Rebel Wayfarers MC Boxset 4

by MariaLisa deMora

  She did recognize him. Samuel Rogers, a defenseman for Fort Wayne. Sammy. Sam. Hoss’ son. She nodded.

  “Gonna let me in?” Even before she finished shaking her head, he was laughing. “Deserve that, scaring a pretty lady like I did.” He smiled. “Can you hear me okay?”

  She nodded, her chest so tight with fear, rigid with it, she couldn’t have spoken if she wanted to.

  “Okay. So here’s the deal. Dad’s a really good guy. Like...really good. Sucked for him that my mom died like she did. They were just starting their lives and she was gone. Sucked bad, but he didn’t let that stop him being a great dad. Infant daughter, traumatized just-adopted son, wife dead—would have been easy for him to check out. Let the willing aunts and uncles in there to help him deal. But he didn’t. He did what needed doing, even as it sucked.”

  He took a breath. “Sucked so bad sometimes, can’t tell you. Just no words. But he just did whatever was needed. Helping and healing all of us along the way. I love him so much.” He paused, then said, “You getting this?” She nodded again.

  “You’re dating Dad, and you’ve made him happy. First time in a long time. Do you know why?” At his question, she shook her head vehemently and he nodded. “Didn’t expect you to. Not really. But I overheard Dad talking to Uncle Tugboat a while ago. Then I talked to Tug. And I see from your face that’s unwelcome news. I thought you needed to know how he is. What it means to him that you’ve let him in, you know?” She knew she had paled, felt the first wave of dizziness break over her. No, not now.

  “He shared with Uncle Tug what happened to you. Tugboat knew it had to be bad. With what you’d already told him and the way you acted, skittish and frightened in a way that told its own story? He knew it would have to be bad. And Dad shared just how bad.” He paused again and she saw him openly struggling with his emotions, mouth twisting to the side as he tried to keep control. “You sure I can’t come in?”

  As if in a dream, she saw her hand reach out and unlock the door. Cassie took three quick steps backwards, until her shoulders hit the opposite wall. She watched in horrified fascination as the doorknob turned, and the door inched open, with first a foot entering her kitchen, followed by the big, wide-shouldered body of a professional athlete. “Thanks,” he said softly, twisting to shut the door. He faced her and settled his shoulders against the surface, hands tucked behind his back, staying across the room. Voice quiet, he told her, “I’ll stand here, by the door.” She nodded and directed her gaze to the center of his broad chest.

  “Did you know I was taken from my mom when I was little? My...the sperm donor who tried to kill me before I was born came and kidnapped me, took me all the way to Alabama before I was rescued.”

  Still unable to speak, she shook her head, but her eyes inched upward until her gaze met his. There was a warmth in his blue eyes that told her a lot of things. This man felt things deeply, and he was concerned. His eyes held so much concern she knew it was more than his dad, more than a memory of things that happened to him when he was small. He was concerned for her. A woman he probably didn’t even remember meeting all those years ago.

  “Mama about lost her mind. And, Daddy? He did lose his until I was safe, and by safe I don’t mean out of that bastard’s hands. But until the bruises faded, until the woman I talked to for three years said it no longer dealt me any blows. I dealt with it because he took it on, protected me from the bullshit. Held me when my mom died. Held me while I held Faynez, told me without speaking that he had me. He. Had. Me. Without me asking, he did that. Because he cared, because he loves me.” He took a breath and she felt her lungs expand along with his, as if she’d held herself tight against what she knew was coming.

  “He wants to be that for you. He knows he can’t fix it, although God knows he wants to. That’s gonna bleed from him every time he looks at you. Bleed. But, he can’t fix it, so he’ll settle for being there and holding on. Holding on so you don’t have to spend that energy, he’ll hold on for both of you.” He shook his head. “You might think you need to do all this on your own. That’s not true, you know? You can give some of it to him and he’ll take it. He’s strong enough to hold on, and he will. He’ll hold on because he needs you, and he’ll take you just as you are. Thought he wanted to fix you, which he would, because that’s just the kind of man he is. But you forgot he fell in love”—when he said this, her eyes closed, shutting out the pain in this boy’s eyes—“with the woman who freaked out. With the complex, frustrating, unbelievably strong and brave woman you are. His words.” He paused and she blinked, clearing the tears from her eyes so she could see him. “Cassie, he’s started painting again. He’s started living in ways that thrill the shit out of me and my sister. Because he needs beauty in his life and you are the most beautiful thing he’s ever held in his hands. His words to Uncle Tug. He needs you.”

  Slowly, she became aware he had stopped talking and she had begun crying, somewhere in the middle of his words. Those words that underscored the thought that she had found something worth holding onto. “I love him,” she whispered.

  “Yeah,” he whispered back, just as softly. “That’s clear. And he loves you, too. You just gotta keep letting him in.”

  “I want to fix him.” Her words were scarcely loud enough to be heard, but he nodded slowly, eyes locked to hers. Even through her tears she could still see the caring he wore like a shield. “I want to keep him. All the time. He’s in my whole life. I won’t throw that away.”

  “Even if you tried, I suspect he wouldn’t go far,” Sammy said, and she watched as the beauty of his smile broke across his face. “One phone call away.”

  “What do I say?”

  “Start with hello,” he advised and then grinned. “See where that takes you.”

  Kids are kids

  Faith

  “God.” Staring at the ceiling, Faith started counting squares again. She’d been trying to ignore the slamming and shouting from the kitchen for the past half an hour, unsuccessfully. Scooting up in the bed, she leaned against the headboard and sighed, settling her tablet on her lap.

  “Faynez, come here.” Sammy was yelling at her again, for the third time in twenty minutes. “I need your help.”

  “You need help,” she muttered in quiet agreement, angling forwards and fluffing her pillow before leaning back. Lifting her voice, she shouted back, “Tell me again why you’re here?”

  “Because Dad had club business out of state, and you’re just a wee, bitty baby who can’t be trusted to stay on her own.” His voice had grown in volume as he spoke, coming closer with every word. “So I had to promise to be here and keep the teenaged partying under control, or at least to a minimum.” Three sharp raps on her door, then the doorknob turned. Halfway. The wood bowed in as if he’d leaned against it, expecting it to open. “Hey,” he sounded genuinely aggrieved. “Why’s your door locked?”

  “Because I’m tired of you just walking in and flopping on my bed.” She touched the edge of the tablet to bring up the e-reader program. “I’m reading, brother dearest. Not doing keg stands or playing spin the bottle with the dozens of boyfriends I’ve got stashed under my bed.” She located her book and tapped the cover, snuggling back against the pillow. “So you’re safe from having to deal with me tonight. Go and chat with your groupies. I’m sure you can have a heavy sexting session going on in less than five minutes if you’re bored.”

  “But I’m am bored.” Her doorknob clicked and Faith angled her gaze that direction in time to see it turn fully. “And hungry, so I made food. But I can’t find placemats for the table. And I don’t flop.” Her door opened and Sammy stuck his head into the gap, broad grin firmly fixed into place. “Found you.” He chortled and pushed the door wide, coming in and standing next to her bed. She barely got her feet and legs out of the way before he flung himself backwards, bouncing the mattress and jostling her. “You can’t hide from me, Faynez.” He gave her a mock glare. “I’ll always find you. I’m the best at hide and se
ek, always have been.”

  “Undefeated champion, I know.” She shook her head. “That just then? That was you flopping, just for the record.” His glare turned to a grin. “Placemats are in the cabinet beside the oven.” She sniffed. “What did you make? I can’t smell anything from here.” Sniffing again, she gave up on reading and turned the tablet off, setting it on the nightstand. It beeped when it synced with the charging pad and she rolled back to see Sammy staring at her computer.

  “Who’s that?” He sat up and Faith scrambled to get off the bed first, launching herself and racing him to the desk. He grappled for control of the mouse for a moment but gave up when she gave a cry of pain at how his fingers clamped down hard on hers. She closed the window just as he leaned close to read, lips moving. Straightening, he turned a steely gaze on her, and Faith watched as his face transformed, changing from the sweet and loving brother she’d known all her life, to a hard and distant man who radiated anger. “Who the fuck was that?” All elements of play had left his voice, too, and she shivered at the raking edge of command in his tone. This was the hockey captain, the team leader, and a man who expected answers when he asked questions. For all he didn’t share genetics with their dad, Sammy sure seemed the spitting image of him when he was like this. “Not asking to hear my own voice here, Faith Inez.” His lips pursed and she saw a muscle pulse in his jaw for a moment. “Who the fuck was that you were chatting with?”

  “Ohhh, he brought out my full name. Should I be scared, Samuel Isaiah?” She went through the motions of shutting down the computer manually, not trusting her voice not to shake if she used voice commands. “He’s Nonya, if you have to know.”

  “Nonya? What the fuck kind of fucked up name is that?” Sammy turned to glare at the empty screen. “Nonya?”

  “Nonya Business.” Faith rolled her eyes when Sammy swung to snarl at her. “Seriously, Sammy. Who I chat with isn’t any of your business. It’s not like I invited him over to meet the fam or anything.” She sniffed again, any odors of his cooking still eluding her. “What did you cook? I don’t smell anything.”

  “Cereal. And it’s probably soggy by now. You’re welcome.” He brushed past her and paused in the doorway. “Dad know you’re talking to a guy in college? Oh, yeah,”—he mocked her shocked face, pulling his mouth into a perfect O as he plastered his palms to his cheeks—“I read that part, him talking about classes and parties. I also—” He turned back to face her. “—read what you wrote him back. Don’t be thinking you can head over to campus and just hang out in his dorm room, Faynez. Because a man like that? He’s not interested in just hanging out with a little girl like you. Man like that? He’s got one thing on his mind.”

  “Man like that?” She imitated his growling tone and shook her head. “What does that even mean? You saw his picture and read like two lines of an hours-long conversation.” His gaze sharpened and she kicked herself for giving him that much. She would have to uninstall the chat app or he’d be in her computer and try to get at the history. I do not want him reading parts of that. Faith felt her cheeks get warm. “He’s just someone to blow off steam with from the safety of my room, Sammy. I’m not planning on meeting him anywhere.” She hoped he didn’t hear the lie in her words, quickly pushing past into safer territory. “Back down, bruiser. Nobody to whomp on here. It’s nothing, Sammy. Just a chat.” She walked towards him, stymied for a moment when he didn’t move. She shoved at his shoulder and only succeeded in rocking herself backwards in place. “Jesus, Sammy, move already. You made cereal. Let’s go eat before it really is ruined. Did you want to watch a movie? You said you were bored, right?”

  “I know what you’re doing, you know.” He shook his head and glared back at the computer for a moment before walking out of her bedroom. “I’m going to regret it, but I’m letting you get away with it this time.”

  “Because you’re the best big brother a person could have.” She pushed past him into the hallway and turned, walking backwards towards the kitchen. “The best.”

  “Yeah, yeah. Flattery won’t get you any points with me. I’m immune.” He studied her for a moment, his gaze severe. “You won’t do anything stupid, right? You’re smarter than that, and I know it. Just promise me you won’t do anything stupid and I won’t tell Dad.”

  “I won’t do anything stupid,” she told him quickly, covering her heart with one palm. “Promise.”

  ***

  Sammy

  The movie Faynez had picked out droned on in the background, but Sammy hadn’t paid attention beyond what it took to get his sister involved in the drama playing out on the screen. The screen of his phone lit up and he cut a quick glance at her to ensure she was still focused on the TV before he pulled it to where he could see.

  I’ll see what I can do.

  That was a response from Myron to the text Sammy had sent more than an hour ago.

  Faynez thought she was being so slick with her distractions and pulling Sammy from the room. But, he’d seen enough. A man, not a boy, had been texting with her, commiserating with some made-up complaint she had about feeling stifled living here. What the fuck kind of name is Drago, anyway? The brief glimpse Sammy had of the conversation had his hackles up, but he knew his sister. If he pushed it now, she would withdraw and cover her tracks so neither he nor their dad would have any real idea of what’d been going on.

  I wish Mama were here. He let the sadness that thought carried with it roll over him for a moment. It was something he wished for every day, every hour sometimes. Not meant to be. Gritting his teeth until the bones of his jaw ached, he stifled the pain that was never far below the surface. Sometimes it was best to address it head-on, and he ran his schedule for tomorrow through his head.

  Mandatory skate in the morning, then conditioning for four hours, but at least there wasn’t a game. That meant after five or six in the evening he’d be free. It’s been too long, he thought, and settled deeper into the couch cushions, waiting. When the ending credits started rolling, he let Faynez slip in a couple of fake-as-fuck yawns, then he pounced.

  “Be here at six tomorrow night. We’ll do dinner, then go see Mom.” Her head whipped towards him and he knew he’d been right. She had something planned on the sly, and it wasn’t going to happen on his watch. “I haven’t been out there in too long, and I miss her. Want my Faynez with me when I go.” He held back a scowl as she glanced at the hallway before nodding. At least the guilt trip worked.

  His phone vibrated soundlessly again and he glanced down to see a new message from Myron.

  I can’t look at it for a couple of days, but I’ve pulled a backup. Even if she deletes it, I’ve got whatever’s on there now.

  Faynez pushed to her feet and stretched, then fake-yawned again. “I’m headed to bed. I’ll read for a bit, but I’m tired. See you tomorrow.”

  “Six, be here.”

  She nodded. “Will do, brother of mine.”

  “Love you, Faynez.” He reached out and gripped her hand, giving it a squeeze, hoping she’d take that with her so he could be the angel on her shoulder when that computer screen called her name.

  She squeezed back and smiled down at him. God, so pretty. She looked just like their mother, and he caught his breath at the grief that ripped through him. “Love you, too.”

  He let her stroll up the hallway before he picked up the phone and tapped a message back to Myron. Thanks. Let me know if there’s anything to worry about. He paused, then sent another message. Don’t tell Dad yet. Let’s see what trouble she’s into.

  Myron sent back a single letter, but the Y blinking at him from the screen was both a message received and agreement to keep the peace for now.

  ***

  Faith

  Easing the door closed, Faith waited a moment before she locked it. She listened intently to be certain Sammy wasn’t coming to harass her again, because that was just how he rolled. She wasn’t stupid by any means, and knew dropping the topic of the chat he’d seen earlier was just Sammy b
iding his time. He would wait, let her get comfortable, make her think he’d forgotten everything, and then ambush her.

  Time to take things into my own hands.

  With a trembling finger, she touched the button and booted the computer up. Waiting through the cycle was torture, even though logically she knew it was fast. Moments later she was staring at the screen. Faith gave Sammy’s anger one final thought, and then shook her head. He doesn’t run my life. Two clicks later, she’d launched the chat software and an active window was already blinking across the bottom. She touched the bar and it filled the screen with message after message from Drago.

  Even as she stared at them, trying to read quickly and still make sense of it all another message slid into place at the top of the window.

  Faith, baby? Are you there?

  Are you mad at me?

  Faith, not Faynez. She liked that even after she’d told him of the baby name her family had given her, he’d never used it. Not once. She was always Faith to him. And him adding baby? She sighed.

  Positioning her hands over the keyboard, she slowly typed out her answer. Once she began to tell him the story of her evening, she took a deep breath, pushing down her traitorous feelings at doing something she knew her brother didn’t want.

  They carried on, chatting deep into the night, Faith pausing at intervals so he could respond, smiling at how perfect those responses were. How much he got her. Drago just understood everything about her.

  Baby. Just the one word made her throat close tightly and she swallowed hard against threatening tears. What can I do?

  She told him, and the broadly smiling emoji he sent in response was answer enough.

  ***

  Hoss

  The music from the stage swelled louder and spilled over into the narrow strip between the food vendors and up into the campgrounds. This meant the Rebels could sit around their fire and enjoy the band without having to deal with patch chasers down in the crowds. Hoss had decided early on that their attention wasn’t something he’d ever missed, and the next drunk woman who tried to grab his junk might just lose a hand.