Steel Page 19

  She had no doubt that Steel would make it his personal mission to find “H” since the police had failed to do so.

  Now that she was in a place he deemed safe and surrounded by people he trusted to protect her, he was determined to track “that fucker” down.

  In one way, Kat was relieved by that news, in another, not.

  Her fear of “H” no longer being locked up, but Steel instead because of doing something illegal, ate at her. She didn’t want to be the cause of him being arrested for “dispatching”—the term she heard him use—“H.”

  Steel’s deep but quiet, “Gotta go,” caught her attention.

  He disconnected, shoved his cell into the side pocket of his cargo pants and then lifted a hand to her face.

  She stepped into him and his thumb brushed lightly over the bruise on her cheek while his eyes stared at her swollen, black eye. His lips flattened out and his jaw turned to concrete.

  “I won,” she reminded him.

  “But you still got hurt.”

  She lifted one shoulder in what she hoped looked like a casual move. “It happens. It’s called fighting for a reason.”

  His lips, pressed in a grim line, barely twitched. “Yeah, I know. My face has been fucked up plenty of times. Doesn’t mean I like to see you like this.”

  “Again, it’s part of the game.”

  “Game,” Steel repeated in a murmur, curling his fingers around the back of her neck and pulling her into his side.

  “You know what I mean.”

  He said nothing but she could read his thoughts just by the sudden lift and fall of his chest as he took a long, deep breath.

  She turned her face up to his. He was staring sightlessly across the well-appointed kitchen. “So, now what?”

  Steel tipped his chin down to meet her eyes. “Now we end this.” A puff of breath escaped her parted lips, but before she could say anything, he continued. “We’re going to find that fucker and end this whole thing.”

  “At what cost?” she whispered.

  “Hopefully none.”

  “There’s always a cost to end something.” And that was so damn true.

  His thumb traveled along her jawline. She winced slightly when it touched a sore spot. Leaning over, he followed his thumb with his lips, then pressed a kiss to her forehead, tightening his arm around her hips.

  How could an asshole show such tenderness?

  Easy. Because deep down he wasn’t one. It was his façade. The shield he donned from his troubled youth. A way to protect himself. Just like she had used MMA to build walls around herself, too.

  Walls to protect her from rejection. From her family. From her first crush who not only disappointed her but embarrassed her.

  “Steel...”

  “Yeah?”

  “I was wrong, you’re not an asshole.”

  His lips twitched as he lowered them to just above hers. “Yeah, Kitty Kat, I am. You were right.”

  “An asshole wouldn’t be doing as much as you are for me. Going above and beyond your duties.”

  His warm breath swept over her lips. “Kat. Just because I’m doing it for you, doesn’t mean I’d do it for anyone else.”

  “Bullshit.” She didn’t believe that now that she knew him a lot better. He had a good soul. It might be buried deep, but it was there. “Then why me?”

  Instead of answering her, he closed the slight gap between them and took her mouth. Kat groaned not only from her swollen and healing lip but the intensity of his kiss. Their tongues touched and tangled; their breaths mingled.

  Yeah, so not an asshole.

  She expected him to drag her upstairs to test out the bed in the master bedroom, but he didn’t. Instead, he released her and tucked the toothpick he’d been holding between his fingers back into the corner of his mouth.

  Since they started sleeping together, she didn’t remember a hot kiss like that between them that hadn’t ended with them both naked.

  Because of that, she looked at him in surprise.

  He must have read her thoughts because he said, “The guys are headed over here. We’re going to have a little meeting.”

  “About me?”

  “About ‘H.’”

  “I’ll get to meet your team.”

  Steel tilted his head as he searched her face. “Yeah. Just a warning, they’re all assholes.”

  “I doubt it.”

  He smirked. “Then you’d be wrong.”

  “Tell me something,” she began, garnering a cocked eyebrow in her direction. “What’s with the toothpicks?”

  “Just a habit.” The narrow sliver of wood jiggled in the corner of his mouth. “One habit replacing another.”

  “What was the original habit?”

  “Tobacco.”

  She nodded. “How long ago did you quit?”

  “Six years ago. The day I put my boots back on American soil.”

  Kat found that curious. “Why then?”

  “I needed a change. It was a good place to start.”

  “I’m glad you quit.”

  “Why?”

  She gave him a small smile. “I hate smoking and I’m glad you don’t taste like an ashtray. If you did, I’d miss out on your kisses and they’re too good to miss out on.”

  “Have much to compare it to?”

  “You already know that answer.”

  His brow rose. “Even kissing?”

  She gave him a nod. “Even kissing.”

  His grin got so big, she swore it would blind her.

  “Okay, rein in the asshole.”

  He chuckled. “Told you I was one.”

  “You don’t need to convince me.”

  She turned away and moved deeper into the kitchen and headed toward the fridge. She opened it and was shocked to find out how well stocked it was.

  “Damn,” she whispered, then shut it and turned. “Who normally lives here?”

  “No one. Jesse stocked the house with food and the necessities.”

  “Jesse?”

  “She works in the neighborhood, cleaning houses, sometimes cooking. Running errands. It’s a full-time job for her. She’s cleared a background check and has unlimited access to the compound.”

  “So, not just anyone can get past those gates.”

  “No. Not even delivery people.”

  “Is there a reason for it?”

  “There was. And while that reason is gone, it’s just better to keep everyone secure.”

  Kat frowned. “What was the reason?”

  “The MC had enemies.”

  “And no longer?”

  “Not now. Hopefully, not in the future. But the club’s expanded to wives, ol’ ladies, kids. Both the prez and my boss, Diesel, the club’s enforcer, want to keep everyone safe.”

  “Ol’ lady,” Kat murmured.

  “Yeah, same as a wife without the legal paperwork. You’ll probably meet some of them.”

  “How will they take a stranger within their midst?”

  “Since you’re with me, you’re not a stranger.”

  Kat found that curious. “I’m not with you. I’m your job.”

  “Same shit.”

  She doubted that was true.

  “Since we don’t have time for you to eat me as a snack, you want me to make you one?” She turned with a smile when she heard Steel burst out laughing.

  “Yeah, Kitty Kat, I could eat, even if it’s not you.”

  Holy shit.

  Kat had seen a lot of hot, muscular men in her day. Especially when it came to her career. But what sat around the dining room table just was...

  Pure testosterone.

  With an edge.

  A dangerous one.

  The tension in the room was thick even though she was standing right outside the entryway to the room. Maaaybe snooping.

  How could she not?

  The men who worked with Steel were in a class of their own.

  She had been introduced quickly as they entered the house and
each had paused, gave her a good once over—especially the bruises and Steri-Strips that held her skin together over her eye and cheek—scowled at the injuries and then moved on to where they were convening for their intense discussion about her stalker.

  Seeing those six men together, former special forces and who totally fit the term “badass,” Kat had no doubt “H” would soon be caught.

  She would not want to be their target. At least in the way “H” would be.

  Their deep voices circled the table as they discussed how they were going to hunt that “fucker” down and who would do what.

  Two had laptops in front of them, Hunter and Walker, if she remembered their names correctly. The tall one sitting at the end of the table, Mercy, looked scary as fuck, especially with a scar marring his handsome face. The man was too intense for Kat. Especially when he had stopped in front of her earlier, didn’t say a freaking word and just stared at the injuries on her face.

  His silver eyes had become ice. Cold. Intense. And they had sent a chill down her spine.

  If Steel could snap a man’s neck with one twist, what could a man named Mercy do?

  Kat didn’t want to know, and she was glad he wasn’t the man she pulled when she was at the underground fight. If she had, she might have actually backed out. And she was in no way a quitter.

  Ryder and Brick seemed to be the friendliest of the bunch when she was introduced to them. At least until Steel shoved Brick away from her after the man scoped her out, not only her face but everywhere thoroughly, not hiding his perusal of her chest for longer than he should have.

  Steel had practically growled Brick’s name while his fingers curled into fists.

  The man had only grinned, elbowed Steel, and followed the rest of them into the dining room.

  Kat did notice Brick was hot as hell. But then they all were. The only one who didn’t show up was Steel’s boss, Diesel, who was dealing with three baby girls. One a newborn, apparently.

  She felt like her own stalker as she listened in, but her eyes were focused on Steel, who sat facing away from her. He had changed into worn Levi’s, which fit him perfectly, his signature white tank top, which hugged his muscles, and old, worn cowboy boots. He was the reason she was having a hard time concentrating on their conversation.

  Or at least until she heard a snicker come from one of them, possibly Brick, and the words, “She’s like a fucking female version of Steel. It’s scary.”

  “Yeah, asshole, if you wanted to fuck yourself, it would be easier to keep using your fist. No strings. No drama.”

  The blood drained from Kat’s face and she pinned her back flatter to the wall just outside the dining room.

  She should move. She shouldn’t be listening in.

  “D’you see her fucking muscles? Jesus. She’s a regular Sarah Connor, isn’t she? That shit turn you on, man?”

  Kat waited to hear his answer, but Steel remained silent.

  She peeked around the corner to see Brick chicken-necking while saying in a high-pitched voice, “I don’t need no man! Everything a man can do, I can do better!”

  “She one of those?” came Mercy’s unmistakable deep voice.

  “Does it matter what the fuck she’s like?” Steel asked, his tone holding obvious irritation as he sat back in his chair and scrubbed a hand over his hair. “She’s just a fucking job.”

  The whole table went perfectly silent before it broke out in snorts and laughter. Kat even heard the table being slapped.

  “Get the fuck outta here,” one of the men crowed.

  “Jesus, keep your fucking voice down,” Steel growled.

  “Brother, she’s perfect for you. You can punch each other as foreplay. Give each other black eyes instead of rings.”

  “Shut the fuck up,” Steel grumbled. “Can we concentrate on finding this fucker so Kat can go back to LA?”

  “She’s not goin’ back to LA,” Ryder murmured, his eyes pinned on Steel.

  She wasn’t?

  Her gaze landed on Steel, too, waiting for his response.

  And waited.

  Finally, he blew out a breath and said, “Kat will do what Kat wants to do.”

  “Damn,” whispered Walker, who was sitting next to Steel.

  “Guess I need to lend you the cock cage you bought me,” Ryder responded.

  “I don’t need a cock cage, dickhead, and if I did, yours wouldn’t be big enough. I said she’s just a fucking job.”

  Ryder snorted. “Someone’s a bit cranky.”

  “Yeah, because we’re discussing Kat instead of this fucker who’s stalking her and wants to come all over her fucking face.”

  The room went silent at that and they quickly got down to business.

  Kat snuck away and left them to it.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Steel rolled over, surprised to find Kat’s side of the bed empty. He jackknifed straight up, ignoring his morning wood.

  Though, he wouldn’t be ignoring it if Kat was still in bed.

  While staying in the compound, he didn’t feel the need to shadow her as much as out in Nevada, but how she slipped from the bed without him knowing it bothered him. He must have been more exhausted than he realized.

  He stroked a hand over his aching erection, regretfully advising it that it would have to wait, as would his bladder, and got out of bed, pulling on the jeans he’d shucked last night before fucking Kat breathless.

  She had been more quiet than usual after his team left with a plan in place. He just thought she was tired from traveling, especially since she was still recovering from the fight.

  But maybe he was wrong and it was more than that.

  Leaving his jeans unfastened to give his dick some space until it decided to calm down, he hoofed it barefoot downstairs. After searching the rooms, he ended up in the kitchen where his eyes landed on something on the counter.

  She did not leave this fucking house and leave a note, did she?

  He moved closer to see it was the white envelope Berger had handed him after the fight. Kat’s locker room bonus.

  The top of the envelope was ripped open carelessly and the torn opening gaped slightly. He snagged it and peeked inside.

  He slid the check out. A cool fifty grand. Which meant, in the end, that win had brought in two hundred K.

  One night. One fight. Two hundred thousand.

  He was sure some professional boxers brought in millions per fight, but for Kat’s level of MMA fighting, a couple hundred grand was nothing to sneeze about.

  He wondered what she did with her winnings. Invest? Sock it away in a savings account?

  She wasn’t high maintenance so he knew she didn’t blow it on material things, like jewelry—she wore none—or clothes—sports bras and workout pants couldn’t set her back much. And definitely no mani/pedis. She kept her nails short for fighting and there wasn’t a bit of color on her fingers or toes.

  He stuffed the check back into the envelope and tossed it onto the counter. Beside the envelope, there was no sign of her being in the room. The coffeemaker was empty and the counters were, too.

  He sighed.

  Something was up her ass and he needed to find out what.

  When the sliding glass door from the deck opened and she stepped inside, she had her arms wrapped tightly around her middle. She came to an abrupt halt when she spotted him. Without a word, she closed the slider behind her and then turned, her bruised and partially swollen face unreadable.

  “Kat,” he began softly, disturbed by this crazy need to touch her. He curled his fingers into his palms instead.

  “This certainly isn’t California or Nevada weather. I don’t have anything to wear for this colder climate.” She vigorously rubbed her hands up and down her arms as if trying to warm up, avoiding his gaze.

  “It’s only October. PA gets much colder than this.”

  “I’m sure,” she murmured as she headed toward the coffeemaker.

  Unable to stop himself, he snaked out a hand
and snagged her wrist, pulling her to a stop. “Kat.”

  She didn’t fight him. Instead, she allowed him to pull her closer and met his gaze.

  Hers was cautious. Which made his the same.

  “What the fuck is going on?”

  “What do you mean?”

  His jaw tightened. “You wanna play games?”

  Something behind her eyes flickered before it was quickly hidden. “I’m just tired. Tired from the flight. Tired from the fight. Tired of moving...”

  “If you’re tired, why weren’t you in bed when I woke up?”

  Her own jaw shifted, and her amber eyes hit his hard when she said, “Maybe I’m just tired of this whole fucking thing.”

  He searched her face a moment longer, then let her go. He watched her carefully as she moved to the coffeemaker. “Don’t make coffee yet.”

  She glanced over her shoulder at him. “Why not?”

  “’Cause I want to go for a run.” Without a pool at Nash’s unoccupied house in the compound, he had no choice but to run to rid himself of the frustration he was feeling. Because he certainly wasn’t going to the gym right now.

  She shrugged. “So, go.”

  “I can’t leave you until we have someone to watch you.”

  “Like a child.”

  He gritted his teeth. “Like a job,” he reminded her.

  She turned away but he still caught the soft, “Right.”

  “We’re going to get someone set up while we search for your stalker, but in the meantime, I’m not leaving you alone.” He stared at her back, which was stiff as shit. “You run?”

  He hadn’t seen her run or even mention it during the last couple weeks but that didn’t mean she didn’t.

  She turned again, this time with her hands on her hips, which were encased in tight, black spats. She probably didn’t have a lot of long pants with her and the Pennsylvania weather was definitely different from where they just came from. “Not by choice. Only when Berg thinks I need to drop a few pounds because he’s afraid I won’t make my weight class.”

  “Basically, the short answer is, you run.”

  She lifted a shoulder. She wore a worn Tapout brand T-shirt instead of her normal loose tank or sports bra like she had worn in Boulder City. “Reluctantly.”