Page 3 of Steel

Reed. Jedreck. Macey. My best friend, Lena.Steel.

It’s ridiculous that a man whose voice I haven’t heard in at least three years is one of my reasons, but it is what it is.

There’s always been this hypnotic attraction that lured me to him, catching me in a trap of burning lust that quickly turned to feelings.

For me, anyway.

Three years ago, he and Heather had split upagain,starting our semi-toxic cycle all over. For some damn reason, I’m unable to say no to the sexy asshole whenever he comes to me. Sometimes, I get a weekend. Sometimes, I get a week. One time, I was lucky enough to earn a whole month.

Lucky fucking me.

Then Heather would call and threaten to take his daughter away, and he was gone again, leaving me with muttered apologies, regret, and a damn broken heart.

You’d think with him being part of a motorcycle club, he wouldn’t let her have that kind of hold over him, but what do I know.

For some stupid reason, I’d always open my door and my bed to him in the faint hope that he’d eventually choose me. Which is ridiculous because he already cares about Emmy Lou in a way that goes beyond platonic. She’s been his best friend for years. Ever since the Dirty Mavericks were called in to help her husband rescue her. And he wouldn’t choose me over his daughter. Not that I expect nor want him to. I’d never ask him that. I just want him to pick me over Heather, or even over his feelings for Emmy Lou.

Or at least, I did.

But after the last time I had pleaded with him to stay, I realized I’d never be put before his child’s mother or Em, and I wasn’t okay with that.

When they split up again a few months later, he’d called wanting a hookup. That time, I’d grown a spine and told him no, that I deserved more than to be a man’s side piece. It didn’t matter that they weren’t officially together any of the times we’d slept together—so he says, anyway. Even if they weren’t, we both knew it was only a matter of time before they’d be back together because their toxic cycle was worse than ours.

That’s what I had been relegated to be in his life . . .

A fucking side piece.

I think we could have been more, but he ended up knocking Heather up a month or so after Emmy Lou’s wedding, and he’s been in a seriously fucked-up on-and-off-again relationship with her ever since.

“You’re letting the stupid bitch get away. Fucking aim better, you useless fuck,” screams the man I’m coming to recognize as Killer.

Up ahead is my chance to get away. If I can get lost in the dense trees across the creek bed, I should be able to lose them. With night closing in, it’ll be a lot harder to get an aim on me.

I try not to think about all the shit that can get into the open wound on my thigh. I’ll be lucky not to end up with a leg full of infection by the time I get out of here. Hell, I’ll be lucky if I don’t lose so much blood that I end up dying anyway.

I’m right at the edge of the creek bed when another shot cracks through the air. My body twists sideways, and I fall into the water with a loud splash.

Get up, Bailee. If they catch you, you’re dead.

Agony rushes through me as I struggle to my knees then my feet, and my vision blinks in and out a couple times. Sharp slices of pain throb in my right thigh and shoulder.

My energy is depleted. I’ve been shot twice and have obviously lost more blood than I thought. Trembles wrack my body as my damp hair hangs limp in front of my face.

My camera is soaked, and I shake it off while praying my film is still salvageable.

I’m really freaking glad I chose to go analog instead of digital for these pictures because I doubt my digital camera would have survived the fall into the water.

The men chasing me are idiots. Otherwise, they’d keep their steps quiet to have a better chance of sneaking up on me. Instead, they’re heavy as they crunch against the twigs and broken leaves on the ground in their hurry to catch up to me. Each noise helps me pinpoint their locations.

I’ve never been one to quit fighting, so with a deep breath, I lock all the pain behind the titanium vault in my mind where I shove everything else and climb to my feet.

There will be time to rest when I get to safety.

With one last glance over my shoulder, I determine they’re far enough away that I have about a five-minute start ahead of them.

I hurry through the water to the other side. It only takes me a few minutes to disappear in the foliage as the bikers’ rage-filled curses float to my ears on the breeze.

I’m light and limber on my feet thanks to the daily yoga I do to keep in shape. Even wounded, it gives me an edge over these men, who are huge, bulky, and weighed down by their jeans, leather, and boots.

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