Wicked Man (Forgotten Rebels MC Book 2) Read online

  Was he waiting for her to leave? She couldn’t go out the front door if he was out there. No way would she ever be under his mercy again. Self-preservation mode kicked in and that meant running as far and as fast as possible. Pulling the brim on her hat down over her eyebrows, she hefted the backpack on her shoulders and hurried up to the young barista behind the counter.

  “Do you have a back door?” she asked. “I think there’s a man outside stalking me.”

  The young man looked behind her toward the window. “How can you tell? It’s too dark. I don’t see anyone.”

  “He just turned the corner under the streetlight. I saw him. Please, I just want to get out of here without him able to follow.”

  “You want me to call the police?”

  Grimly she shook her head. “They can’t do anything. Not until he hurts me. But I won’t let that happen. Not anymore. Please. Help me.”

  “Sure,” the barista said, nodding to the Employee Entrance. “Go on out the back. I never saw you.”

  “Thank you,” she whispered gratefully, and disappeared once more into the night.

  Chapter Two

  Wick watched the little checkmark next to Abbott’s name fade, indicating she had signed off. Irritation filled him and he reached over to grab some tissues to wipe his seed off his hands. This wasn’t the first time they’d played online, only to have her run as soon as it was over. What he wouldn’t give to have her next to him, so he could properly fuck her, and then wrap her up in his arms so she couldn’t escape.

  Once again, regret filled him over their past. It seemed like they were forever missing each other. It’d been his own damn fault, and he half wondered if she was giving him payback for abandoning her over eleven years ago. But he’d been a dumb fucking kid then, and now he was man enough to admit his mistakes. And he had made plenty over the years, starting with leaving home when he was eighteen and not talking to his father again. The last words he’d spoken to the man, filled with anger and poison, would haunt him forever.

  Just like Abbott Carney had haunted him ever since he’d left for basic training. He’d had to go, of course, because it was a requirement to being a club Brother, but God, leaving Abbott had torn out his soul. The day he’d found out she’d left their hometown of Stevens, Missouri, with some fucktard was the day he’d honestly thought he was going to kill someone. Hunt the fucker down and strangle him for thinking he could touch his girl. No one was good enough for Abbott, and that included himself.

  “Shit,” he muttered and tossed the cum-wet tissue into the trash. Then he quickly pushed his limp cock back into his jeans and zipped up. The thought of Abbott and some douchebag was enough to completely blacken any lingering happiness.

  When a knock sounded on the door, he was glad for the distraction. He rose and headed for the door to unlock it. When he opened it, Heart stood on the other side, his face a mask of grief.

  “What’s wrong?” Wick asked sharply. Thoughts of his step-sister, Piper, rolled through his mind. Not too long ago she’d had a mad woman trying to kill her and had shown up at his door, a broken shell. They were the only family each other had and he couldn’t lose her.

  “It’s my uncle,” Heart said. “I just now found out he passed.”

  Relief surged through Wick, immediately followed by guilt. “I’m so sorry, man.”

  Heart wiped his eyes with the palm of his hand. “He and my aunt raised me. I knew he had cancer but I didn’t know it was so severe.”

  “What can I do for you, Brother?”

  “I’ve gotta go be with my aunt. Help her out. I won’t be able to do the run.”

  “Don’t even think about it,” Wick said quickly. “Family comes first, you know that. Go be with your aunt and give her our condolences.”

  Heart nodded and took a deep breath. “Thanks, Wick.”

  “She lives in the Ozarks, doesn’t she?” Wick asked. “Lots of backwoods between here and there. You want a Brother to go with you?”

  “Nah, I’m good. The ride will give me a chance to clear my head.”

  Wick had the notion to ignore Heart’s wishes and send someone along because his head wasn’t in a good place, but he also knew Heart wouldn’t like to be babysat.

  “Okay.” He reached out and laid a consoling hand on Heart’s shoulder. “Be careful, okay?”

  “I will.”

  With a wave of his hand, Heart turned and hurried down the hall, his boots thumping on the wooden floor. Without Heart, Wick now had to find a road captain for the meth run scheduled the day after tomorrow. It would be the Forgotten Rebels first run with the new route since they’d affiliated themselves with the White Death MC. Far runs were always risky because it meant a larger production, but so far it seemed like his cook, affectionately known as Mr. Snow, was able to keep up with the supply and demand.

  Guess he and his Brothers were about to test their new found wings. It was a daunting prospect simply because a bigger cut of the pie had the potential to bring a spotlight on their operation. Meth was a new business for them, one his predecessor hadn’t wanted, but when Wick had taken over the reins, the newer generation of Brothers had quickly voted for a substantial payday. Meth was Missouri’s biggest crop, so why the hell wouldn’t they grab a piece of it?

  Still, the threat of federal jail time if they were ever caught hung in the back of his mind. Every Brother out there was an ex-soldier, and some of them even drew VA pensions and benefits, so they all knew what it meant if they were arrested. If he could change their minds and vote out being meth dealers, he’d do it in a heartbeat. Unfortunately, majority ruled.

  Rubbing a hand over his face, he exited his office in search of a beer. Or something stronger. It was past midnight, which was usually his afternoon, but suddenly he was extremely tired. Worry managed to take its toll on a body and between Piper, Abbott, and now the meth run, he was beyond mentally exhausted.

  A boisterous laugh came through the closed door, so loud that it caused everyone to turn and look. Wick frowned, and a second later, the door opened to allow a tall man to step through. He blinked, not sure if he was seeing right, because right fucking then it looked like his old nemesis had come strolling into the clubhouse. Then the man turned and any good humor Wick had left evaporated. There stood Darrell McBryde, son of the previous president, and Wick’s biggest pain in the ass.

  “Fuck,” he muttered under his breath.

  With a joyous greeting, the Brothers swarmed Darrell, all happy to see one of their own returned from active duty. The man had joined the army the same time Wick had, but unlike Wick, had stayed to make a career of it. Only it’d been eleven years instead of twenty, so why the fuck was the asshole back nine years too soon?

  Never mind the fact that Darrell had pushed all of his buttons when they’d been prospects together. Anarchy, Darrell’s father, had opposed Wick’s ascension to the presidency. Mainly because Wick was all about change and Anarchy wanted the club to stay mired in the pain and suffering of the Vietnam War. But Wick knew that if the MC was going to survive they had to do something to import funds, otherwise, they were just a bunch of out-of-work soldiers barely able to scrape by. Wick didn’t want to get into the dope business, but their part of Missouri was all about railroad workers and construction crews, and most of the time they were being shipped out all over the state. It was a young man’s working game that the old timers couldn’t play, and when majority ruled for him to take the gavel, there wasn’t much Anarchy could do. Darrell hadn’t been happy either, but by then he had been deployed overseas so his roar wasn’t too loud.

  Darrell stepped farther into the room and that’s when Wick noticed the limp, followed by the thump of a cane as he made his way toward the leather couches. Their gazes met and locked, and Wick saw immediately that the anger and frustration was still there, written all over Darrell’s face.

  “You on leave?” he asked, raising his voice to be heard over the din. The Brother’s quieted down and gave him room t
o walk forward.

  “Medical discharge,” Darrell replied tiredly. “I’m home permanently now. I’m ready to take my place within the club.”

  He sat down, and that’s when his pant leg rode up, revealing the metal prosthetic where flesh and bone had once been. The whole room fell silent. Wick couldn’t seem to look away from the fake leg as a myriad of emotions consumed him. Guilt. Anger. Disbelief. He’d been sucker punched right between the eyes.

  How could he be pissed off with a man who’d lost his leg for his country?

  Fuck!

  “Roadside bomb,” Darrell said in the absolute stillness of the room. “Blew my truck to smithereens. One soldier lost his life and I lost my leg. Guess I was the lucky one.”

  “Christ, Darrell,” Wick muttered.

  “I know I was shit to you back when we were prospects, but I got nowhere else to go,” Darrell said.

  “Then we need to talk,” Wick replied.

  “So I can stay?” Darrell asked.

  “Of course you can. You’re a Brother, first and foremost. Everything else we’ll figure out. ‘K?”

  “Thanks,” Darrell said.

  “Don’t thank me. I’m still debating whether or not to nickname you pogo.”

  The men laughed. Darrell laughed. Wick didn’t have the guts to tell them he wasn’t kidding.

  Chapter Three

  Abbott stood in the dark confines of the rubble that used to be the mechanic shop in Stevens. The last time she’d been there, Chadwick had broken her heart. She hadn’t known it had burned but from the scorch marks lingering on the walls, it had happened a while ago.

  For the past few days she’d been studying the Forgotten Rebels clubhouse and came up with a semi-decent plan on how to sneak in. It wasn’t foolproof but it was one she figured had the highest rate of success. Nothing stirred, so she left the safety of the old building and crossed the road, making sure to stay in the deep shadows provided by the tall trees growing sporadically around the large area. The clubhouse actually had a high concrete wall surrounding it, for either keeping people out or locking them in. She’d never been really sure. Wick had kept tight-lipped on the happenings of the club, and what the Brothers actually did. She knew they worked as the only mechanics in the small town of Stevens, but seeing the auto shop closed had surprised her.

  Crouching in the shadows, Abbott made sure she was still undetected and then dug out a piece of string she’d pilfered along the away. Her pockets were full of items that she probably didn’t need, but still kept for those in case moments. Like now. From her backpack, she pulled out the size extra-large bra she’d taken from the trash can at the laundry mat. The elastic was shot but it wasn’t like she was going to wear it. All she needed was a temporary diversion.

  Tying the string around one strap, she dared to move out of the shadows long enough to tie it to a low hanging branch. Then she took a deep breath and knocked on the door before dashing out of sight. She waited a few moments and finally, the door opened. A young man stepped out, with dark hair that brushed his collar. She figured he was a prospect by the way his cut practically sparkled in the patches of moonlight shining down. The leather hadn’t been worn at all. A brief touch of guilt hit her when he spotted the large bra and stepped away from his post, leaving the door wide open behind him. But the feeling died with the rush of satisfaction that surged through her as she snuck through the gateway into the compound. Sticking to the shadows, she assessed the layout of the fortified compound.

  A spotlight shown down upon the four-bay garage lining one side, where several men worked on their bikes. Classic rock streamed from a boom box somewhere inside. Then the front door open and a man whistled, waving all to come into the large, two-story house. At that moment, the prospect came back and closed the door behind him, clutching the large bra. Abbott rolled her eyes but stayed put as she watched all the members go hurrying into the clubhouse, leaving the path free and clear. Seriously, she hadn’t thought it was going to be that easy, but she wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth. Quickly making her way toward the house, she skirted around to the back and found the door Chadwick had once mentioned in chat. It opened to the laundry and pantry room, and was thankfully, empty. Once she met up with Wick she was going to have to tell him the Rebels’ security was shit. Tiptoeing her way carefully through the interior, mindful to keep her movements light, she searched for Wick. Long ago she had learned it was all about taking graceful, fluid steps instead of clomping through like a herd of elephants.

  It was a skill she never thought she’d learn. Then again, over time she’d learned many skills most women should never have to learn. Mostly about how to survive abuse.

  In the few months she and Chadwick had been talking to each other, he’d let slip many details about the club’s house. Hurrying along, she made her way to his office, hoping he was there. As she neared it, footsteps sounded close so she quickly opened one door and saw it was a bathroom. She slipped in and closed it right before the footsteps came closer. It was an uneven gait, and the foot falls were oddly placed. She waited until they disappeared before easing the door open and cautiously glancing up and down the hallway to make sure she was alone once more. When she didn’t see anyone, she hurried out of the bathroom and up to Chadwick’s door.

  “You should’ve let me know you were getting out,” came a deep baritone that she immediately recognized as Chadwick. His voice still had the power to wash through her, igniting her blood and causing butterflies to dance in her belly.

  “I honestly thought if I did you’d send Heart or someone to stop me,” came the voice of another man sounding slightly bitter and slightly pleading. She wondered why.

  “You think I’m that much of a bastard?” Wick demanded.

  “What else am I supposed to think, Wick? Last time I saw you, you were a prospect heading off to the army. And then you came back and suddenly you’re the president? Look at it from my point of view.”

  “Your father opposed me. You still siding with him?”

  A small pause. Abbott held her breath, waiting for the answer.

  “My father opposed you because of what you promised the club.”

  “I only promised what each man wanted,” Wick said. “You know perfectly well it was brought to a vote, and they said yes.”

  “But you didn’t oppose it, did you? And now the Rebels are allied with the White Death? When did we stop being the free spirits this club was founded on? The forgotten heroes after the military chewed us up and spat us out?”

  “Don’t preach to me, Darrell. This club was founded with members disillusioned with society when they came back from Vietnam. It wasn’t a case of being free spirits but about a bunch of bitter men traumatized with PTSD. And you, obviously, fit right into their ranks.”

  “You’re a fucking asshole,” Darrell muttered.

  “Call me what you’d like, but as long as I wear this president patch I will do whatever is necessary to protect and provide for this club,” Wick vowed. “You served your duty to your country. You fulfilled the obligation to become a full member, and now you can wear the Forgotten Rebel patch. If you so wish.”

  “As long as I wear the White Death one as well?”

  “We’re allies. My sister is old lady to their president. You will not fuck this up. I don’t care whose son you are.”

  Abbott sensed the tense meeting was coming to an end, so she hurried quietly back to the bathroom. The office door swung open with a crash and she didn’t have time to shut the bathroom door completely. She shrank back into the darkness of the room, but managed to catch a glimpse of Darrell as he stormed past. His odd, uneven gait revealed when she caught a glimpse of the silver prosthetic attached to the end of his lower left leg, and the cane that helped him walk.

  Waiting for a moment to make sure the coast stayed clear, she left the bathroom and approached his door. It suddenly dawned on her that she was only a few feet from Chadwick Edwards, the man she’d loved for … we
ll, always. Ever since they’d been in high school, when he’d accidently brushed against her, which had caused all her teenage hormones to flood her body. The memories washed over her, and she remembered how she fell in love with the boy who now sat behind the door she stared at. Would he remember those feelings too? Recall how they’d fit together perfectly? How they’d made plans for a future that never happened?

  What if he rejected her? After all, communication through IM was vastly different than meeting someone face to face, and it had been a long time since they’d last seen each other.

  Trembling, she knocked upon the wooden frame and waited.

  “Come in,” he shouted.

  Her heart pounded so hard she thought it would explode. The slight tremble in her hand showed just how nervous she was. Excitement and terror wrapped around each other and hugged her like a wet blanket, smothering her. Abbott wasn’t sure if she wanted to vomit or pee her pants. Instead, she took a deep breath, calmed her crazy nerves, and opened the door.

  Chadwick sat with his head bent as he read some piece of paper. Larger than life. Beautiful. Gruff. And she could barely believe she was looking at him. That this moment was real. His hair was still the same beautiful shade of brown, but a little longer since it brushed his shoulders. He seemed bigger. More muscular. His leather cut fit his body like a second skin. She closed the door behind her with a soft click then waited for him to acknowledge her.

  “What is it?” he asked. The hand over his mouth muffled his words slightly.

  She didn’t answer.

  He lifted his head, and she watched the exasperation disappear instantly as their gazes met. Held. He blinked, as if not sure what he was seeing. Desire pooled in her stomach. The need to hold him. Touch him. Kiss him, because almost overwhelming.

  “Abbott?” he asked softly. Hesitantly.

  “Hello, Chadwick,” she managed to say through bone dry lips. The butterflies in her belly were doing somersaults. The high expectation she’d had for this very moment rolled together with her nerves, and she wasn’t sure what to do. She didn’t know how to stand, or what do to with her hands.