He was already walking her over to his Harley. He reached into a compartment and pulled out a jacket. She stepped back, her breath coming in a ragged protest that hurt her lungs. He shook it out. It didn’t say Swords. It didn’t say Property of. It simply was a denim jacket. Still, it was his. Steele’s. The moment she put it on she’d do nothing but breathe him in.
He stood there unmoving, holding out the jacket to her. Breezy lowered her lashes and took it, telling herself she was doing this to get her son back. She just had to get them all moving to find him. Once they did, she knew Steele. Once he’d made up his mind to go after Zane, nothing would stop him until he had his son. Then she’d have to figure out how to get Zane away from him and disappear again.
Swallowing her protest, blood thundering in her ears, she stepped close as Steele slipped the sleeve over her left arm, wrapped her up and then she found herself sliding her right arm into the other sleeve. That put her squarely in front of him. His hands dropped to the metal buttons.
Breezy wanted to protest, but no sound would escape. She should have remembered the way he did this. He always held her coat or sweater for her and when she was in it, he was the one who buttoned it. Before, what seemed a million years ago, his actions had thrilled her. Now she could barely breathe.
He couldn’t touch her like this. He couldn’t bring back those memories. She knew she was weak when it came to Steele. He was in every dream. Every waking thought. Zane had his eyes and his smile. He was already showing bits of his personality. Steele said he needed her. Breezy knew herself very well, and she needed to be needed. It was that simple. She wanted to make a difference in someone’s life. She thought she had to Steele.
“Don’t, baby,” Steele whispered, cupping her chin in his palm. He brought her head up, so she was forced to look into his eyes. “Don’t think about anything but the two of us getting our son back. That’s our first priority. We can do that. We’re a good team. We always were, and I know you remember that. Let’s get him back and sort out the rest later.”
She could drown in his eyes. That deep, deep, dark blue. So blue one could get lost there. She nodded mutely because Zane was the only thing that mattered. She’d die if she had to in order to get him to safety. She’d do anything to get him back.
Steele bent slightly to brush a kiss over the top of her head. She had thick hair. Very thick. It didn’t matter. She felt that kiss, that soft touch, all the way down to her toes. She told herself she had no business feeling anything but stark terror. For the first time in three years, since the last time she’d been in Steele’s presence, she remembered what it was like to feel feminine. Like a woman. It was the last thing she wanted or needed.
He caught her hand, led her to his bike and swung his leg over in the casual way he had, the one that she’d always thought was so cool. “Use the helmet, Bree.”
It was her helmet. He’d bought it for her. She hesitated, wondering how many other women had used it. She hated feeling jealous, even just a momentary flash. She didn’t want to be that woman. She should be a decent ex, after all they shared a son.
“Haven’t had another woman on my bike, sweetheart. It’s never going to happen. That’s your place. Put the helmet on and let’s go. The sooner we hash out how to find him, the faster we get him back.”
His voice caught at her. She wished she could see his face as she pulled the helmet over her head and tucked in her hair. He caught her hand, put it on his shoulder and waited. She slid in behind him, closing her eyes when her bottom settled on the seat. It felt natural. Right. Like she belonged.
Steele’s body was warm. Too warm. They were surrounded by cool air—fog coming off the ocean—but it didn’t matter. The moment she settled behind him, heat was there, warming her as nothing else could. She didn’t know where to put her hands. She’d always wrapped her arms around him and gotten as close as possible. Now, she was afraid to do that. Afraid it would be too much, and she’d never recover.
Steele reached for her hands and brought them around him. “Hold on, babe. Tight. I’ve lost my son, I’m not chancing losing you. We’re going to get him back.”
That was firm. She laid her cheek against his back, allowing her body to settle against his. That was a mistake. Her body knew his. It knew his bike. The moment he started down the road, the others riding around them, the sound of the pipes, the wind tearing at her body, his heat, the feel of his finger stroking the back of her hand, was all too much. Her body melted into his of its own accord.
Breezy had forgotten what it was like riding in the wind. Riding in a pack. Feeling freedom. She had ridden with Steele when he was pretending to be a member of the Swords, but each time they’d gone out, these very men had surrounded him. They’d been wearing Swords colors, but they had been there to protect Steele. She knew that now. Even then.
She made herself look at the world, the ocean going by, whitecaps high, waves splashing against cliffs. Trees and sometimes homes. The fog touched them, a dense mist that rose like a darker cloud from the great expanse of water much farther out and traveled like a reaching hand with fingers outstretched. A little shiver went through her and she pressed closer to Steele. Immediately his hand dropped down to cover hers.
Everything she did communicated her emotions to him. It had always seemed to matter to him just how she was feeling, and that had been one of the reasons she’d thought she meant so much to him. She’d noticed that he was very observant. He caught details, even small ones, others seemed to miss. The thing was, she had to keep reminding herself, it wasn’t just her he was like that with. She wasn’t anyone special. Her son was. He wanted her son. She had to keep her guard up and tell herself a million times a day, if necessary, that she wasn’t anyone special to him and she couldn’t save him at the expense of herself. She had Zane. He was the most important person in her life.
She’d forgotten how much she loved to be flying down a road, a highway, anywhere, on the back of Steele’s bike. He seemed to own the road. He drove with complete confidence, inspiring immediate trust in him. Her body moved with his as if it was born to be there. Each movement was perfect together as if the three of them shared the same skin and were one entity, not three separate ones. Man. Woman. The Harley.
She pressed herself deeper against Steele, biting back a little sob. Her emotions were all over the place. She couldn’t allow herself to think too much about Zane. If she did, she’d lose all control. She was terrified that her father would beat him the way he had her. She could only hope that whatever woman he’d forced to care for her baby would do her best to protect him.
Breezy tried to shut it off, that flow of terror that left her unable to breathe properly or think. She wanted to scream. Just open her mouth and scream out her hatred of the Swords, of the clubs, of the men and women who allowed such ugliness to be perpetuated against children.
Before she realized it, they were off the main highway and going through ornate gates to what appeared to be a very well-manicured farm. Through a flood of tears she desperately tried to control, she caught glimpses of a house in the distance off to her left, but they continued on the winding road in the direction Steele had set.
Eventually he slowed the bike and she found herself looking at a very large two-story house with a wraparound porch and a large parking area. There were six bicycles parked neatly under a roof that enclosed the space between a garage and the house.
Her heart clenched hard. There were children here. There were children’s bikes among the adult bicycles. One of the roll-up doors on the garage was open and she could see three small dirt bikes parked inside along with a sporty little car and a larger RAV4.
Steele shut down the bike and she took a deep breath, struggling to get herself under control. It was one thing to sob like a child going down the highway in the fog, it was another to face him and his brethren doing it.
She put her hand on his shoulder and forced her legs to hold her up after the experience of riding. Turning away from him, she removed the helmet.
“Bree. Look at me.”
She shook her head. “I can’t do this right now. I can’t lose it in front of everyone. Give me that, Steele. I need you to give that to me.” Her voice trembled because she was trembling. Her baby. She wrapped her arms around her middle, feeling sick. He was alone. Scared out of his mind. Did he think she’d abandoned him? “He’s so little. He’s never known anyone but me. I’ve never even raised my voice around him. Not once. He has to be so scared. He saw them hit me. He saw them, Steele. What if they—”