“He takes heart medication and always gets it at a Winn-Dixie. He doesn’t like the other pharmacies. It’s the same with actual groceries. He refuses to go to any of the bigger supermarkets.”
Reaper stirred. “Sergeant at arms for the chapter? Anyone know? If Czar took off, I’d be on him immediately. If we know who it is, we can track him as well.”
“That’s a good point, Reaper,” Czar said. “You don’t let me shave without one of you checking the shaving cream.”
There was laughter, but it didn’t ease the terrible weight pressing down on her. They spent the next couple of hours questioning her about every detail of her father’s life, going as far back as she could remember. In the end, she felt worn out and drained, but somewhat hopeful. If they were that thorough, then maybe they wouldn’t be looking for the proverbial needle in a haystack.
“We’ll take the majority with us,” Steele said. “Everyone volunteered to go, and Bree and I thank you for that. Czar, I think it best if we leave your team with you and I’ll take mine with me. We’re used to working together and Reaper and Savage will—”
“I’m riding with you,” Savage said and got up. He pushed his chair back to the table, nodded at Blythe, leaned down to brush a kiss onto the top of Anya’s head and prowled out.
Savage prowled. He never just walked, Breezy decided. There was something very scary about him. His declaration was met with silence.
“Should I be worried about him?” Breezy asked. “I don’t need a powder keg.”
They all looked at her. Focused entirely. She felt familiar fingers of fear creep down her spine.
“You should worry about your man, not one of us,” Reaper said. “No one goes up against Steele when he’s pissed. No one. Not me. Not Savage. You’re sitting next to the powder keg.” He got up, held out his hand to Anya and they followed Savage out.
Steele stood next, his fingers an iron band around her upper arm, so that she rose as well. “We’re riding out at three this morning. Dress warm. We’re traveling fast. You’ll need weapons but prepare for a search. We’ll be riding through Diamondback territory and into Swords territory so no colors.”
Breezy had never heard the authority in his voice like that. He’d certainly told her what to do on occasion, but she realized that power came naturally to him. He wore it easily on his shoulders, so much so that she should have caught it, but they all deferred to Czar. They’d played up his role as the badass when they’d ridden for the Swords. He’d been the one the Swords club members feared, and that had prevented them from really seeing the others. What did Reaper mean about Steele when he said he was the one to watch, not Savage? She was very confused by the changes in all of the Torpedo Ink members.
Steele pulled her under his shoulder, his arm locking her front to his side, and took her with him right out the door, not even giving her a chance to say good-bye to Blythe or Anya.
Breezy knew she should pull away from Steele and stand on her own two feet. He wasn’t the kind of man one could give a few inches to, he’d take the mile every time, but she was trying to puzzle out how she had missed the way he carried himself with such complete confidence.
“Are you really a doctor?”
He glanced down at her but didn’t slow down on the way to his Harley. Behind them, Maestro and Keys kept pace. She didn’t hear a sound, not even the whisper of their motorcycle boots. The only way she knew they were there was the glimpse of them she caught when she looked back.
“Yes. A surgeon actually, but I had advanced training in several fields. I don’t practice here for anyone other than the club. Code makes certain I have up-to-date licenses so if I had to perform surgery on one of them, it would be legal. We’re putting together a little clinic with the latest equipment, so Blythe can bring the kids.”
She didn’t know what to say to that. It was one more reason why she didn’t belong with Steele. He was intelligent. Really gifted. Off the charts. That, she’d always known. One couldn’t be with him for even a brief time without realizing just how intelligent he really was. She had common sense, but she wasn’t book smart. She’d never had that chance. Bridges had pulled her out of nearly every school she’d ever attended. She’d been lucky to have Delia helping her figure out how to do the adult classes to get her GED.
Steele slipped onto his bike, backed it out and waited for her to tuck her hair into the helmet and climb on behind him. She surrounded him with her arms, locking her hands at his waist. The moment she did, she had the same rush that had happened earlier, adrenaline moving through her veins like a drug. Motorcycle. Steele. Freedom. In her life, on the back of Steele’s motorcycle was the only time she’d ever experienced the feeling of freedom. She’d loved it. She tried not to love it now, but when the pipes roared, and the machine vibrated, coming to life, and then they were in the wind, the exhilaration was instantaneous.
She pressed her body tightly against his and let the wind take away everything the way it had always done. They were leaving in the early morning hours to go find Zane. She couldn’t do a thing about it until then. They had a plan. She wasn’t alone, and she had a much better chance at getting her son back then she’d had before. There was something about Torpedo Ink that inspired confidence and for the first time since Zane was taken, she really believed she would get him back. Because of them. Torpedo Ink.
The moment Steele, Breezy and the bike moved together, she felt whole. She knew, because she’d had multiple talks with Delia, that needing someone wasn’t healthy. Wanting them in one’s life was okay, but she said Breezy needed to stand on her own feet. She’d done that until her father had kidnapped Zane, but she’d never felt whole. It was as if a huge piece of her was missing. Riding with Steele completed her.
Maybe it was because she was as screwed up as he was. She was a victim of abuse and knew no other life. Steele was the same way. He was complete by being in Torpedo Ink, and she was certain he would always need them. It was just possible she would always need Steele.
He didn’t turn back down the road leading to the compound but took them up to the highway. She didn’t ask. She didn’t even care. She wanted to ride. They had a lot of hours to kill before they started out and she just wanted to ride for a while to stop feeling so afraid for her son and to breathe again.
She knew Steele had already mapped out the shortest route from Caspar to New Orleans. He planned to go right through New Mexico and stop by her apartment to pick up the items on her list—mainly the earlier pictures of Zane. She had told him, during the meeting, that she could live without the photographs if they all believed someone was watching her apartment, but Steele had insisted, he couldn’t live without them.
The members of Torpedo Ink had exchanged looks, ones she couldn’t read. At the time it had felt significant, now she just didn’t care. She would when they were in New Mexico, but going down the highway, she let the roar of the pipes and the wind carry away every problem.
She blanked her mind against the images of Zane with Bridges or Junk. She had to believe he was in the hands of a woman who cared enough to try to protect a toddler. She refused to think about the pain and humiliation of Steele throwing her out or discovering him with other women. She simply allowed herself to enjoy every second on the motorcycle.
He took them to the little village overlooking the ocean. Sea Haven extended from the highway to the headlands, spreading out with numerous cute little shops and historical homes. Old water towers rose into the air, making the town quaint and authentic.
He parked the bike in front of the local market. Maestro and Keys parked right beside them and took a careful look around. She saw their gazes sweep the buildings and rooftops, the cars and street. Steele took her hand once she removed the helmet and she didn’t fight that either. She wasn’t going to allow anything to ruin the joy she got from riding.
If she wasn’t lying to herself, she had always been proud walking with him like that. Close. Hand in hand. Steele liked to touch her. When he’d been with her, he’d almost always been touching her. She’d liked that. It had made her feel cared for. Now, she knew, that was just part of who he was. It had nothing to do with her. She hoped he’d always be that way with Zane and that it gave her son that same feeling of being cherished as it had her. She wanted that for their child, especially if Steele insisted on being in his life permanently.