Steel My Heart (11 page)

Chapter 21

Emmy

The woman behind the bar was ignoring me. "Excuse me?" I called, louder this time. I waved my hand to her, but she kept wiping the glasses and hanging them in the rack above her, her expression a million miles away.

Rosie's bar had just opened when the cab dropped me out front. In my panicked state, I had almost thought I was at the wrong place. It looked different in the daylight.

It had taken me longer to leave than I thought it would. I spent most of the morning turning circles in our bedroom, looking at everything for the last time. I had my backpack from my college days stuffed with a few pairs of underwear, my customized T-shirt along with a few more tops, and a pair of jeans. The four hundred and thirty eight dollars was stitched into the lining of my handbag.

That was all I could take. All I felt entitled to take. All I wanted to take. Everything was tainted with the smell of Robert, the feel of Robert. Everything I saw reflected Robert's eyes in the mirror as he told me to watch while he raped me.

Thinking the word had made the strength go out of my legs and I had collapsed in the middle of the living room. The ceiling fan rotated slowly, high above, providing optimal airflow as it watched me gasp for breath. The ragged place inside my core throbbed.

When I finally found my strength again, I ran for the endtable and yanked the drawer out of its tracks. It clattered to the floor as I stabbed wildly at the buttons on the fan remote. The fan sped up, slowed down and the jerked to a halt, reversing its course. I felt a whoosh of air hit my face and smiled grimly.
Fuck his airflow.
I grabbed my backpack and hit the button for the elevator with satisfaction.

When I walked through the lobby, I smiled and nodded to Officer Wilkens as if nothing was wrong. He gave a friendly wave back and called something to me. But I was too keyed up to stay and have a conversation.

I needed as much of a head start as I could get.

I hoped when Robert came home tonight, he wouldn't even notice what I had taken. I hoped he would wait angrily for me to get home, furiously clutching the fan remote. I pictured him sitting on the edge of our bed, dreaming of how he would punish me. But I would never come home. Slowly, he would realize he had gone too far.

And then a few days later he would get my letter. I patted my bag to make sure I had remembered it and heard the reassuring crinkle in the outside pocket. I would put it in the mail today. I would tell him I was gone and to leave me alone. I was starting over again and he wasn't part of my life anymore.

I patted the bag over and over again as I raised my arm to summon the taxi that would drive me away from my penthouse prison. I tapped my foot on the pavement and laughed at the complete lack of cabs on the street. Of course. Unable to wait in front of the building, and aware that Officer Wilkens was watching, I turned downtown. I would start walking and find a cab to take me to the only place I knew to find J. Rosie's Cellar.

And now Rosie was ignoring me.

I squared my shoulders and walked directly into her line of sight. "Hi!" I said brightly, setting my handbag down on the bar and dropping my backpack to my feet. "Can I ask you a question?"

She looked at me with a neutral expression, until a flicker of recognition passed over her face. "The boys ain't here, honey," she answered in her broad, flat accent, still wiping and putting away glasses.

I tamped down my annoyance. "I can see that. Can you tell me where I'd find them?"

"It's not even noon yet. Doubt they'd even be up."

I gritted my teeth. I didn't have much time. "Right, I know. Where do they live?"

"Seems like if they wanted you to know they would have told you, huh?"

I clenched my sore fists in frustration. She was protecting them, this was a good sign. It would make me harder to find. I decided to take another tact. "Please Rosie. I need their help. I'm in trouble."

She sniffed suspiciously. "What kind of trouble?"

I took a deep breath, but it caught in my throat. All of the stress and fear of the past twenty-four hours came pouring free. The words came tumbling out in a sob. "My fiancé is hurting me. Did hurt me. Has been hurting me. Bad." The truth tasted strange in my mouth and I licked my lips. The throbbing pain inside of me flared to hideous life when it heard its name. Rosie widened her eyes as I steadied myself on the bar and continued. "He's going to keep hurting me. I have to get away. He's taken everything else from me. I can't go to my best friend, he knows her. He could hurt her too. But he doesn't know J. He couldn't hurt J." I heard hysteria in my voice. "Please, tell me where J. is!"

Chapter 22

J.

"Jesus that stinks!" Case backed away from the fence in disgust, holding the collar of Bonnie the guard dog to keep her from getting too close. "How long do you think it's been dead?

J. wrinkled his nose at the enormous rat, bloated and stinking in the summer sun. Its scrabbly claws were splayed heavenward dramatically, as if receiving some divine wisdom in death. Bonnie whined piteously, desperate to roll in the stinky corpse.

"Mac!" He called over his shoulder, hoping the old vet would decide not to ignore him as he normally did. J. turned to see the older man emerge at the rolled up door of the garage, beer in one hand, filthy rag in another. He was shirtless, his rangy, ropey muscles showing no signs of slowing despite the puff of white hair on his chest. He grimaced at J. in greeting. J. sighed. The old man averaged two facial expressions and eight words a week. It looked like he wasn't about to waste either on J.

"Mac, grab some gloves and a trash bag?" he called. "Dead rat!"

MacDougal didn't react, only took a long swallow from his beer. Crushing the can in his hand, he turned slowly back to the clubhouse.

"Think he'll get it?" J. had pulled his shirt up over his nose.

Case nodded. "Yeah eventually." He backed away from the dead animal and grabbed Bonnie's collar. The guard dog gave one last whine, then trotted obediently back to the clubhouse with him, settling back into her corner with a sigh. She slept most of the day to be ready for her duties at night; guarding the fence line and sounding the alarm if anyone came by. Her ferocious bark was usually enough to keep curious citizens at bay. In the year J. had been living at the clubhouse he had never seen her take someone down, but Teach told him stories.

MacDougal returned with a trash bag, but no gloves. He grimaced when the sunlight hit his eyes, but otherwise acted like handling dead rats was of as little consequence to him as crushing a beer can. He grabbed the dead animal's tail and flicked it deftly into the trash bag where it landed with a wet smack. Then he stalked back around the garage without a word.

"Well, now I feel like a complete pussy," Case observed from the doorway.

J. just shook his head. "He's gonna outlive us all. Nuclear bomb goes off it's going to be just roaches and Mac."

"The roaches will make him their king," Case smiled fondly. “He'll teach them survival skills.

J. laughed and scanned the rest of the fence line. "I think we're clear out here. I already got most of the trash that was stuck in the barbed wire."

"And I swept up the glass. Why the fuck did we use glass bottles for target practice?"

J. shrugged. "Seemed like a good idea at the time. You guys were drunk and wanted to shoot things."

"You were sober?"

"I was still on parole, asshole."

"Fuck, I totally thought you were hammered that night, my bad." He ducked as J. aimed a smack to the back of his head, the straightened back up again. "Who in the fuck...?'

The taxi was slowing down as if the driver was trying to look for an address. "Somebody's lost," J. observed. No one would be riding a taxi to this part of town. The clubhouse was the only inhabited building for blocks.

Case put his hand on his hip. As sergeant-at-arms, he was responsible for security. The upcoming visit from the Storm Riders already had him on edge. "Keep driving," he muttered, pacing slowly towards the street.

But the taxi didn't pull away. Instead it rolled to a stop. The back door flew open and a blond woman leapt to the curb. The taxi immediately screeched away.

"Who the fuck is that?" Case cried, pulling his gun from his holster.

J. knocked his friend's arms to the side, “Don't shoot, I know her!" He ran to the fence line and hooked his fingers through the links. "Emmy!" he called. "Emmy, what the fuck?"

Emmy turned to where he stood and her shoulders sagged in relief. "J.!" she cried.

"That's her?" Case marveled. "She looks like shit."

J. couldn't help but agree. Her face was streaked with tears, bloated and puffy with red-rimmed eyes. It wrenched his heart to see her like that, but then he realized the only reason why. The only reason she would be distraught and looking for him.

He rounded the perimeter at a run, bursting through the front store and down the driveway to where she stood.

"I...." she began, then collapsed against his chest.

"Hey, hey, hey," J. ran his fingers through her hair, holding her close to his chest as she sobbed quietly against his T-shirt. He silently willed his traitorous body to stop responding to her nearness, to stop reacting so quickly to her soft skin and scented hair. "I got you," he told her and the words on his lips sounded like a promise.

"I need to say it," she declared, pulling herself away and wiping her eyes. They blazed with sudden fury when she spoke again. "I left him. I did it. I got away."

J. looked at her. She was holding herself carefully, as if she were trying not to cause herself pain.

"Did you have to fight him?" he asked. He hoped the answer was no. Yesterday's lesson was meant to give her some much-needed confidence. He never believed she could go toe to toe with a bigger, stronger, angrier man.

She gave a short little laugh in response. "Let's just say things got physical." She shook her head as if trying to clear it.

"So I left. This morning after he went to work." She bit her lip nervously and ducked her head. "I needed to find you."

Her words came sudden and fast, a torrent of nervous hope. "I know we just met and I know you don't owe me anything but you were the only one who could help me J. I'm so sorry to get you mixed up in my shit, I know you just graduated and you got your own life to figure out, but Robert knows everyone in my life except you. If I went to anyone else he would find me and if he found me he would make me come back and I don't think I'm strong enough to escape from him twice." She clutched his arm, her eyes wet with tears.

"I needed somewhere safe. So I went to Rosie's and she helped me find you and I'm so sorry again but I needed somewhere safe. Can you keep me safe?"

J. felt something inside of him lurch violently askew. Without another thought he folded her into his arms. Her lips found his and for the moment it was just like his dream.

"You're safe," he murmured as he drowned in the softness that was her. "I promise you're safe."

Chapter 23

Emmy

I don't know what I was picturing when Rosie mentioned a clubhouse. But this was something else entirely.

The building looked like it had begun its life as a brick rowhouse. But it had metastasized from there, pieced together like Frankenstein's monster. The rest of the rowhomes on the block must have been knocked down ages ago, leaving it to stand as a lone sentinel on an entire city block. A metal dome rose behind it, giving it the look of a huge beetle spread across the too-large parking lot that was surrounded by chainlink fence topped ominously with barbed wire. There were no buildings around, no signs of life anywhere though the noise of cars and trucks were everywhere above us. The effect was eerie.

The faded sign out front read "Steel Cycles." J. led me through the front door, into a cramped little shop filled with pieces of chrome and metal that I didn't understand. And old black man leaned against the counter leafing through a catalog. I recognized him from the bar. J. had called him Teach.

"She a customer?" Teach asked, though I thought it was painfully clear that I didn't know the first thing about motorcycles.

"Teach, this is Emmy." J. ducked his head. I could tell he respected the old man and was choosing his words carefully. "Emmy, this is Teach. He used to, ah, teach my class."

"Oh are you a professor?" I asked, extending my hand.

He clasped my hand in his. It was dry and warm and rough with callouses. His eyes were tinged with yellow in the corners but looked at me with sharp interest. "No, I'm just a man who knows things," he replied. He set my hand down carefully on the glass counter. "What brings you to Steel Cycles, Emmy?" His tone was measured and polite, but I heard the note of suspicion as clear as day.

J. cleared his throat as I opened my mouth. I snapped it back shut again as he spoke. "Emmy needs a place to stay. She's on me."

Teach looked at J. sharply. I couldn't read his expression. "On you?"

J. nodded seriously. "On me."

The tension suddenly left the room. Teach smiled and gestured towards the back door. "Welcome Emmy. I'm just going to say "I'm sorry" right now and let it stand for the rest of your time here, okay?"

I chuckled nervously and followed J. through the door into the huge metal expanse of what I now realized was a domed garage. Motorcycles lined the walls, all in various states of completion. Off to the left, low partitions sectioned off a portion of the huge room, leaving the top open to the ceiling. I followed J. as he opened the wobbly, makeshift door and gestured in explanation.

"So uh, here's the garage. And in here, this is where we bunk." I scanned the cramped quarters, amazed that a huge man like J. could fit onto one of those tiny, sagging cots. "Bathroom is over to the right, though I would recommend going in there as little as possible. Kitchen area's over there, though we kind just ignore that until Teach's old lady comes by and yells at us for making it a mess." He paused, scanning the space, looking everywhere but directly into my eyes. "And that's pretty much it."

I looked around me. I had pictured something so much...more. "You all live here?"

"A few of us do, yeah." He sat down on the cot and it squeaked in protest. "It's not exactly homey, but it's home.

I sat gingerly down next to him, grimacing at the protesting shriek. "What do you do here?"

"Well I work here, mainly. Steel Cycles, you saw the sign. We do custom work, me and Teach, mainly, but a few of the other guys know basic wrenching."

I realized that I knew almost nothing about him. In all the limited time we'd had together, all I had done was talk about myself. I felt suddenly guilty for presuming to sit here next to him when I never even knew his last name. "Thank you for letting me stay," I whispered, swinging my legs awkwardly.

His warm hand closed around my leg. My heart jumped and began thumping so loudly I was sure he could hear it. "I'm glad you came." His voice was warm but his expression was serious. "I'm glad you got out."

His fingers clutched into my thigh, gripping me tightly. I sucked in my breath at the feel of his touch and the sudden realization of what I had done flooded me with panic. My heart threatened to jump right out of my throat. Robert would look for me. Robert would find me. I needed to mail the letter, to get him off of my trail.

"Is there a mailbox around here?" I jumped to my feet.

His expression was unreadable. "You want to mail something?"

I felt silly. Here I had run to him, sat down on his cot, let him touch me and now I was acting like a nervous virgin. The throbbing inside of me flared to life, reminding me. Reminding me of what could happen, what would happen again if I didn't make sure Robert was gone from my life forever. I tried to slow my heartbeat, to make sure my words made sense.

"I wrote him a letter." I unzipped my backpack and pulled it out. "I don't want him looking for me. I want him to know it's over." The envelope felt thin and unsubstantial given the weight of what it contained.

J.'s mouth twitched and I thought I saw relief in his eyes. "You can put that in the outgoing mail behind the desk, Emmy. Mailman'll be here tomorrow morning."

I was so keyed up that it took me a second to hear what he said. "Tomorrow?"

"Saturday," J nodded. "Usually comes around eleven. Teach'll be up, even if the rest of us aren't."

I looked at his warm brown eyes. The emerald shards were muted in the dim light of the bunkhouse, but their magic still held me close. I was filled with sudden gratitude. He saw how I was frozen in place and stood up and plucked the envelope from my trembling fingers.

"Here, I know where it is," he said soothingly and walked over to the entrance to the store.

His broad shoulders looked wide and strong enough to carry any burden. He looked like he could lift me easily. The painful throbbing inside of me gave way to a different throbbing. Something much more pleasurable. I clenched my fists, wavering inside of my head. I wanted to kiss him, but I also wanted to run away. I wanted him to touch me, to hold me. I wanted to scream and sigh. I looked down at my feet and saw that I was bouncing on my toes.

He came back into the room and saw me there, bouncing like an excited child. "You okay?" he asked, suppressing a smile.

I bounced again. "I don't...know. I don't know what's wrong with me. It's like I can't stop moving."

He set a hand on my shoulder, pressing down firmly until his strength overwhelmed mine and I had to stop bouncing. "I get it," he nodded. "You're still panicking. You're safe now, Emmy. Ain't nobody gonna mess with you when you're here."

"I believe you," I ventured, then held up a trembling hand. "But my body doesn't."

He grabbed my hand and I was suddenly pressed against his chest. "I know how to fix that," he murmured, brushing my hair back from my face.

When his lips crashed into mine, my eager hands suddenly had something real to grab onto. I clutched at him, feeling the strength under his skin. His tongue met mine and we danced a frantic dance, crashing into the thin walls and banging into the metal cots. His arm shot out, slamming the flimsy door shut and shooting the bolt. The whole partitioned wall vibrated loudly, masking the sound of the moans I only just realized were coming from me.

I swear I've been kissed before. But never like this. I have never felt the world come crashing down to a pinpoint. I have never had the cacophony of thoughts that always tumble through my head be silenced like this. I have never felt my insides dissolve and melt away. I have never felt the spreading warmth course through me, turning me to a ragdoll, robbing me of my ability to do anything but yield to his lips on mine.

I pressed into him, eager to melt myself away. He pulled me closer and I felt the rising urgency of his need.

My stomach lurched and I pulled away, cheeks flaming.

"Hey," he whispered. His mouth was open, panting and gasping, but his brows were furrowing in concern. "What's wrong?"

I couldn't say. It was too humiliating. "I'm sorry," I shuddered, and sat on the edge of the cot. I felt the lump of nausea rise to my throat, and the pain flared to life in my core. "I'm sorry, I don't want to lead you on, I'm sorry," I realized I was babbling and clamped my mouth shut.

He tensed his shoulders, balling his hands into fists. I was momentarily terrified to see the anger rise on his face. "That fucker," he hissed.

I was confused. "What?"

He stalked away, his back to me, pacing like an animal in a cage in the small space of the bunkhouse. Exhaling loudly, he turned back to me and his face was composed. "Okay. I get it Emmy. I won't go too fast." He sat down next to me, near, but not touching me. I could feel the heat rising from his skin.

I swallowed. "I'm sorry," I repeated. "I don't know why I did that. You didn't have to stop."

He looked at me, the anger flooding back into his face. "Of course I stopped. What do you think I am?"

I shrank back. "I don't think you're anything. I think you're amazing. I shouldn't have led you on like that...."

He caught my arm, the emerald in his eyes blazing at me. I bit my tongue. "Emmy stop it. Listen to me right now. You don't owe me anything. Least of all that, you understand?"

It was the conviction of his voice that convinced me more than his words. Something inside of me shifted. "Can we start again?" I heard myself say. I placed my hand on his thigh, lightly. Just resting it there for the moment to register how my body would react. He looked at my hand and deliberately leaned back on the cot, propping himself up with his hands, letting me take control. I shifted closer to him, pressing my shoulder into his. He looked up at the high ceiling and exhaled, but he didn't move. I pulled my legs up under me and knelt up on the cot.

Taking a deep breath, I swung my leg over him so that I was straddling him, and settled into his lap. He remained motionless, though I could feel the tension ripple through his taut abdomen.

"Hi there," I whispered, and bent my lips to his neck. He sucked air in through his teeth as I brushed my lips down the strong muscles of his neck and buried my face where it met his shoulder. Inhaling his sun-warmed scent, I kissed him lightly, easing my hands up his back. He vibrated slightly, a little hitch in his breath, and the feeling captivated me. Taking one of his hands into my own, I placed it deliberately at my waist.

He raised his eyebrows in a mute question that I silenced with a gentle kiss. His full lips met mine. I deepened the kiss, circling his tongue with mine, tasting him slowly and on my terms. I heard a soft noise that could have come from either of us. He lifted himself a little, snaking his hands up to my shoulders . Holding me gently. Cradling me. Letting me explore every inch of his mouth with my tongue. As I tasted him, my hunger grew.

The gentle insistence that had prodded me into his lap now buzzed wildly. My hips moved on their own, pushing against him, wanting more, needing to feel his body against mine.

He must have read my mind, because he yanked his shirt off with a sudden violence, revealing the tattooed landscape of his deeply muscled chest. I put a small hand against his warm chest, feeling his heart beat strongly beneath the muscle. My skin on his skin made me gasp slightly.

"What?" he wondered, following my gaze.

"I'm so pale," I smiled, brushing my hand across the warm chocolate skin.

"You need some color in those cheeks," he agreed and I was suddenly on my back looking up into his eyes. "I'll stop if you want me to," he promised, his lips inches from mine.

I pressed myself upward.

"I don't want you to," I murmured, and pulled his face down to mine. But he had other ideas. His fingers slipped below my waistband. I gasped in surprise, but his lips on my neck turned it into a gasp of pleasure. A low growling sound emanated from his throat, and he delved his exploring finger deeper. I closed my eyes, pressing myself into his hand, letting him closer and closer to the part of me he sought.

The brush of his finger met the ragged wound Robert had left me with. I tried to hide the pain, but the hiss escaped my lips. I sat up suddenly as the searing pain flared to life again, robbing me of the release I so craved.

J. jumped back like I had scalded him. Hot, furious tears burned my eyes and I knuckled them away hastily, before he could see me and think it was anything he had done.

But I was too late. "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean, I shouldn't have...." His face was a contorted mask of hurt and confusion, while his desire pressed futilely against his jeans. Heat flamed ferociously in my cheeks and I turned away from him. Away from his concerned eyes. Away from the humiliation. Away from the frustration of having to stop when it was the last thing in the world that I wanted.

I heard a noise behind me. The creaking of the door and the rush of cool air let me know that he had left. I studied the wall through my tears. It was plywood, hastily painted. I could still see the streaks and brushstrokes. A long drip mark was right at my eye line. I knuckled away a tear angrily and focused on that drip. It bothered me. Someone should have noticed it by now. It shouldn't still be hanging there, frozen in mid-tumble down the wall. I pressed my index finger to it, pushing in. It was still soft in the bead. By pressing in, I saw I could smash it in with the rest of the paint. Pulling my finger away, I saw that my fingerprint was now indelibly marked into the wall.