Warrior (Forgotten Rebels MC Book 4) Read online

  Everyone turned and Church saw her sister and brother-in-law walking over from the compound and felt a sense of dread. Company. Her worst nightmare.

  “That woman looks like you,” Carleen said.

  Church stared at Cherry, silently willing her to turn and go away. It wasn’t that she didn’t love her sister, in fact it was quite the opposite. Cherry was, perhaps, the one person in the world she’d do anything for. In fact, that was exactly what she’d done in protecting her twin from Ricky, and it was for that reason why she now avoided Cherry.

  Her sister had her husband, Heart, now. A new protector. He’d made Church’s job obsolete.

  “Here’s the coffee,” Heart said as he and Cherry approached the others.

  “Hi Church,” Cherry said softly.

  “Hey,” she replied. “What made you bring coffee?”

  “Joe-Joe asked for it,” Heart replied.

  Five sets of eyes turned to the old man.

  “What?” he asked defensively. “I figured you can’t have doughnuts without coffee.”

  Church rolled her eyes. “All right,” she said loudly. “I have work to do, so everyone out.”

  Carleen picked up the box and read out loud, “Refurbished. Does that mean it belonged to someone else?”

  “Well, yeah,” Church said, taking it from her. “It was used but then it was sent to a factory and rebuilt. It’s a recycled part that’s as good as new.”

  “I don’t want a used one,” Carleen said. “This is a Mercedes. Granted it’s an older model but still, it needs a new one.”

  Irritation sluiced through Church. “This refurbished one is like a new one. It’ll last you a long time.”

  Carleen narrowed her eyes. “I don’t want a used one. I’m the customer, correct? I want a brand-new one.”

  Church snapped her mouth shut to hold back the irritated retort that bubbled to the surface. This woman was her one and only client so far, so it behooved her to play nice.

  “It’ll take a few days because I’ll have to order one.”

  They stared at one another for a moment before Carleen suddenly smiled. “I have no problem waiting. Besides, looks like I have a meeting with this Wick president.”

  “Oh?” Cherry asked. “About what?”

  As the doctor dived into her passionate speech on opening a rehab center, the walls began to close in on Church. One thing her garage had always given her was space and quiet. Focusing on an engine helped keep the demons in her head from getting too loud. The worst part of having a horrible past were the memories that could never be fully laid to rest.

  “I’m going to return this,” she muttered to no one in particular. She grabbed the refurbished alternator box and headed toward her truck, not caring in the least she left her customer behind.

  “I’ll come with you,” Darrell said. His awkward gait with his fake leg was more pronounced over the gravel parking lot. “Have you thought about paving this?”

  She hopped in behind the wheel and waited until he joined her in the cab. “Yeah, I’ve been getting that a lot of that lately.”

  Right before she backed out of the driveway, Church happened to look at Carleen Brogan and saw the doctor staring at her, the narrowed gaze pulling the older woman’s eyebrows into an angry V-shape frown.

  “I thought you were down with the doughnuts,” Darrell said, breaking the silence. Church turned away from Carleen to head back to the auto parts store. “I’m sorry for surprising you.”

  “I just don’t understand why Joe-Joe keeps coming over to sit on my sofa,” she said. “He’ll sit there for hours, day after day. Is there nothing for him to do at the compound?”

  “We’re not like the television shows where we have orgies every night, you know,” he said a bit dryly. “For the most part, the old timers sit around talking war stories.”

  “Does that mean you’ll be one of those old men doing the same thing?”

  “Oh God,” he muttered. “I never thought about that.”

  She smirked at his horrified expression.

  “Maybe,” Darrell said, continuing, “Joe-Joe comes over because you remind him of his granddaughter.”

  “Well, if I remind him of her, then Cherry reminds him too, so why doesn’t he bug her?”

  “No, it has nothing to do with looks,” he said, shaking his head. “It’s more attitude. Cherry is nice and Trevie was … difficult.”

  Church picked up on the past tense immediately. “Trevie?”

  “Trevalyn.”

  “So you knew her?”

  He nodded. “We were in the same class year, although she never graduated. From what I remember, Joe-Joe’s daughter died in a car accident and since the dad wasn’t around, he got custody of Trevie.”

  It sounded like her own history. “What happened to her?”

  “Senior year she and a few of her friends were drinking and got too near the railroad tracks. She was hit by a passing train. Casket was closed during the wake.”

  “Jesus, that’s a horrible way to go.”

  “He doesn’t talk about her at all,” Darrell murmured. “At least, he’s never mentioned her at the club. But I remember she had an edge and I think you have that same quality.”

  Church wasn’t sure if she liked that reference or not. “What do you mean by edge?”

  “You know how to take care of yourself,” he replied. “There’s a don’t touch me vibe coming off of you, and not because you’re a bitch but because I have no doubt you wouldn’t hesitate to kill someone who fucked with you. Or with Cherry.”

  His observation hit too close to home, and she shifted a little on the bench seat, a little uncomfortable with his words.

  “Can I ask what’s going on between you and your sister?” he asked. “Or is that an off-limits subject?”

  She was quiet for a moment, not sure if she wanted to delve into that can of worms. But for some reason, she felt comfortable with him, maybe because there wasn’t any guile in his eyes. Maybe because she knew he was like her … uncomfortable around a large crowd.

  “Cherry is an innocent,” she finally said. “Not in the virginal way, obviously, but she perceives that everyone has goodness inside them.”

  “I think there’s a healthy dose of good and bad in all of us. Don’t you?”

  “I think … most people have more of one and less of the other.”

  He cocked his head. “Including yourself?”

  “I have more dark than light,” she said and thanked the universe when she pulled into the parking lot of the auto parts store so she didn’t have to say any more. Of course it was obvious she didn’t like talking about herself, but more than that, she didn’t like talking about what made the dark prevalent in her soul.

  She grabbed the alternator box and receipt and hopped out of the truck, not bothering to wait for him to follow. As she entered, she saw Miller Goff, the owner of the other garage at the counter. She got in line behind him to wait her turn, but a moment later, Miller turned to leave. When he saw her, he paused.

  “Well, well,” he said, looking her up and down with a Cheshire cat smirk on his face. “If it isn’t little Church Farlander. How’s the garage business lately?”

  “Fine,” she replied stiffly.

  “Yeah, I doubt that.”

  The smugness lining his voice caught her attention. “What does that mean?”

  “Hard to get work when the good Christian people of Stevens thinks a loose woman is in their midst.”

  There was no mistaking the implication of his words.

  “Asshole,” she muttered.

  He took a step closer, invading her space, but she refused to back down and give him the satisfaction of knowing he made her uncomfortable. She lifted her chin and leveled on him the coldest glare she could muster.

  “It’s just business,” he said snidely.

  “No, it’s slander and it’s against the law,” Darrell said loudly at the entrance of the store. The patrons inside began
to look back and forth between them, as if witnessing a tennis match.

  Miller angled himself in such a way that he could view both of them. “Are you her knight in shining armor?”

  “Cut it out, Miller,” she ordered. “If you’re bad-mouthing me so much then why did you send me the Mercedes?”

  Miller frowned. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, but the only time I ever mention you is when someone asks me what free pussy is around.”

  Darrell made a low growling sound, fists curling up as he took a threatening step forward, but Church didn’t need someone defending her. She had learned long ago how to put an end to loud-mouth dickheads. She slipped her knife out of her pocket and flipped it open with the pad of her thumb before stepping between the two men and pressing the tip against Miller’s crotch.

  “You’re a disgusting man,” she said coldly. “Say you’re fucking sorry to Darrell unless you don’t want children.”

  He swallowed and glanced down. “Jesus-fucking-Christ, you’re a demented bitch.”

  She pressed harder. “A demented bitch I might be, but that’s not what I told you to say.”

  “Sorry,” Miller muttered before he backed up and turned, hurrying out of the store.

  She looked around at the customers, who stared wide-eyed at her. She closed the knife as easily as she had opened it and slipped it back into her pocket.

  “I’m not a whore,” she said loudly before setting the alternator on the countertop. “And I need to return this.”

  Chapter Five

  “I didn’t need you to defend me,” she muttered once they exited the store.

  Darrell stretched his leg out in front of him and rubbed his thigh. It was aching again, so he must have stepped wrong somewhere. The strap on his prosthetic dug into his skin, which made him tense as he walked, causing him to wear the muscle out quickly. Church started up the truck and peeled out of the parking lot. Her tires squealed on the pavement and he grabbed hold of the door handle as she made a sharp left.

  “Miller is an asshole,” he finally said when his heartbeat settled a little from the adrenaline kick infused by her driving. “Always has been, always will be.”

  “I’ve been dealing with men like him my whole life.”

  He wanted to ask her about that phrase, even tease her a little since she was so young to have endured much. However, he knew when to err on the better side of caution. Church possessed a razor-sharp tongue and a glare that was even deadlier. The first thing he had noticed about her was the fact you didn’t fuck with her.

  “The first memory I have of Miller is of us in kindergarten,” he said. “We both dressed up as C3PO for Halloween at the school party. You know, the gold robot from Star Wars. He threatened to punch me if I didn’t take mine off.”

  “I hope you punched him first.”

  “I was six,” Darrell replied dryly. “I kicked him in the shin. He started crying and he told the teacher I was the one who threatened him about the mask. I had to sit out of the party.”

  “What a jerk!”

  “Yep. I know you know how to handle yourself, but I’ve been wanting to punch Miller’s smug face for the past twenty-five years.”

  Church smiled and Darrell felt the air whoosh out of his chest. She didn’t do it often, but when she did, it took his breath away.

  “It must be horrible knowing everyone in town,” she said, shooting him a quick glance. “I only know a few people in Stevens and that’s bad enough.”

  “Oh come on now,” he gently teased. “We can’t be that awful.”

  She fell silent for a moment, then softly said, “No, not awful. Just not something I’m used to.”

  “Then why did you move here?”

  She shrugged, and in Church speak that answered everything she was going to say about the subject, offering no other explanation. By now he had learned to take it or leave it, so he took it and left it at that. He had realized Church would talk in her own time, when she was ready.

  They drove by the garage and she slowed down. He saw a few more Brothers had joined the others in the garage, all munching on doughnuts and drinking coffee, with Church’s client standing in the middle of the impromptu gala surrounded by old horny men.

  “I think Joe-Joe has rivals for the doctor’s attention,” he stated.

  The truck lurched forward, rolling past the garage. Surprised, he looked over at her, but she stared straight ahead. A few minutes later, she exited off the ramp that led onto Highway Sixty.

  “Where are we going?” Darrell asked.

  “I don’t know,” she replied. “What do people do around here to kill time?”

  “I’ve been driving a transport truck in the desert for the past eleven years,” he said. “I have no idea what passes for entertainment nowadays. When I was a kid we used to tip cows.”

  “I have no desire to go cow tipping.”

  “Neither do I,” he said. “Besides, we’d have to wait ’til they fell asleep at night.”

  “Then I guess we’re going to Cape Girardeau.”

  “Why?”

  “I need that alternator and I usually order from the wholesaler in Cape,” she replied. “It’s a good day for a little drive, I think.”

  “Cape is sixty miles away.”

  She shrugged. “It’s only an hour. You got a hot date or something?”

  “I think we both know the answer to that one, Farlander,” he said, tapping the prosthetic. “I’m not exactly whole.”

  “Something wrong with your dick?” she asked.

  He blinked. “What? No! Of course not.”

  “Then I don’t know what you mean by not whole. If you’re talking about your missing lower leg, that’s not something that detracts from being a man. If it was your pecker, then I’d suggest you talk to Joe-Joe because he’s got that shit figured out. Much to my horror.”

  She flashed another smile, winked, and once more his heart stuttered like he’d swallowed a double shot of espresso. Everyone thought she and Cherry were identical, but he saw the differences. Church’s eyes held a ribbon of purple, which made them more vibrant than her sister’s. Her nose turned up at the tip, just a little, softening the harshness of being a tad too thin. And of course the natural blonde of her hair had been covered up by a bad dye job, which he suspected she did herself. Still, she could be bald and her smile would still affect him because he liked her more than the surface beauty she had. He liked the fact that if she ever wrestled an alligator, she’d probably win. Not because she was big and strong, because her little body barely reached his shoulders, but because she’d be clever enough to figure out how to kill the fucking reptile with guts and determination. Like MacGyver on estrogen.

  “I know you can hold your own, Church,” he said, seriously. “If there’s a zombie apocalypse then you’d be the person I’d want at my back. Which is seriously fucked-up because I’m part of a motorcycle gang and I can’t stand the fucker in charge. But there it is and I just want you to know I have your back, whenever you need it.”

  She didn’t say anything, but then again, he knew she wouldn’t. His words were too deep, more than a little heartfelt, and if it was one thing Church absolutely did not do, it was emotions.

  Suddenly, a loud bang ricocheted through the truck. Church swore as the vehicle lurched and instantly, Darrell found himself back at the moment when the IED had blown up beside his transport vehicle. He no longer sat beside Church in Missouri, instead his mind catapulted him back to that place of sand and blood where his only companions had been confusion and panic. Not knowing if he was going to survive, or if his fellow soldiers were alive or dead. He cried out in fear because he’d been there before and he knew what was coming. Pain. Grief. Insanity. The only rational part of his mind wanted to protect the woman beside him, so he practically threw himself on top of her in an effort to shield her from the mortar rounds of shrapnel that would be flying at them, ready to tear their bodies apart in a hundred pieces. He braced himself t
o feel his flesh being ripped open, flayed like a helpless fish caught on a hook. He couldn’t run or hide, all he knew was he’d spend his last breath defending Church. And if the enemy came at them, he’d be the first one to end her life in a last-ditch effort to spare her the agony and humiliation that the fucking insurgents would inflict.

  “Darrell!” she screamed.

  He tightened his hold.

  “Darrell! It’s okay! We’re safe. We are both safe. Please, come back to me, Darrell. Open your eyes.”

  Slowly, her words penetrated through the blackened upheaval his mind had trapped him in, the fog hesitantly lifting. He blinked until her face came into focus, as the desert faded from the peripheral of his vision. Her concerned blue eyes became the center point of his world.

  “You’re safe, Darrell,” she murmured, cupping his cheek. “We’re both safe.”

  He took a deep breath and eased the death-grip he had on her arms. It was only then that he realized he lay half on her, and that he squished her body into the corner of the driver’s seat.

  “Jesus,” he muttered, immediately letting go. He pushed back, horrified to see red marks on her arms where he’d held her. “I … I … oh, fuck. I’m so sorry.”

  She shook her head. “Nothing to be sorry about. You were protecting me, weren’t you? From the enemies.”

  Jerkily, he nodded his head and ran a hand over his face. He shook, not from fear, but from the nightmare that still lingered in his mind.

  “A tire blew,” she continued. “That’s all it was.”

  He looked out the window and saw they were on the shoulder of Highway Sixty. “Tires don’t blow without a reason.”

  “They do when they’re threadbare,” she said dryly. “I knew they were on their last leg, so that combined with the heat and me hitting a large rock, well, all I can say is sorry.”

  “Don’t,” he said. His emotions were too fucked-up for him to think clearly. “You don’t have to apologize. Church, you know I’d never hurt you. Right?”

  “You didn’t hurt me, Darrell. I get the difference. Believe me, I do know how to tell between the two.”

  “Fuck.”