to do whatever he wants to do. I’m not in his life anymore. Whatever he says now, knowing he has a son, he told me in no uncertain terms what I was to him for that year. It wasn’t his old lady. He’s free. I’m free. We just need to focus on getting Zane back.”
She would decide what to do after her boy was back in her arms. In the meantime, she knew how to act in a club. She knew she didn’t have a say. She just had to keep the conversations away from controversial subjects, and she had to guard her heart at all times.
She hadn’t been on the back of a motorcycle in three years. Not since Steele had sent her away. He’d long since destroyed her vest, the one she’d worn so proudly declaring she was his old lady—she’d watched him do it. It had been her protection, but more, she’d been honored to wear it. She’d felt as if, for the first time in her life, someone really cared about her and she was safe. She belonged. She was Steele’s. Now she was just Breezy, Zane’s mother, standing on her own two feet. No one was taking that away from her—not even the man she loved.
“Why aren’t we just having the meeting here?” she asked, nervous to get on the bike with Steele. It was too intimate. They had been one on his bike, man, woman and machine flying down the open road.
“Steele said you were uncomfortable in the clubhouse and he asked if we’d all go to Czar and Blythe’s home to make you feel more relaxed.”
That was so Steele. He had always paid attention to the little things. He didn’t think he gave her much back in the relationship, but he noticed if she didn’t like something. She didn’t have to tell him. If she did mention something—which was rare—he knew she really didn’t like it and from that moment, she’d never been put in a position to either have to do it or be around it. That was Steele.
She’d learned to be careful before pointing out something in a window she thought was pretty. The next thing she knew, it was hers. Steele was always strange in that he seemed offhand with her in front of others, although very protective. When they were alone, he’d been very different. Now she knew why. She had to continually remind herself of how he’d thrown her out, like a piece of garbage, treating her the way the Swords members treated the club girls—and their old ladies—like trash.
She took a deep breath, feeling the pressure of Maestro’s hand slipping from her shoulder to the small of her back, all but pushing her toward Steele and his bike. As they approached, Steele turned his head toward them and her breath caught in her throat.
He looked the epitome of a dark knight. The outlaw. The man who could ride straight through hell and probably had. Everything feminine in her rose up like a tidal wave. She turned her face away, not meeting those dark, midnight eyes. She couldn’t look at him. She didn’t dare, not after what he’d said to her the night before.
She’d thought far too long about his parting shot—she needed to save him. She couldn’t. If it hadn’t been for Zane, knowing she was pregnant with Steele’s child, she might not have made it. She might have humiliated herself and run back to the life she’d known and detested because she’d been so scared. Her victories were small, but they were hard won. She was a mother and she had to put her son before anyone else—Steele included. Certainly before her own ridiculous fantasies. Already, those fantasies had come back full force. She wanted Steele to find a way to make it all right. To find a way for her to take him back. She wanted to be in his arms and have him moving in her body. She wanted him to love her.
“I would much prefer to ride in a car or truck. I can drive, Maestro, if you would return my keys, please.” She’d managed calm when deep inside she was a mass of nerves. She couldn’t get on that bike behind Steele just as she’d done every day for over a year, her arms around him, her body pressed tightly against his while his bike roared under them.
“Babe, are you kidding me?” Maestro said, one dark eyebrow shooting up. “You can’t think