with Blythe. She seems to navigate this stuff so smoothly. I would have been angry at my man if he’d done it, but her reasons were to protect you. You wouldn’t have told her and you would have taken the beatings if you thought it would save her from harm in some way. I would have done it. Any one of us would have.”
That was the truth. Steele’s eyes met Savage’s. Simultaneously, they both shook their heads, rejecting the idea of it. “It isn’t,” Steele said. “It’s not the same thing at all.”
“Nope,” Maestro weighed in. “Not at all.”
“Why? Because she’s the female? I’m a woman. I have the right to protect my man if he has the right to protect me.”
“That’s different and you know it, Lana,” Transporter said. “Breezy doesn’t have our background. She’s … I don’t know. Not supposed to get hit. If a man hit you, you’d have him for breakfast and not in a good way.”
“Thanks for clarifying,” Lana sang to the melody on her playlist. There was a hint of laughter in her voice. “What did you do, Steele? How did you react?”
Steele hesitated, but he really wanted Lana’s input. He needed to know how to deal with problems of trust that came up between Breezy and him. “I wanted to turn her over my knee and I made that very clear.” A part of him still wanted to go back into the house and do just that. Another part of him recognized the hurt on Breezy’s face and wanted to pull her into his arms and comfort her.
The others nodded, deeming that an appropriate response. Lana took so long to respond that Steele thought she might not.
“So, you threatened to hurt her because someone else hurt her and she didn’t tell you. I’m not altogether certain that makes sense, Steele.”
“It’s not the same thing,” Steele muttered, no longer sure if it was or not.
“You’re wrong, Lana,” Maestro said. “It’s not at all the same thing. If a man’s woman goes rogue on him and puts herself in danger, he has to make absolute certain she won’t make that mistake again.”
“There are probably better ways to make the point,” Lana sang.
During the entire exchange, Mechanic was relating the conversation between the three Swords members.
“What better ways?” Steele asked immediately. That was what he was looking for. An answer. A better way. Something to make Breezy want to stay with him always. There had to be a way to make a point without hurting her.
Again, there was a long silence. “I don’t know,” Lana finally admitted. She sounded frustrated. “You should ask Blythe,” she reiterated.
“Blythe doesn’t know how dangerous the world is,” Savage contributed unexpectedly. “She doesn’t have the experience to judge when something is potentially life-threatening.”
“Breezy withheld important information from her man,” Transporter added.
“From the club,” Preacher put in his two cents. “Lana, they’re getting antsy. Put on a little show to grab their attention. I’ve got them now. One bullet for each, take me three seconds.”
“Don’t,” Steele cautioned. “We don’t know where Zane is.”
His anxiety level was going through the roof, when he was always the calmest man. He found it was far different experiencing trauma as the father. When it was his own child. They went after pedophiles as a rule, planning out the rescue of children, both boys and girls. He had never had his heart pound, or his lungs feel raw from lack of air.
Lana rose up to her knees, her red hair a sheet of pure fire. She tossed her head back and her hair went flying, drawing attention. The men at the railing who had begun talking among themselves turned back, gazes riveted to the woman on the boat. She stood slowly, pulled her glasses off and walked toward the side of the boat, looking at the water.
Preacher had his eye to the scope of his rifle. His hands were rock steady. The first target was Donk. The big man had always been unpredictable. He would be the first to go. Ink didn’t so much as blink, his gaze in the air, rather than on the water or the three men, but his concentration was utterly focused. Maestro had dropped flat, lying in a prone position, a rifle to his shoulder, his aim, not on any of the three men, but on the door of the house. The others trained their binoculars on the backyard of the estate, that beautiful oasis the Abernathys had created, only to have