Wicked Man (Forgotten Rebels MC Book 2) Page 5

  “Ah shit,” he muttered.

  “Hmm?”

  “I didn’t wear a condom. I’m sorry. I, ah, forgot.”

  She stared at him in horror and pulled her arms from around his neck. “I … I … need to clean myself up.”

  He let her go and she turned toward the bathroom.

  “Abbott, it’s okay,” he said, wanting to assure her. “If something happens I’ll be there with you.”

  She took a deep breath and nodded, although he got a funny feeling in the pit of his stomach. Like a dark cloud passing over a crystal clear sky, something dark had just cast a shadow upon them.

  Chapter Six

  Light streamed through the window when Wick opened his eyes, and he glanced at the bedside clock to confirm the time. He had Church in half an hour. As he stretched, an arm slid around his waist and a warm, contented feeling filled his soul. Abbott was with him, and everything was right in his world. He closed his eyes and simply took in the moment, savoring it. He turned his head and saw she was still asleep, so he just took in her beauty. She was a tad too thin, and the stress of her life had added an edge that sharpened the angles of her face. While awake, she seemed a little … brittle. On edge. As if she was waiting for the other shoe to drop. And his forgetting to wear a condom definitely had wrecked something, though he didn’t quite know what. She’d not talked about it after her shower and her silence made him sad. He knew exactly who was to blame.

  If he ever got his hands wrapped around the throat of Billy Walker he’d take great pleasure in killing the fucker.

  Careful not to disturb Abbott because she needed the rest, he got out of bed and headed into the small bathroom. Aware of the time, he took no more than a few minutes in the shower before leaving it to dry off. Back in his room, he opened a couple of dresser drawers and pulled out the first clean clothes he had, which no surprise, were black. He headed downstairs, grabbed some coffee, and entered Church.

  The coffee was weak and he grimaced. He really missed Piper’s coffee as well as her bringing breakfast and lunch to everyone while in Church. His sister made the best bacon. Not too burned, not too under done.

  Wick sat the cup down on the table and noticed a bag by his chair. He peeked inside and saw leather. Satisfied, he stood at the front of the table, watching as the senior members came in and took their seats. Heart wasn’t there, of course, so he nodded toward the empty chair for Darrell to sit. When everyone was comfortable, he sat down and banged the gavel.

  “Let’s begin,” he said. “First up I’d like to report that Heart’s uncle died so he’s gone to be with his aunt and help her out. I’m not sure when he’ll be home, but I’ve told him to take his time.”

  “So who’s going to be road captain on the next run?” Striker asked. He was a big bald man who loved to watch stupid parody movies, which was where he’d gotten his nickname. He’d quoted Airplane! one too many times.

  “You can, if you want to,” Wick said with a shrug. “Unless anyone wants to challenge Striker?”

  Head shakes were his answer. Striker folded his arms and leaned back in his chair, looking pleased. Wick didn’t care who was road captain, as long as the run got done. This would be their first run riding with the White Death MC, through new territory, so there was a lot depending on a smooth journey. In return for distribution of their product, they were to be introduced to the White Death’s supplier of pseudoephedrine. Wick trusted Heart impeccably, but he also knew Striker wouldn’t let anything happen to their inventory.

  “Then it’s settled,” he said. “Striker will be road captain when Heart is not able to. Now, the other aspect to this meeting is the official patching in of our returned Brother, Darrell McBryde.”

  The men banged their fists on the table top in a show of their approval. Wick picked up the bag that lay next to his chair. From the inside, he pulled out a brand new leather cut and laid it down upon the table with the patch of the Forgotten Rebels MC featured prominently. He noticed Darrell couldn’t take his eyes off the vest.

  “On behalf of the Forgotten Rebels, I would like to thank you for your service to our country,” Wick said, reciting the official indoctrinate greeting. “But now it’s time to hang up your dog tags and wear the colors of a forgotten hero.”

  He held out the cut and with trembling hands, Darrell took it. He traced over the new patches with a fingertip while the men clapped and whistled.

  “All that’s missing is your name,” Striker said.

  “You could go with Peg Leg,” one man suggested. The others chuckled.

  “Man of Steel,” another said.

  The names came flying out. Tripod. Spare Parts.

  “Pogo is still my top pick,” Wick murmured.

  “Thanks,” Darrell said dryly. “But if any of you fuckers call me those names I’ll kick your ass.”

  “One legged man in an ass kicking contest,” Striker snickered.

  The men laughed, and Darrell grinned as he slipped on his cut.

  “All right,” Wick said, deciding to take pity on Darrell. “We’ll have a party tonight to celebrate your return. Now, we should talk about the run scheduled—”

  “Actually I have something to say,” Darrell said, speaking up. “I want to propose a notion of ending our drug business.”

  One second they’d been laughing and teasing one another, the next silence descended as everyone stared at Darrell in shock. Anger flashed through Wick.

  “You don’t get to propose a notion, Darrell,” he said tightly. “Especially not one that requires a full member vote.”

  “Why not? I am a member now.”

  “There’re procedures for how this works,” Wick replied. “You can’t simply repeal a unanimous decision with a blindsided announcement.”

  “Then how do I go about it?” Darrell asked. “Or are you going to shut me down every time?”

  “If you feel that passionately about it, I’ll take it under consideration,” Wick said.

  Darrell snorted derisively and looked around the table. “I spent a year in rehab learning how to fucking walk again after my leg got blown off. I shared a hospital with all the soldiers addicted to the shit we peddle in an effort to mask their pain. So when I come back here and see that we’re contributing to hardships of our fellow soldiers, I know what we’re doing is wrong. We’re part of their problem.”

  Some of the members shifted in their seats and Wick just wanted to punch Darrell for the insubordination. He hadn’t had the cut five minutes and already he was shaming what they did to make money.

  “This was put to a vote, Darrell,” he said tightly. “The club agreed this was what they wanted. You can’t undo that without another vote, and you have no authority to bring one about.”

  Darrell shook his head. “You’re not listening to me. Everyone here has served their country so you know what I’m talking about. Too many of our brothers and sisters in arms are struggling, looking for a way out. Some by suicide, some by drugs. We’re hypocrites if we run meth.”

  Wick pointed his finger to the door. “Leave, Darrell. You’re dismissed from Church.”

  “You’re kicking me out because you don’t want to listen to the truth?”

  “No, I’m kicking you out of here because you’re not obeying protocol.”

  “Fuck protocol!” Darrell yelled. “You’re not listening to me! But I don’t know why I’m surprised. You’ve always had your own agenda, Wick.”

  “Enough, Darrell,” Wick snapped.

  Darrell held up his hands. “And that’s the problem. No one ever fucking listens, do they? You get a stack of hundreds lining your pockets and suddenly your moral obligation seems too heavy to carry, but I’ve been there myself, Wick. I scrapped the bottom of the barrel and it’s an ugly place to be.”

  He took one last look around the table, at each man, staring lastly at Wick. Bitterness lined every bracket on his face and a thread of remorse rolled through Wick upon seeing it. He hadn’t wanted the club to be
come drug dealers, but he’d though it best at the time the vote had gone through. The men needed money, and living in southeast Missouri didn’t provide a whole helluva lot of options for men like them. But Darrell’s words reminded him that things weren’t always so black and white, and the path to hell was often lined with good intentions.

  He didn’t say anything, though, and only watched as Darrell turned and stormed out of Church, slamming the door behind him. The man had given him lots to think about.

  His phone buzzed and he glanced at the text message. From Parky, letting him know cops had just shown up outside the compound, asking to come in.

  “We’ve got a fucking problem,” he said to the others. “Seems like the good sheriff has decided to darken our doorstep.”

  He banged the gavel, ending Church, and hurried from the room. Members were already hiding shit in the clubhouse, and the girls were cleaning frantically.

  “Striker,” he said. “With me.”

  The two of them left the clubhouse and headed over the yard to the bolted gate. He nodded a greeting at the prospect in the tower keeping watch, and then unlocked the door to greet the police.

  “Afternoon, Wick,” Sheriff McCoy said and gave him a rueful smile. “Sorry to bother you but my office received a very unusual complaint via email, and I have to follow up on it.”

  “Complaint?” Wick asked, cocking his head. “About what?”

  “Well, about the fact that you’ve kidnapped a woman.”

  Wick blinked. “Is that a joke?”

  Sheriff McCoy shook his head. “Afraid not.”

  “And just who am I supposed to have kidnapped?”

  “A woman by the name of Abbott Carney,” the sheriff replied.

  Wick shared a grim look with Striker. “Yes, she’s here, but I didn’t kidnap her.”

  The sheriff frowned. “Oh. Well, I’m afraid I’m going to have to see her and talk with her, Wick. Procedure.”

  Wick turned to Striker. “Go get Abbott.”

  “Sure,” he said, and gave the sheriff a hard look before turning and marching back to the clubhouse.

  “What’s going on, Wick?” Sheriff asked him in a low voice.

  “I’m afraid you got played,” Wick said. “Abbott’s been on the run from a man named Billy Walker for years. Hiding from him. I’m guessing this email you got is just a way of him saying he found her.”

  “Christ, and I just confirmed it for him, didn’t I?”

  Wick nodded. “But I kinda figured he’d make his way here sooner or later. The man’s been tracking her.”

  “So you think this man is in Stevens?”

  “Call it a gut instinct.”

  Just then the door to the clubhouse opened and Abbott rushed through, hurrying up to stand by his side. She had a wild, terrified look in her eyes that he didn’t like at all.

  “Was it your personal email or was it sent generically to the department’s inbox?” she asked without greeting either of them.

  The sheriff scratched his beard. “Are you Abbott Carney?”

  “I am,” she confirmed. “I’m sorry, Sheriff, but where was the email sent?”

  “Now that you mention it, it was sent to my personal email, which is odd because I don’t give out that information.”

  “That’s because you’ve been hacked,” she said grimly.

  “I’ll admit I’m not very computer savvy, but I do know about firewalls,” the Sheriff said skeptically. “The department has one.”

  “Firewalls don’t mean anything to Billy,” she said. “I think he’s been tracking me through my computer. It’s the only thing I can think of.”

  “Miss Carney, if that’s true, there are proper channels you can go through for protection—”

  Abbott wrapped her arms around herself and shook her head. “I’m afraid not, Sheriff, but thanks for the concern. As you can see, I’m fine, and I’m here at my own free will.”

  Sheriff McCoy looked like he wanted to argue more, but she turned her face away. He sighed and tipped his hat. “I’m sorry to bother you, Miss Carney. Have a nice day, Wick.”

  He turned and left their doorway. Wick watched as the sheriff got into his cruiser, waved, and drove away. When he looked down at Abbott, she was frantically staring around the outside perimeter.

  “What’s the matter?”

  “He’s here,” she whispered. “I can feel him breathing down my neck. Watching me. I have to go. I have to—”

  Wick grabbed hold of her shoulders, cutting off her rambling panic. “You don’t have to do anything but get on my bike so we can go for a ride.”

  “But he’s out there, right now!”

  “And you don’t have to fight this alone anymore, Abbott. I’m right here.” He held out his hand.

  ****

  He held out his hand and for a moment, she simply stared at it. If she took hold of it, she was condemning him to a future where Billy could and would torment him. Sending the sheriff would be just the beginning of a nightmare for the Forgotten Rebels, and she was positive the club had secrets Wick wouldn’t want to get out.

  “Do you know what you’re taking on?” she asked.

  “All I know is that I can’t and won’t ever live without you again,” he said.

  “You don’t even know me. Not this version of Abbott Carney.”

  He gave her a tender smile and brushed some hair off her forehead. “Time changes the outside shell, but not what’s in the heart. Everything that really matters is in there.”

  Tears welled up in her eyes. How could he be so damn charming at a time when her world was cracking apart again? Against everything inside screaming at her to run, Abbott slipped her hand into his, holding tight.

  Wick smiled, bent to kiss her lightly on the lips. “Let’s go for a ride. Clear our heads.”

  “Okay,” she murmured. Now that she had surrendered to the love in her heart, she’d follow him to the moon and back.

  He led her to a bike. In the bright sunshine she had to admire the black leather and polished chrome. The Forgotten Rebels MC logo was airbrushed on the fender. He handed her a helmet and she put it on, adjusting the straps. He got on the motorcycle and started it up. The engine roared, causing little sparks to ignite through her body. She slipped on behind him and wrapped her arms around his waist. He patted her hands and then off they went, soaring out of the compound and onto the road.

  It was a perfect day for a ride through the countryside. The sun dominated the cerulean sky, while cotton ball clouds cast peak-a-boo shadows onto the ground. Abbott closed her eyes and took in the moment of having a beast of a machine pulsing between her thighs while she clung to the man she loved. For a moment, she forgot about all the evil lurking in her shadow, waiting for the chance to snatch her and drag her to hell.

  It took her a little while to figure out that Wick was headed to Lake Wappapello, the forty-five thousand acre reservoir that was a popular fishing, boating, swimming and camping spot. It’d been years since she’d last been there, and over time a small community seemed to have developed around the vast area. He parked at one of the picnic areas that also had a small beach and she smiled as she watched children frolic in the water.

  “Ever think about having kids?” Wick asked.

  She smiled wistfully. “Of course.”

  “You kinda freaked out on me last night, after I forgot about protection,” he said. “I promise I’m clean.”

  “It wasn’t that,” she replied.

  “Then what?”

  She turned away from the children and looked up at him. Subconsciously she understood that Wick’s actions would never mirror Billy Walker’s, but the fear still lodged deep down was hard to break free from. The trauma still had her flinching from shadows from time to time. She’d gotten better, however, over the years. Had learned to forgive herself over certain circumstances that most people wouldn’t understand, but one careless moment in the height of pleasure threatened to tumble the house of cards she’d
built around herself.

  She opened her mouth to say one thing, but what came out was completely different. “It’s something I don’t want to talk about right now.”

  He frowned. “One day?”

  She nodded. “I promise. How about we go for a nice walk around the water’s edge?”

  He held out his hand and she linked her fingers through his, savoring how her heartbeat sped up at the contact. Wick always had that magic touch that caused her nerve endings to sizzle with awareness. With just one touch, he turned her on.

  “I couldn’t help but overhear your conversation with Darrell,” Abbott said. “I take it your main way of making money is drug running.”

  He tensed. “That’s Church business, Abbott. I can’t talk about that with you.”

  She nodded, as if she understood, but she didn’t. Not really. “Have you ever used drugs?”

  He shrugged. “Nothing hard core. Just smoked a little. Popped some pills. What about you?”

  “I did heroin once,” she replied. By the way he jerked to a halt she knew she’d managed to surprise him. “Billy’s a user, so of course he’d get me to use.”

  “Jesus,” he muttered.

  “Don’t worry, I only did it once. Turns out I’m allergic to the stuff. Ended up in the emergency room puking my guts up with an arm swollen twice its size. Scared the hell out of me.”

  “Billy did that to you?”

  “He injected me, but it was my decision to try it.” For a moment, that helpless feeling came back, squeezing her insides so tightly she felt a little lightheaded. “I thought I was dying. The doctor said I was lucky. I carry those antihistamine strips in my pocket, just in case, you know?”

  “Fuck, Abbott!” He took a few steps away from her and put his hands on his hips as he stared out over the vast water of the lake. “He’s dead, you know.”

  “Don’t say that,” she said. “You’re better than him.”

  He spun to look at her. “Listen, there’s no justice he can face, no red tape he can hide behind that’ll keep him safe from me. He stole you with lies, put you through hell. Of course I’m going to fucking kill him.”