Take Aim and Reload (Forgotten Rebels MC Book 3) Read online

  Cherry sighed and rubbed her temples. Every day Church grew surlier, and her attitude gave Cherry a headache. “Please, Church. Help me.”

  Church rolled her eyes but pulled out some keys from her pocket and headed over to the truck they’d stole the night they’d fled. Church said the owner, Woody from Woody’s Tavern, would understand, but since they hadn’t talked to him, Cherry highly doubted his benevolence.

  “Come on,” Church muttered. “Let’s go find your bleeding Heart. Lord knows if he dies on the side of the road the cops will come investigate. I don’t need to tell you that’s the last thing we want.”

  “I know,” Cherry said quietly.

  “You owe me, Cherry. When this is all over with you owe me big time.”

  “I know,” she repeated. It was a mantra that Cherry reiterated like a benediction. Yes, she certainly owed her sister a lot. Trouble was, she didn’t know how to make it up to her sister. If she did, maybe Church would love her again.

  Chapter Two

  “Here,” Cherry said, pointing. “Careful. Right around this bend. See? There.”

  “I see him,” Church replied as she slowed down. She steered around the bike, and then put it in reverse to back up close to the downed motorcycle. “Shame about the bike.”

  A car honked as it sped by and Church flipped it off. Cherry jumped from the passenger seat and hurried to where Heart rested, propped up against a tree. His eyes were closed and an arm rested across his stomach. She squatted next to him and touched his forehead.

  “Heart?”

  One eye squinted open. “Angel.”

  “He’s got you pegged,” Church said.

  Cherry ignored her, but Heart’s head lolled on his shoulder to look up at her. A frown creased his forehead.

  “Am I seein’ double?” he asked.

  “Yes,” Church replied blithely. “That girl is the angel and I’m the devil, so why don’t you stand on up and help us move your ass into the truck?”

  “What ’bout my bike? I ain’t leavin’ her.”

  Church looked over her shoulder. “Can you help me get it on the bed of the truck?”

  “You bet I can.” As he pushed to his feet, he swayed, causing Cherry to slip her arms around his waist to keep him steady. Once again, at his touch, butterflies fluttered in her belly. He glanced down at her, their gazes locked together, and his fingers tightened ever so slightly, pulling her closer.

  “Thank you,” he murmured.

  “W-welcome,” she replied. Heat spread up her neck and over her cheeks.

  “Blushing?” he asked, sounding surprised. “I didn’t know women still did that. You are an angel.”

  His gaze was a bit too intense. Cherry broke eye contact in a vain attempt to hide how much he disturbed her equilibrium. Once he steadied on his feet, she let her arm drop from his waist and stepped away.

  He and Church strained to get the big bike up on the bed of the truck, with him doing most of the heavy lifting. After much cursing and grunting between the two of them, the bike lay cater corner to the rectangular shape of the truck. Heart bent over and placed his hand on his one good knee, breathing heavy.

  “Damn deer,” he said as he stared at his motorcycle. “I fuckin’ loved that bike.”

  “Just needs some TLC,” Church said as she jumped from the bed. “Come on. We have ’ta get out of here.”

  She headed to the driver’s side. Heart gestured with his hand for Cherry to go first before he straightened and limped after her. The trip back to the cabin was done in silence, and Cherry was very aware of Heart’s presence next to her. She kept glancing out her peripheral corner to look at him, wondering what on earth it was about him that drew her attention. A tattoo peaked out from the cuff of his leather jacket and she could only imagine how much of his body was covered in ink. The thought of finding out had her half squirming in her seat as an ache grew down deep. Fear, she thought. Had to be because it surely couldn’t be attraction. The couple of men she’d dated had been clean-cut, all American boys, who played touch football on the weekends and wore vests over their logo pullovers. Not a man who wore leather, probably sported many tattoos, and whose vocabulary seemed to only consist of swear words.

  “Stop it,” Church ordered in a low voice. “There’s not enough room for your wriggling around.”

  “Sorry,” she replied.

  Heart laid his head back and seemed to be asleep, or at least, not paying attention, for which she was grateful. The last thing she wanted was for him to know just how much he affected her, mentally and physically.

  Once they reached the cabin and the truck came to a halt, Heart lifted his head and peered through half-open eyes. Cherry knew it didn’t look like much. A small one-room shanty was more accurate than calling it a cabin, but for the past month, it had been home. Heart opened the truck door and stumbled out, and she hurried after him to help him inside.

  If he’d been expecting one of those modern log cabins with polished wooden floors and a deer antler chandelier, he would be deeply disappointed. Inside was a wood-burning stove that was slowly rusting away, three couches that also doubled for beds, and a couple of hot plates that heated up canned food. Anything requiring being cooked had to be on top of the wood stove. Much to his credit, however, he didn’t say a scathing word about the small cabin. He simply flopped down on the nearest couch and closed his eyes.

  Church stayed outside, which was what she did most of the time, and Cherry wasn’t sure if it was to get away from her or to just stay busy. She was the kind of woman who was constantly doing something, so Cherry didn’t bother her. Instead, she went to take care of Heart, making him comfortable and taking a look at the scraped knee through the torn bits of jean.

  “If you want my pants off,” he murmured, making her jump, “all you have to do is ask.”

  “Oh! I, ah, I-I thought maybe we should clean it.”

  For an answer, Heart just unbuttoned and unzipped his pants. He lifted his hips and tugged the material down until it bunched around his thighs.

  “You’re gonna have to help me,” he said.

  Cherry’s mouth went dry. Trying hard not to show her nervousness, she grabbed the waistband and pushed the jeans down, being real careful around the knee. He wore boxer briefs under the pants, and by the prominent bulge between his legs, he wasn’t immune to her either.

  Her gaze flew to his, and he gave her a half-grin, shrugging with one shoulder. “You’re a beautiful woman. What’d you expect?”

  “You think I’m beautiful?” she asked, stunned.

  He raised one eyebrow. “You playing coy?”

  She shook her head. “No, it’s just that most people think Church is the beautiful one because she’s more outgoing.”

  “Church?”

  She pointed toward the door. “My sister. We’re identical twins. At least, on the outside we are.”

  “Yeah, I noticed that. But even sportin’ one helluva headache I can see the look-alike is only superficial. Just one look into your eyes and I knew the difference between you two.”

  Cherry grimaced. “She’s a little perturbed with me at the moment.”

  “I didn’t mean that,” he said. “What I meant was that you have the purest soul I’ve ever seen. Cross my heart.”

  That made her smile. “Have you seen many souls?”

  He reached up and caressed her cheek. “Yep. If she’s Church, what’s your name? I take it that it’s not Angel.”

  “No,” she replied. “I’m Cherry.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  “Nope. And what’s worse is my middle name.”

  “And what is that?”

  “Sundae.”

  He chuckled. “Cherry Sundae. I do believe that’s become my favorite desert.”

  Instantly, heat flooded her face and she knew had to be blushing again.

  “I-I, um, let me go get the thing,” she said. She still held his jeans in her hand, so she quickly folded them and laid them on
the back of the couch.

  “Thing?”

  “Yeah, um, the … first-aid kit.”

  It took her a moment to remember the name.

  “Okay.”

  Cherry turned and fled to the small area that was designated for the kitchen. The water was pumped in from an underground well and she turned on the faucet to splash some cool water on her face. She was pretty certain what she was feeling wasn’t fear. Far from it, actually. She wasn’t completely clueless about attraction, and what her body was feeling definitely rose from her libido.

  From under the sink, she pulled out a large white box that had a red cross on the front. One peek out of the small window showed Church maneuvering a cherry picker machine near the truck. The chains made clanging sounds as it swayed from her pushing. Church was happiest when she was around oil and grease, so she probably would be MIA for hours. Here she was, all alone with a man who rocked her inner core off its axis, and she was completely inept at dealing with the magnetism he exuded.

  Take a deep breath to steady her nerves, Cherry turned. The back of the couch blocked her from seeing him completely, but his feet hung over the bottom of the couch and an arm was flung over his head. When she came around the side and saw him sprawled in all his raw masculinity, her mouth went dry as her heart thundered in her ears. One leg had a snake tattoo winding upward with the head disappearing somewhere under his shirt. He watched her with a small, predatory smile lingering on his lips. Quickly, she focused on his knee, on the leg without the tattoo, and the nasty road rash helped steady her nerves. The whole area was swollen and quickly turning a nasty shade of purple.

  “I didn’t realize it was that bad,” she said. “You might need to see a doctor.”

  “Nope,” he said. “I don’t have any health coverage right now.”

  She kneeled down and opened the first-aid kit, taking out peroxide, antibiotic ointment, gauze, and some tape.

  “This might sting.”

  She wet some gauze with peroxide and dabbed it on the wound. Heart let out a hiss and jackknifed a little, lifting his knee in a reflexive move, which banged her arm and caused her to spill the peroxide over his body.

  “Fuck!” he yelped, and quickly sat up.

  Cherry fumbled to move out of his way and fell back onto her butt.

  “Sorry,” he said. He held his damp t-shirt away from him. “I don’t much like pain.”

  “I don’t think anyone does,” she said. “I’m sorry about spilling this on you.”

  “Nope, my fault,” he said. He grimaced as he tried to bend his knee, but it had swollen too much. “Well, shit. Just what I don’t fuckin’ need right now. You have a cell phone?”

  “No,” she said. She rose from her undignified position and stood up. “Wouldn’t work out here anyway.”

  “Landline?”

  She shook her head no.

  “You’re not one of those fuckin’ Amish people are you? Or one of those off-the-grid types?”

  “No,” she said, a bit bemused. “This cabin belonged to the man who raised me and Church, and he came out here to get away from the city.”

  “The big bad city of Springfield?” He snorted. “If you have no phone, how do you communicate with the outside world?”

  Cherry wasn’t sure how to answer that. How did one reply that they were hiding out so they wouldn’t be caught and killed? Her gaze landed on the patch of his jacket and that served as a reminder that no matter if she found him sexy and attractive, she really couldn’t trust him at all.

  “We make do,” she said quietly, looking away. She wasn’t a very good liar, and she was afraid the guilt was written all over her face.

  “Mm,” he replied, very noncommittal.

  When silence descended upon them, she took the moment to gather the rest of the medical items. Putting away the peroxide, she picked up the ointment and the gauze.

  “Let me put on the medicine,” she said. “This part won’t hurt. At least it shouldn’t.”

  He eased back down onto the couch with a grimace. Cherry applied the antibiotic ointment and wrapped up the knee. The tattoo on the other leg caught her attention. The deep greens and blues really stood out against his skin, and the shading made it seem like it was real.

  “If you don’t like pain why did you get such a large tattoo?”

  “Tattoos aren’t painful,” he said quietly. “Feels like a mosquito annoying the hell out of you. But it has meaning. All my tats have meaning. You don’t get one unless they symbolize somethin’ in your life.”

  “And what does the snake represent to you?”

  “A snake sheds his skin to grow.”

  “Oh,” she said, surprised. “That’s a much deeper answer than I expected.”

  “Not sure if I should be offended by that remark.”

  Cherry’s eyes widened. “Oh no! I didn’t mean to sound critical. I simply mean that from my point of view, a snake is a serpent that delivered evil to Adam and Eve. I never looked at it like a snake actually transforms. You’re right, though. Almost like a butterfly.”

  “Yep. But a snake is more manly.”

  He winked. Cherry found herself smiling.

  “Well, I don’t have any tattoos,” she said.

  “If you ever decide you want one, let me know. I’m friends with the best artist in Missouri.”

  “I wouldn’t even know what to get.” Cherry highly doubted she’d ever get one, but thought it was sweet of him to offer. So far, he was shattering all the bad-boy motorcycle-rider expectations she had in place. She cleared her throat. “I think it’s best you lie here for a while. Prop the knee up.”

  He sighed. “I need to contact my club, let my president know what happened. You think we could go to Springfield tomorrow?”

  “I’ll ask Church.”

  “Your sister gotta clear all your moves?”

  “It’s … complicated.”

  “Mm,” he said again. “You wouldn’t happen to have any pain meds, would you? Some oxy would be awesome, although I’d take some morphine.”

  Cherry dug through the first aid kit and held up a small square package. “Acetaminophen.”

  “Great,” he muttered, plucking the package from her. The sour look on his face told her that acetaminophen wasn’t much desired.

  ****

  Cherry closed the cabin door behind her before making her way over to her sister. Church had managed to get the bike off the truck and it dangled on the cherry picker like a marionette.

  “Is it fixable?” she asked.

  Church blew her bangs out of her eyes. “Of course. Everything broken is fixable.”

  “On the bike or things in general?”

  Church raised an eyebrow. “Are you philosophizing?”

  Cherry hugged herself. She really wanted to talk to her sister, open up and find out exactly where their relationship derailed. They’d been close all their lives, best friends with a bond that only twins could feel. When their mom had abandoned them, they’d hugged each other tight and faced the uncertain future. When their grandfather had picked them up at the shelter, they had clasped hands and walked together. Now she wondered if Church would even care if something bad happened to her.

  Church pulled a rag from her back pocket and wiped her hands. “Look, Cherry, you have your life and I have mine. Or least I did. Now I’m hiding from some God-damn drug kingpin of fucking Missouri. Thanks for that, by the way.”

  Cherry bit her lip. She really didn’t feel like arguing with her sister, so she changed the subject.

  “Heart wants to go to Springfield tomorrow, and I thought perhaps it would be a good time to deliver the flash drive to the press. Once it’s made public, we’ll be safe. You can go back to your life.”

  “You really think it’s going to be that easy?” Church asked. “That we’ll simply hand over the flash drive to some would-be reporter and everything turns out happy ever after like in the movies?”

  “Yes.”

  Church s
hook her head. “Poor Cherry. You are so fucking naïve.”

  “Why do you say stuff like that?”

  “Because the moment we step out of this safe zone”—Church turned in a circle and waved her arms to encompass the cabin and land—“we’ll probably die. Warren Cabot will never let you walk away, Cherry, and Masterson is his lap dog. Now you want to put your safety into the hands of that fucking biker? For what? So he can go home? Give me a break!”

  Church’s anger was palpable, so electric it almost singed Cherry.

  “Why are you angry all the time?” she asked, her voice a mere whisper of bewilderment.

  “Because I’ve spent years trying to keep you safe, and you managed to dissimilate all my efforts the moment you swiped your badge into Cabot’s office! Jesus, Cherry! I feel like everything I’ve done has been slapped in my face!”

  Confusion swamped Cherry. “What are you talking about? How did you keep me safe? From what?”

  Instead of answering, however, Church turned away. Yet not before Cherry saw pain darken her blue eyes. Her sister had secrets, and they seemed to be eating her up.

  “Church—”

  “Forget it, okay? It’s not important. It was never important.”

  Frustration sluiced through Cherry. Sometimes it was like trying to talk to a brick wall. “Okay, fine. Are we going to Springfield tomorrow or not?”

  “Sure,” Church said with a one-shoulder shrug. “Why the hell not?”

  Church walked away, heading toward the barn. Cherry rubbed her temples. A surly sister and a man who stimulated her libido. What more was waiting for them?

  Chapter Three

  Cherry took the stew off the stove and carried the heavy cast-iron pot to the table. Night had fallen, bathing the land in complete darkness. It had unnerved her at first, the absolute black of night with the muted sounds of the wilderness all around them. For the most part, she’d been raised in the city, only coming out to Paw Paw’s cabin every once in a while when he wanted to fish. Most of the time they lived on the outskirt of Springfield, where she, Church, and Ricky had attended school. Her grandfather had owned and operated a small gas station, one of the old-fashioned types where he had greeted each customer and pumped their gas. He’d only accepted cash, and occasionally a check from a regular customer. It was in his garage that Church had fallen in love with anything mechanic.