Steel Me Away (3 page)

J.

J. opened the ancient leather toolkit and poked his tongue into the corner of his cheek.  The wrenches arrayed in front of him made no sense for a moment.  He knew why.

Emmy's scent floated over to him from where she sat perched on a workbench.  She was leafing through part catalogs, looking thoughtful and pensive.  Her pale blond hair tumbled around her shoulders, already puffing into waves from the humidity.  He liked it that way.  It made it easier to grab hold of when he ran his fingers through.  He imagined the strands snarled tightly in his fists as he moved above her, her eyes opened wide while she cried out his name.

Damn, he was getting hard just thinking of it.

He looked back down at his tools.  There was a lot of work to catch up on.  The week he had spent with her in the hotel had set him back at least three weeks in orders.  Case had considerately done the routine maintenance stuff, but only Teach and J. could handle the detailed work that was the bread and butter of the shop. 

And Teach was slowing down these days.
J. didn't want to think that thought.  It felt like a betrayal, but it was true.  His mentor wasn't able to handle the workload he once could.  J. knew it was up to him to pick up the slack.

If he could only tear his mind from Emmy long enough to remember what size socket he needed.

"You have been staring at that wrench set for ten solid minutes," Case said.  "I've been timing it."

J. was startled to see the big man over his shoulder.  "You scared me.  What're you, some sort of ninja now?"

Case struck a Bruce Lee pose, then grimaced.  "Goddamnit."

"Ouch."  J. couldn't stop the crash of guilt over the pain his best friend was enduring.  It nagged at his pride that Case was hurt defending him.

"It'll be fine."  Case brushed it off.  "Besides, I'm pretty sure I broke his nose for it."

"Good."  J. didn't know what else to say.  The awkward moment was new to him.  In the year he had been with the Sons of Steel, he had never once run out of things to say to Case.  "Um...."

"Well said," Case answered, dryly.

"Fuck you."

"How would you even have the energy?" he grinned and shot a pointed look over to where Emmy was sitting.  Her eyebrows were furrowed in concentration, her eyes darting rapidly over the descriptions of aftermarket parts.  "You two haven't stopped since we sprang you from jail."

The memory of being arrested for "kidnapping" Emmy still hurt too much to revisit.  He pushed it down into the vault where he kept all the other bad memories.  "Can't help it with her," he said instead.

"I like her," Case nodded.  "Sweet.  Great tits too."

"She's sweet but she knocked her ex on his ass.  Her knuckles are all bruised and swollen." J couldn't keep the note of pride out of his voice and Case noticed.

"That's a pretty good combination.  And when you add those tits into the mix...."

"Stop talking about my girl's tits.  I can't punch you until your ribs heal."

Case laughed, then grabbed his side again.  "Dammit!  I need to just not talk to anyone today."

"Oh, could you please?" J. begged sarcastically.

"Asshole." Case wandered towards the front office, shaking his head.

J. looked down at his tools again.  He really needed to get this order started.  He was going to.  Right now.
Instead he went to Emmy.  Her smell beckoned him.  He remembered watching the old cartoons on the wood paneled TV set in his mom's living room.  Where a smell would grab the cat by its nose and float him over to the apple pie cooling in the window.  He was doing the same damn thing.

"What are you laughing about?"  Emmy asked him.

J. shook his head, unsure how to explain her effect on him.  "At you reading parts catalogues. "

She grinned and set the thick book down.  Wiggling down to sit at the edge of the workbench, she wrapped her legs around him and slid her hands into his back pockets.  He was hard for her instantly.

"I'm trying to love what you love," she explained. 

"I love
you
," he rasped.  He grabbed her by the ass, lifting her from the workbench.  She wrapped herself tightly around him and kissed his neck as he carried her back to the bunkhouse.  

She was already wet and ready when he spread her legs, but he knew he should hold back and go slower.  There was no denying his desire though.  Her eyes flew wide open as he pushed himself inside of her in one hard thrust.  The gasp that tore from her throat inflamed him even further.  He took her quickly and roughly, his need drowning out any pretense of gentleness, but she matched his intensity with that of her own, biting and clawing at his neck and back.  She arched her back to meet each of his thrusts halfway, their bodies slamming into each other with a wet smack.  When he felt her clench and twitch underneath him, he let himself go with a roar and they both crashed over the edge together. 

They lay there panting for a moment.  "I think I may need a nap," she whispered, gasping.

He pulled the sheet up over her, allowing himself a quick squeeze of her generous breasts before covering her completely.  "Go ahead," he murmured, inhaling the scent of her hair. "I need you rested and ready for next time."

"You're gonna kill me," she said again with a sleepy smile.

He kissed her forehead and slid off the cot to yank his jeans back up over his narrow hips.  It was her perfect balance of sweetness and sexiness that compelled him so completely.  He had never felt like this before.

When he emerged from the bunkhouse, Crash was leaning casually against the plywood wall.  He held his hand up for a silent high-five.  After an inward argument, J. returned it.  He was in love.  It was a victory.  Why not celebrate it?

Emmy

I didn't mean to fall asleep, but J. had me exhausted.  When I woke up in the bunkhouse with the sheets all tangled about me, I had couldn't help but slide my hands back down to where he had just been.  The warm rush that greeted me set my heart racing again.

I wandered back out of the bunkhouse and leaned up against the doorway.  He was working, kneeling next to an expensive looking motorcycle with a spread of tools in front of him.  When I looked around the clubhouse, I realized everyone was hard at work on one project or another.  Case was stacking boxes in spite of his ribs.  Crash was marking sheets of inventory, his lips moving in silent concentration.  I think it was Mac's legs that poked out from under the club's supply van because I couldn't imagine Doctor D. being able to wedge his gut under there.  I was proven right when I heard his voice float out from the office. 

I couldn't hear what he said, but I heard Teach's voice rumble a reply.  Whatever it was sounded serious.  Probably something about the Storm Riders.  I knew Teach was working peace negotiations, and from the sound of his conversation, things weren't going well. 

A noise from the kitchen sent me to Mallory's side.  "Do you need help with anything, Mal?"  I asked, eager to reclaim that useful feeling I had had when I helped with breakfast.

"Nope, Emmy, but thank you."  She rinsed the last mug and set it in the dish drain.  "I just finished."

"I can wipe down the counters," I offered.

She pursed her lips.  "I like things a certain way.  I know they won't stay that way with this bunch of savages, but I at least like to try."

I stepped back.  "Okay, well, let me know if you think of anything."

She nodded, already scrubbing a stain with single-minded focus.

I wandered back into the garage, unnoticed, and found myself a stack of boxes to sit on.  Picking at my fingernails, I tried to think of something I could do to be useful.  It was an odd, restless thought.  Too similar to how I used to feel during the long, drawn-out days spent rattling around in the penthouse waiting for Robert to come home. 

I slid down from my perch to get away from that memory.  As I did, the top box came with me, falling to the concrete floor with a loud thump.

"Shit."

J. was at my side in an instant.  "You okay?"

"I'm fine," I muttered ruefully, "but I don't think whatever's in there is."

He opened the top flap and peered inside, then laughed.  Reaching in, he pulled out a plain black motorcycle helmet.  "If this can't handle falling on the floor, then we got a real problem."

"Why do you have a box of helmets?  You don't even wear one."

"Custom work.  We paint 'em the same colors as we use on the bike.  Make you all matchy-matchy."

I nodded in understanding as I looked into the box with relief.  "You should use one, you know," I admonished J.  "Isn't it the law?"

He made a small snorting noise.  "Not in Pennsylvania.  One of the good things about living here."

"Well, how about so you don't die?"

"I'm not gonna die.  I can handle my bike."

"It's not you I'm worried about," I said, wrapping my hands around his waist.  "It's other people."

He kissed my head without saying anything and held me close for a minute.  When he moved to return to his work, I couldn't help but clutch at him a little.

"Hey, I said I wasn't gonna die," he said, looking down at my fists grabbing his T-shirt.

I looked at them too.  "Sorry," I said, letting him go.

A little ripple of disquiet went across his face.  "What is it, Em?"

I sighed and looked around.  "Nothing.  Just feeling restless, I guess.  You all have important work to do.  And I don't really have anything."

His mouth worked.  "Gimme a minute, I can finish up."

I threw up my hands.  "No, no, I didn't mean to make you feel guilty.  Go do your work."

"Nah, it ain't important," he declared, striding over to his tools.  With a practiced flick of his wrist, he had the leather kit wrapped back up and tied neatly together.  "Come on," he beckoned me.

We stepped out into the blinding sunshine to where his bike was parked.  "Where're we going?"  I wondered.

"Let's get out of here a while,
" he smiled.  And handed me a helmet.  "No dying," he teased.

I pulled it down on my head smiling.  He kicked the motor to life and we roared out of the parking lot, leaving my bad memories behind.

J.

It made sense in his head for her to be wearing the helmet.  Keeping her safe seemed like a natural extension of his love.  Protecting her now felt as necessary as breathing.

She held on tightly as he turned onto the ramp for the Vine Expressway.  They cut under the streets and skyscrapers of Center City
. It felt good to be moving quickly through the light traffic of midday.  J. felt his shoulders relax into the rhythm of the bike and when they reached the ramp for 76, he made a split second decision.  They would head west.  It was a beautiful ride into the Brandywine valley.  Riding through the rolling hills and lush farmland would be just what Emmy needed to quiet her bad thoughts.

And his as well.  He kicked his speed a little faster, as always trying to move faster than his rage.  Because Janelle had called again while Emmy slept.  His estranged sister was still trying to track him down and she nearly ran out the tape on Teach's ancient answering machine cussing him out. 
A terrible son...how can you be so selfish...what is wrong with you that you can't even pick up the goddamned phone and call us...?

What was wrong with him? When he felt Emmy's arms around him, he could almost believe it was nothing.  She believed in him.  She saw some good in him that he didn't even know was there.  She made him want to try harder, to be the man she already thought him to be. 

He could go to his mother's.  He could.  As long as Emmy was there.  If he brought her, then he could have a prayer of holding on to the man he was now, not the angry, bitter wreck he used to be.  He might be able to stay above the fury over his family's betrayal.

When his cheeks flushed hot, he pushed the bike even faster.  The countryside was flashing by in a blur.  Emmy's small white hands squeezed him, white-knuckled with fear and he backed off the speed reluctantly.  Keeping her safe was more important than his anger.

For now
the rage whispered, biding its time.

It was late afternoon when they finally rolled to a stop at the place he knew.  A small hill, barely more than a rise, but bare of trees and seemingly unoccupied.  The slope tumbled gently into the Brandywine Creek, which glinted through the trees that guarded its banks.  All around them was tidy farmland and the neat rows of vineyards.  J. pulled a scratchy wool blanket from his kit and spread it on the close-cropped grass.  Emmy looked at him, wide-eyed in astonishment.

"Where are we?"  She was twisting around, a strange expression on her face.

"Dunno, exactly. I came by here on one of my solo rides.  Thought it might be the kind of place you liked."  He tugged the corner of the blanket and sat down, stretching out his long legs.  The sun was baking down from above and he wished he wasn't wearing jeans.  He absentmindedly rolled up his cuffs and unlaced his boots.   Yanking them off with his socks, he settled his bare feet into the grass.

It wasn't until he had finished his little ritual that he realized Emmy was still standing, regarding him closely.  "Sit down, you're making me nervous," he said.

"Why did you think I'd like it?" she breathed.

J. furrowed his brows in confusion.  "Because you told me you grew up in the country.  This is the country-est place I knew."

Emmy settled down next to him and rested her head on his shoulder.  They listened to the creek babble gently to itself for a moment.  "This is utterly unlike the country where I grew up," Emmy smiled. 

"Guess I kinda thought country was country."

"I didn't even know that this was here," she continued, like she hadn't heard him.  "Robert," she spat his name, "had this chauvinism about the city being the center of the world.  The shit he gave me for being from a rural place...." she sighed and pulled up her pant legs to expose her pale flesh to the sun.  "Sorry.  I don't mean to ruin things by talking about him.  This is nice, J."

J. covered her hand with his.   He could tell by the tense set of her shoulders that something was bothering her. "Say what you gotta say, babe."

She gave a short, rueful little laugh.  "It's such a small thing when you compare it to all the other shit he put me through.  But the city was the sum total of his world and if I so much as mentioned leaving, he would lose his shit."

"Where'd you want to go?"

"Anywhere, really."  A pair of sparrows flitted past, chittering angrily as they landed in a low bush.  "But mostly I just wanted him to stop making me feel bad about where I'm from."

"You miss your house?"

She pressed her lips together.  "It's not my house, never was.  And no, not exactly.  Oh god, smack me if I ever say something otherwise.  But it's where I'm from, you know?  What made me who I am.  For better or worse."

"Then I love the country," J. said, sliding his hand up the back of her shirt to caress the soft skin.

She smiled and did a little shimmy.  In spite of how much it hurt him to pull back, he did.  She wanted to talk, he realized.  And to his ever-growing surprise, he found that he loved to listen to her.  Conversation had never much interested him before.  Most of the talking he did during the day was shout questions about orders and trade insults with Case.  He learned about his brothers through little dribs and drabs of information.  But with Emmy he was hungry to know everything all at once. 
She hunched forward when he pulled away, resting her head on her knees and hugging herself tightly.  Her pale eyes squinting, she stared into the lowering sun.  The golden light lit her white-blond hair, livening the platinum and honey highlights. 

She was fucking breathtaking.  He stared at her so hard that he almost missed the next words out of her mouth. 

"It's not like here," she mused.  "Here it's more open.  The hills are different.  Gentler.  My house is almost in the mountains.  Things are more closed in.  We wouldn't see the sun set like this because it would disappear behind a mountain at three in the afternoon.  All we got was the color.  Like the aftermath." 

"I didn't see the sun set much either."  Emmy turned to look at him as he leaned back on his elbows.  "Our street ran north-south, so it would just disappear behind the rowhomes and that would be that.  When the shadow reached the other side of the street, it was time to go in."

She smiled a small, private smile.  "I'd like to see your house," she prodded gently.

"I know," he cast his eyes down.  "You will.  Let's not talk about that shit right now, please?  It's too fucking nice here to be bringing up bad shit."

She sighed and leaned back, snuggling down into his chest.  "It's where you're from," she echoed.  "It made you who you are."

"I hope to hell I'm better than that," he growled and she was silent.

The sun dipped lower, coloring the hazy skin a muted orange.  The clouds were tipped in faint pink that deepened as the hill swallowed the light.  When the last fiery sliver disappeared below the horizon, Emmy sighed a deep sigh of contentment that tore at J.'s heart.  "Hey, I'm sorry," he heard himself say.  "I didn't mean to be an ass."

She pulled back from him and smiled.  "You can make it up to me by finding some food."

He laughed.  "I saw a Wawa back on the main road."

"Good," she nodded. 

He waited a beat.  "You're not coming with me?"

"Do you mind?"

"Well yeah.  I don't like leaving you alone."

"I feel like if I leave here, some sort of magic spell will be broken."  She cocked her head at him, begging him with her eyes to understand. 

He did.  "I don't want to go back either," he nodded.  "I'll grab us sandwiches and we'll just stay right here."

"For the night?"

"Why the hell not?"

She looked around.  "Won't someone say something?"

"If they do, we'll deal with it.  You can't live your life getting upset over shit that hasn't happened yet."

She laughed.  "That's
all
I do."

"Well then stop it."  He brushed a light kiss across her lips.  "Don't you move from this spot.  I'll be back in ten minutes."

She wrapped herself in the blanket and nodded at him, her pale eyes catching the beginnings of moonlight. 

He rode so fast he frightened even himself.  Leaving her like that felt like he had removed a limb.  The pangs of uncertainty bloomed into paranoia as he paid for their hoagies.  He made sure to loom closely over the shoulder of the greasy haired teenager in front of him.  One look at the impatient, angry black biker behind him made the transaction go as quick as a wink.  The cashier didn't meet his eyes when he paid and for once it didn't bother him.  Let them be afraid of him
, it improved the level of service.  It got him back on his bike quickly and back to the hill where Emmy sat watching the shadows.