulders sagged. "You know that's not true. You're safe with us."
I scoffed. "Am I, though? Because I've nearly died three times under your watch." It was a low blow, and I knew it. The stricken look on Steele's face made me want to immediately take the words back, but I couldn't. I wanted him to hurt because I was still in agony from his betrayal.
Pursing my lips, I sucked in a strengthening breath. "Zane offered me a place of my own, and considering my husband isn't providing me access to my finances, I was left with few other choices."
Steele sighed and scrubbed a hand over his buzzed-short hair. "Yeah, I get it. Just be careful, okay? Zane and the Reapers, they don't care about you. Not like we do. They just see you as a means to an end. A bargaining chip."
I shrugged, bitterness rising in my throat. "I think I prefer to be a bargaining chip than a possession."
His jaw tightened and his hand balled to a fist, but he didn't disagree with me. No matter how much he clearly wanted to.
I turned to walk away again, needing to create some physical distance between us. The longer I stood there talking to him, the fresher the memories were becoming—and not the ones that would help me maintain my righteous outrage, either. They were the memories of all the sweet things he'd done or said, of the gentle music he’d played while I slept in his bed, or of the way he’d worshipped my body.
"Madison Kate," he called out as my hand reached for the glass door to the foyer. I paused, turning slightly to look back at him, still straddling his black motorcycle. "I understand that you need time and space right now, but you need to know... I'm not giving up on us. Not now, not ever." My pulse raced and my chest tightened. "I know I fucked up, we fucked up. But we're not going anywhere, and we'll do whatever it takes to fix this."
Frustration reared its ugly head, and I let it. Better that than the alternatives. "You can't fix this, Steele." I flung my arms out wide, trying to encompass everything that was broken. "Sometimes you just need to write off the truck and start over."