Take Aim and Reload (Forgotten Rebels MC Book 3) Page 5

  “Nobody is going to hurt anyone,” Wick said. “At least for right now. This is my clubhouse and my turf. Got it?”

  For a moment, Kix didn’t move. He stared at Church coldly, but she gave back as much as was giving. She didn’t budge and she didn’t blink.

  “Kix?” Wick prompted.

  Finally Kix relaxed and gave a rueful smile. He looked Church up and down. “Damn, girl, I don’t want to piss you off in a dark alley.”

  Church folded her arms across her chest. Cherry stepped aside, from behind her sister.

  “Y-you’re the group making methamphetamine from Warren Cabot’s pseudoephedrine?”

  “What the hell?” Slade’s outburst caused her jump. “How do you know that?”

  “Your club is named,” she said. She took a deep breath. “As well as a corporation called Complete Waste Services, which I can’t find any other documentation on except through Warren’s files. I can only conclude that it’s a dummy company he launders the drug through so he can sell to you without raising red flags to the DEA.”

  A silence descended on the room. Cherry looked at each man. “Don’t you know how wrong that is?”

  Kix’s eyes narrowed. He took a step toward her and this time it was Heart who stepped in his way. Kix held up his hands in a show of non-aggression, but his words were for Cherry.

  “There’s lots of things wrong in this world, and if wasn’t us, then it’d be the next group. At least with us, we can control who we sell it to.”

  She shook her head. “It doesn’t work like that. It gets distributed to minors who can’t control their addiction. When they can’t pay for it, they steal. When they can’t find it, they grow desperate. And when that desperation gets out of control, they end up dead.”

  Despite the precarious situation she just put herself in, pride for her swelled up in Heart. Cherry was obviously terrified, but that didn’t stop her from acting on what she seemed to consider the right thing to do. Church might be the brash one, but Cherry had a strength everyone underestimated, himself included.

  “There’s been talk among my men to get out of this business,” Wick suddenly said, breaking the unnatural stillness that had settled in the room. Kix blinked and looked at him, head cocked to one side.

  “Excuse me?” he asked.

  “You heard me,” Wick said. “Darrell coming back has raised some issues. My men are starting to rethink our deal.”

  “Your men will follow the rules you set out for them.”

  “You and I both know the club is a democracy,” Wick corrected. “We vote on issues, just like you do. Darrell came back from war, from the recovery bed next to service men and women struggling to get over addiction, and he’s vocal about The Forgotten Rebels getting out of running meth.”

  “We have a good thing here, Wick. Don’t fuck this up.”

  “You’re my brother-in-law, of course I don’t want to fuck this up,” Wick said. “But this is more than business.”

  “It’s all business,” Kix snapped.

  “If we don’t deal, then it leaves our route open for another club to take over,” Slade pointed out. “I know the money you just pulled in. You can’t tell us your club didn’t like the green.”

  “Some things are more important than money,” Cherry said.

  “Tell that to the men out there who are too old or too crippled to work,” Kix said, pointing toward the door. “Money makes this world go around, little girl. It talks louder than you do.”

  “For what price?”

  He frowned. “What?”

  “The price for your conscious. The price for your morals. The price for your soul.” Cherry lifted her chin. “I want to know how much you cost. Heart said you were a good man, so what’s the price of a good man’s betrayal?’

  Once more, a silence descended upon the room. Heart tensed, ready to fight in Cherry’s defense. He didn’t know if he should applaud her bravery or be pissed at her stupidity. Kix Rockwood was a dangerous man.

  “Perhaps we should talk more after we’ve all had a bite to eat,” Wick said.

  “Sounds like a plan,” Slade said quickly. “I’m feeling a bit peckish.”

  He grabbed Kix’s arm and tugged. They made their way to the door and the entire time Kix stared coldly at Cherry. Instead of cowering, however, she held his gaze with her little chin pointed up. But as soon as he was gone, she wilted like a flower denied water for too long, and sat heavily down in the chair Kix had just vacated.

  “Holy shit, woman, where’d you get your cojones?” Wick asked.

  “She’s as stubborn as a damn mule,” Church interjected, answering for her sister. “Always has been. She gets an idea in her head and she won’t let it go.”

  “I simply believe in fairness,” Cherry replied with a frown.

  “Well, more often than not fairness and Kix Rockwood don’t go hand in hand,” Heart muttered. “He’s made grown men cry.”

  “I would love to see you cry,” Church said sweetly, giving an obviously fake smile.

  Using one of her favorite gestures, he flipped her the bird.

  “Cherry,” Wick said in a low, urgent voice. She raised her head. “I need that evidence against Kix and Cabot Pharmaceuticals.”

  “I-I don’t have it here, of course,” she said.

  “Look—”

  “No, you look,” Church interjected. “We’re not dumb. We know that flash drive is the only thing keeping us alive.”

  “Actually,” he corrected, “the only thing keeping you alive is me. Kix is in my jurisdiction, so he’ll play nice, but you step one foot out of here and there’s nothing I can do.”

  “Then we’re prisoners,” Cherry said.

  “Until you produce the evidence, consider that a yes. Only you’ll have better food.”

  Church rolled her eyes.

  Wick turned to Heart. “Find them rooms, we’ll have church in an hour.”

  “Excuse me?” Church demanded.

  Heart chuckled. “Nobody here has any designs on your body. I’m sure your disposition has soured the meat. Church in a club is a meeting.”

  “Ha ha,” she said bitingly.

  Heart held out his hand toward Cherry. She hesitated for only a moment before sliding her smaller one into his. When they walked into the rec room, Heart immediately saw Piper, and for a moment the problems with Cherry and her evidence was pushed aside. He and Piper had always been close friends, ever since she had arrived on The Forgotten Rebels doorstep looking for sanctuary. At one point he had even thought about making her his ole’ lady, but then Kix Rockwood had come along and squashed that idea. Probably for the best anyway. The spark that existed between him and Cherry had been absent with Piper, and only now did he see the difference between the two.

  “Heart!” she called out from across the room and waved for him to come over. She stood next to a woman who looked familiar with long, brown hair and doe-like eyes. There was a weariness about her that made her seem far older than she looked and Heart wracked his brain, trying to remember from where he’d seen her before.

  Still holding Cherry’s hand, he walked toward them, and with every step, a memory began to take shape, one that was about a decade old. Still, it was hazy and the woman’s name was just out of reach.

  “Hi ya, Sissy,” he said, using Piper’s nickname. He gave a polite nod of acknowledgment to the other woman even as he tried to remember her name.

  “This is Wick’s woman,” Piper said in introduction. “Abbott Carney.”

  Just like that, the memory clicked into place. The last time he’d seen her she’d been holding a present for Wick.

  “Hi Eric,” she said.

  “Right. Abbott. How ya been? I see you finally caught up with Wick.”

  Abbott smiled. “Yeah. Took eleven years, though.”

  “Been that long? Well, Wick’s always been a little slow.”

  Piper held out her hand to Cherry. “Hi there, I’m Piper, Wick’s sister.”


  “And Kix’s wife,” Heart reminded her.

  She laughed. “Yeah. That’s still new to me.”

  He wondered how she could forget the large rock glinting off her left ring finger. The thing had to weigh a ton.

  Cherry shook Piper’s hand with her free one, which was the left, so it made for a backwards handshake. “Hello.”

  “I’m very glad Heart’s finally found—”

  “Yeah, okay!” Heart interrupted. He wanted to shut down Piper’s train of thought.

  “Cherry and Church are visiting and need some rooms.”

  Piper held up a hand. “Say no more. I’ll rustle up something.”

  “Do you have a garage?” Church asked, speaking up.

  “Behind the house,” Heart said. “I’m sure you can find a corner to curl up in if you wish to sleep there.”

  “Until my sister and I can get out of this madhouse, you can find me there,” Church said coolly. “That won’t be a problem will it?”

  “I don’t see why not,” Heart answered.

  She glared at each of them, even Cherry, before marching out the door. Heart saw Darrell get up and follow after her.

  “She seems … nice,” Piper said blandly.

  “She has a few issues,” Cherry replied.

  Piper nodded. “Obviously.”

  Chapter Seven

  Church straddled Heart’s bike, started it, and drove it around to the back of the house toward the garage, ignoring the stares of the men gawking at her. Since she was a woman in a man’s world, she’d received that exact stare numerous times before. All she could do was push back and be better. A better mechanic. A better rider. She had to constantly curse better, drink liquor better, and not give a fuck better than anyone else. It was exhausting, soul sucking, and it didn’t leave much room for happy relationships.

  Like with Cherry.

  Although she tried. She tried really hard to forget what had happened in the past, to move on from it and go back to the way things had been before the incident took place. But that was hard to do when nightmares still plagued her dreams.

  Church parked Heart’s bike in an empty garage bay and shut off the engine. Ignoring the men staring at her, she shrugged off her leather jacket and threw it over the top of a tool cabinet before opening to assess what she had to work with.

  “Ratchets are in the other one.”

  She glanced behind her to see the man named Darrell leaning against the bay wall. She flicked her gaze down at his fake leg before turning back around to head over to the cabinet he indicated. Opening the top drawers, she saw multitude rows of sockets.

  “Cool,” she said.

  He didn’t say anything as she began to get lost in the one thing that brought her joy. Fixing mechanical things. The first time she’d picked up a wrench, she knew she’d found her happy place. As she worked, she couldn’t help but be aware of the odd man who had followed her to watch her. Usually she just ignored the gawkers, but there was something strangely sad and compelling about Darrell.

  “Where’s your bike?” she asked him without looking at him.

  “Over there.”

  Out of her peripheral vision she saw he pointed to the right. She looked in that direction and saw an older Harley. A Fat Boy Lo, custom built by the looks of it. The factory fender struts had been removed and replaced with aftermarket upgrades, along with the front fender, the tank, seat, handlebars, and wheels. Longshot pipes gave it a badass sleek design.

  “I like it,” she said. “Why aren’t you off riding it?”

  “Can’t with this leg. I gave it a suicide clutch.”

  “Ah,” she said. “Bummer. Guess you’re regretting that decision now.”

  Silence. She knew he hadn’t left because she still felt him staring at her.

  “You always a bitch?”

  She turned to face him. “You always a pity party?”

  They stared at one another. He was good-looking, though not in the classical way. The angles of his face were a little too broad, his nose a little too pronounced. His hair was ruthlessly cut in the military flattop style that she really didn’t like, although it seemed to suit him in some weird way. The clothes he wore hung off his rather large frame, as if he’d lost too much weight in a short period of time.

  Past all that, though, she saw something else. His eyes were haunted. Bleak from darkness. Recognition rumbled through her. It was that very darkness that prevented her from being able to love. That had ripped her sister from her. That darkness had made her angry and it had made her sad, and it still made her unable to get over the past.

  She instantly saw it made him all of that too, maybe even more because God knew what he had lived through. Setting down the ratchet and socket, she walked over to him and put her hands on her hips.

  “No,” she said. “I’m not always a bitch. And I don’t believe you’re always a pity party.”

  “Does that make us both liars?”

  “Shhh,” she said, holding a finger up to her lips.

  One corner of his mouth curled up. “So what are we going to do about that?”

  For the first time since the fateful day that had changed her life, Church felt like she wasn’t completely alone in the darkness.

  ****

  “This is our room,” Heart said as he opened a door.

  Cherry halted on the threshold. The word our reverberated through her like a live wire, shocking yet exciting at the same time. She wasn’t stupid. She knew exactly what Heart was implying, and she had to admit the forbidden fruit certainly looked tempting.

  “Are there any other rooms?” she asked. Yearning wanted her to take his hand and let him lead her into the bedroom, but too many years of trying to be a good girl prevented her from completely skipping into debauchery.

  “Well, yeah, I guess so, but this is actually my room. I figured since your sister volunteered to sleep out in the garage, you could just, you know, bunk with me.”

  “You’d be expecting s-sex, though.”

  He cocked his head and studied her for a moment before gently taking hold of her elbow to bring her inside. He closed the door with a soft click and retreated back a few steps, giving her some room. “I’ve noticed you stutter when you’re nervous.”

  She gave him a wry smile. “S-started when I was seven. When my mother deserted me and Church.”

  “Did you and her go into the system?”

  “Yes,” she replied. She took a deep breath to steady herself. “For a time. Our maternal grandfather actually came for us, took us in. He raised us.”

  “I can relate,” he said. “My parents weren’t good people, so my aunt and uncle took over. My uncle just passed recently.”

  “Oh. I’m very sorry, Heart.”

  He nodded his thanks. “I’d been with my aunt this past month helping her get everything settled. I was on my way back here when that deer jumped in front of my bike.”

  She thought back from that moment she’d discovered him lying on the road. Hard to believe that had only been a few days ago.

  “Did you…” she faltered, not sure how to phrase her question. He was the perfect opportunity to ask about the thoughts that had plagued her for years. She cleared her throat. “Did you ever think that the genes your parents passed onto you could manifest?”

  He raised an eyebrow and then turned and limped toward the bed. When he sat, he patted the spot next to him. “If we’re going to have a long talk about ourselves, perhaps we can be a little more comfortable. My knee is aching.”

  She had a feeling sitting on the bed was probably not a good idea, but like Eve and the apple, she took a bite. And as soon as her hip touched his, she realized just how Eve succumbed to temptation. His nearness caused butterflies to dance in her belly, sending chill bumps over her skin. An ache settled between her thighs and she shifted in hope of relieving it, only the seam of her jeans seemed to make it a little worse.

  “To answer your question,” he said, seemingly oblivious to h
er distraction. “No, I never thought whatever traits my parents’ DNA contained would ever control my life. My uncle taught me that we’re the masters of our fate.”

  His words jarred with her own thoughts. There wasn’t a doubt in her mind that if she didn’t hold onto her beliefs, she’d be as despicable as her mother.

  “Maybe men and women are different,” she said.

  “You mean more than in the fundamental way?”

  “Yes,” she replied. “I don’t want to turn out like my mother.”

  “What did she do?”

  “She made bad life choices.”

  Heart snorted. “We all do that from time to time.”

  “Hers were one right after another,” Cherry said. “Church and I have no idea who our father was. She ran away from home, got pregnant at sixteen, and never took care while we were in her womb. We were born too early, even for twins. Luckily, she’d been in some shelter and the people running it called the paramedics or we might have ended up thrown in the trash.”

  “Jesus,” he muttered.

  “Like I said, our grandfather picked us up when we were seven. It had taken him that long to find us.”

  “Sounds like a happy ending.”

  She nodded. “But I remember her. My mother. She was always angry. Always yelling. Drinking. I don’t know when it occurred to me, but at a young age I knew I didn’t want to be like the person who had given birth to me.”

  “I think that right there is the difference between you and her,” he said softly. “You recognized the bad decisions she’d made, even if you didn’t understand them at the time.”

  “I suppose.”

  “But?”

  “But I made sure I wouldn’t be like her.”

  “In what way?”

  “I made a conscious decision to do everything opposite from the choices she’d made,” Cherry said. “I focused on my schoolwork. I never dated. I went to college. I got a respectable job.”

  “You walked the straight and narrow.”

  “Yes.”

  She looked him in the eye and tried to will him to understand what was difficult to say. But he simply stared at her in expectation, waiting for her to finish her story. She sighed.