Page 18 of Steel

Chuckling, I could only imagine the way my father would tell the story.

Even after I’d yanked on my clothes, Axe was still reading comments. So were Denver and Viper.

“This is a good one. I’d have Steel’s baby any day.” Viper winked when he tossed me a look.

Snorting, I grabbed my keys and wallet, even more eager to get the hell out of here.

“I’ll ride that wild beast,” Denver cooed in a voice that I never wanted to hear again.

“Just cut it out. One and done. Don’t you dare ask me to do shit like that again.” I gave my brother an evil eye, which only made him laugh even harder.

“A few of the guys are stopping by Ziggy’s for a couple brewskis,” Viper offered. “You want to go?”

Normally, I would say yes, but for some reason, I was more exhausted than usual. “Not this time.”

“The guy is a dud,” my brother tossed out. “He’s getting old.”

I acted like I was going to break his neck while grinning. Axe and I had grown closer over the last year since the death of our older brother. But even he could be a pain in the ass. Especially on the mission, but what was said was between the two of us. “Maybe I have something fun to do, unlike all you assholes,” I threw out as I backed away.

“Come on. Live a little,” Axe called after me, but I waved him off with my hand, grabbing my duffle and heading toward the parking lot.

Once outside, I took a deep breath of the late afternoon air while watching one of the helicopters taking off. That had been Will’s place, the main helicopter pilot. God, how my brother had loved being up in the air in his bird. It didn’t matter that the multimillion-dollar piece of equipment belonged to the city of Missoula. It had always been his bird.

He’d babied her to death, insisting he was the only one capable of washing her the right way. Hell, he even had a name for her. What was it? Well, shit. I couldn’t remember.

Well, his fucking damn bird had failed him.

I waited until the bird was out of sight before heading toward my truck. How many times had I told Will to change the name because females were bad luck and bad news? He hadn’t listened.

Oh, yeah. He’d called her Violet. How the hell could I forget?

Maybe I’d ditch the nap and take a ride. Beer and burger. A long bike ride to nowhere. Decisions. Decisions. Maybe the ride would wait until tomorrow. I was still laughing at myself as I jumped into my truck, starting the engine.

A couple of days to myself. Exactly what I needed.

With Bullet for My Valentine on the satellite, I didn’t waste any time heading toward the mountains. While I’d always told myself I’d move away from Missoula as soon as I was old enough and had been for a couple of years, I’d finally realized the mountains were in my blood. There was no peace in a big city, just noise and traffic, assholes thinking they were better than me, and expensive food.

I preferred the peace of fishing, motorcycle riding, and being all alone. The heavy metal music was exactly what I needed to expunge the horrific images from the fire that would haunt me for days to come. Even though I’d seen it all during my illustrious career, nothing ever prepared you for finding a victim.

Nothing.

With a quick swing by one of the local grocery stores, I was more than eager to get home.

When I was on the mountainous two-lane road, I rolled down the windows and allowed the band to entertain the critters living in the woods. The drive usually relaxed me, but even as I rounded the bend leading to a road containing only three houses, one of which being mine, I was more aggravated than usual and there was only one reason why.

Memories of Tanya.

I could call her a real bitch and not feel any regret about it, but my mama had taught me never to use the bad word for a woman. But since my mama had done it for me after being told what the woman had done to me, I felt it entirely appropriate to do so now.

“Fucking bitch!” How fascinating it coordinated with some lyrics the lead singer was belting out. Did reminding myself of one of the worst moments in my life make me feel any better?

Hell, no.

The memories only brought back a level of anger I’d fought on and off for two years. As I passed by the first house on the street, I was struck by how peaceful the environment was. Maybe because the couple who lived there was always traveling, currently vacationing in Switzerland.

A happy as clams couple with no worries, empty nesters with plenty of money and time on their hands. Time I had. Money? Not so much. I picked up speed, heading down the mostly gravel road until something caught my attention out of the corner of my eye and I was forced to slam on my brakes to avoid slamming into a flying object.

“What the fuck?” Dust swept from under the truck as I skidded to a stop. The object rolled past the front grill, stopping on the side of the road. I had to concentrate to determine its identity. “A turkey?”