Rebel Wayfarers MC Boxset 4

by MariaLisa deMora

  “I couldn’t let anything happen to her.” Heat settled between her shoulder blades in the shape of a hand, and she knew the big man next to her was steadying her, instinctively knowing she needed it. “You love her so much, Hoss.”

  “God. Are you okay, Cassie?” The concern for her bled through his tone and she felt her lips curl up into a small smile. “Baby, are you okay?”

  “Yeah, I am. Everything’s…everyone’s okay.” Clearing her throat, she told him what had happened, needing to get it out of her head because if she tried to keep it to herself it would fester and poison her. “Garrett saved us. They were supposed to release her for me, but that one man,” she shivered, remembering his dead gaze, “Bedlam, he threw everything for a loop. We’re so lucky Garrett came when he did.” Cassie lowered her voice. “Hoss, he had to do terrible things, but Faith’s safe. I’m safe. He had to. Oh, he had to…you don’t know.”

  “Oh, baby. Whatever he had to do, I’m okay with it, and he’ll be okay, too. His dad, the whole club, we’ll make sure. Faith—” His voice broke and he stopped talking, quiet except for the noisy rushes of air as he fought for control.

  Cassie shook her head vehemently, denying his fears. She forced confidence into her voice as she told him, “She’s okay. Nothing happened, Hoss. Nothing bad. She’s got a bloody nose and a fat lip, and I think she dislocated her thumb.” The hand disappeared from her back and the big man stepped around her. “Hey,” she called, then heard Hoss in her ear.

  “Gunny’s checking on her injuries. He heard what you said. We all did. It’s okay, Cassie. I promise you it’s okay.”

  Faith pulled back from Garrett and nodded, holding her hand out to Gunny with a wince. Garrett’s hands didn’t leave her waist as he deftly turned her and then tugged her body backwards, settling her back to his front so he could watch what Gunny did over her shoulder. At a word from Gunny, Garrett lifted a hand to Faith’s jaw, and turned her head to press into his neck. Gunny gave her thumb a jerk and Faith cried out, Garrett’s voice soothing her gently.

  “See, he’s taking care of her.” Hoss’ words were soft. “They’ll bring you back to me, baby. Come home, come to me.”

  Cassie nodded. “Yes. Okay, yes. My bike—”

  “The boys will take care of that. They’ll bring Garrett’s bike back, too. Faith’s car is there. Gunny’ll drive you and the kids. Let the boys take care of everything else.” He paused, and his voice was rough when he continued. “Scared the fuck out of me, watching you walk into that place, baby. Come home to me.”

  Silence continued on the line for a moment while Cassie wrestled to get her emotions under control. “I can’t wait to see you.” She resolved to not bring up how they’d parted, but it seemed Hoss had different instincts.

  “You’re in my heart and soul, Cassie. Don’t matter what is said or what happens. Don’t matter how far away from you I am, in my heart I’m with you. I’m always with you, baby. Hold me there, keep me in your heart, and give me a chance to make it up to you. I wanna make my home with you, wherever you are. I want you. I wanna build my life in your heart, so you know you’re never alone. Never an afterthought. And I’ll never,”—his voice hardened, growing firm with steely resolve—“not ever take your choices away again. You’ve had enough of that for a lifetime, so I’ll do my best to learn how to be what you need. To learn you. Cassie, honey, I love you. Come home to me.”

  Eyes closed, she swallowed hard as she lifted a hand to cover her mouth, trying to keep her sobs silent, not wanting to let him know how his words had affected her. She tried twice before she trusted her voice with just his name, hoping it would carry everything she wanted to say. “Hoss.”

  “Baby, turn around. Myron, take it down, yeah?” A humming sound grew in volume, not something she’d even noticed before, but now it was impossible to ignore. She turned to see a tiny black drone hovering just off the porch. “I see you, Cassie. Don’t hide that shit from me. You give it to me and I’ll figure out how I deal with it when you do. You hear me?” She nodded, staring at the device that looked more like a child’s toy than what she knew it was. “Now, tell me you love me again. I wanna see that pretty face as you do.”

  She stared at the drone, noises around her falling away, the men walking in and out of the house not mattering, even the murmuring of Faith and Garrett shifting to the background until all she heard was her own heart, beating fast in her chest, the echoing susurration of blood flowing through her body. Meditation had taught her many methods to focus her thoughts, and she used every one of them to ensure she gave Hoss what he needed from her in this moment. She forced aside the fear, isolating the terror that remained by being surrounded by so many men who looked exactly like their captors and locking it away. It might come back out to tweak her nerves later, but she wanted Hoss to see her strong and clear-headed, ready for whatever life could throw at her. At them.

  “Isaiah Rogers, Hoss, I love you.” Quiet but confident, she told him the truth. “I’ll always love you.”

  “Then come home to me, baby. I’m here waiting.” He paused, and she heard him fight his own terror into submission, showing her the depth of inner strength he’d developed through the years, probably had been born with, brought out now when she needed to know she wasn’t alone in this. Would never be alone. “I’ll always be here.”

  ***

  Garrett

  Standing in the hallway outside Faynez’ room, Garrett allowed himself to slump back against the wall in exhaustion. Clothed in a borrowed shirt from Hoss that was surprisingly snug around the shoulders, he hung his head, then laced his fingers behind his neck, covering his face with the angles created by his bent elbows. Trying to hide from the doubts that were coming at him from every side.

  Things could have gone so bad.

  He remembered his father’s wisdom, still marveling at how those words had carried him through to the end. His sole focus had been on getting to Faynez, saving her, not letting her suffer what his mother had gone through.

  Oh, yeah, he knew his parents hadn’t ever intended him to learn how he’d been conceived, what had caused the pregnancy, but he could do the math. He’d been twelve the first time the dates lined up in his head, courtesy of a conversation with his older cousin Jonny. The club threw a bash on the same day every year, the day his mother and aunt had been rescued from their kidnapper. His older brother Chase always made himself scarce from the party, because it also marked the day his mother died. So much pain and celebration tied up in one day, he didn’t have the words to explain how conflicted it all made him feel. But then, nine months later, there would be a much smaller party for his birthday. Don’t have to be a rocket scientist. Not as much to celebrate there.

  The dreams his mom still had gave it away, too. Garrett couldn’t count the number of times he’d woken to her shouting, calling for rescue, for help, crying out for someone to stop hurting her, to not hurt her friends. For days afterward, his father’s face would carry a dark burden of knowledge and pain, different from Garrett’s because he blamed himself somehow, and Garrett had never figured that part out. I couldn’t let Faynez deal with that for the rest of her life. Even the bits she’d shared with him on the porch of that hell house, and in the back seat of the car in between moments she’d dozed while Gunny drove them home, she had been remembering the feelings of terror so strongly he could see her heartbeat pounding in her throat. He’d soothed her, calmed her each time, whispering promises to always be there, and he’d breathed a heavy sigh of relief when she’d taken those as truth, leaning into him. Faynez might not love him, not yet, but she trusted him, and he held onto that with both hands, hoping he could be enough. So Garrett had pushed through, forcing his own memories of the day down and taking on her fears one at a time, dismantling them and talking her through it all until she could look at him through her tears and promise him she’d be okay.

  Cassie was one tough lady. Garrett had heard around the clubhouse how flighty she could be, men w
ondering if she were a good match for Hoss. If she was Hoss’ pick, they’d back him a hundred percent, of course, but it didn’t stop the tongues from wagging about what they saw as her incompatibility. What Garrett had seen today, though? Tough and strong, and more than suitable for the man. Right now, she was sacked out on the couch, wanting people around her when she woke, not cowering in a corner.

  The look on Cassie’s face when she’d seen him would forever haunt Garrett. She’d saved his life, whether she believed him or not, because that man, the Mexican, had gotten the drop on him somehow. Garrett had been just a hair too slow, the door rebounding quickly and slamming into him, throwing off his aim. If she hadn’t tased him when she did, the man would have shot and killed Garrett.

  He’d told his dad that, told Hoss, too. A look passed between them that he couldn’t interpret, but his dad’s expression hadn’t changed like he’d expected. Instead of disgust or disappointment, what he’d seen was pain mixed with equal parts pride, and that had stunned him. He knew his dad loved him, but was proud of him? Me?

  “Son?” Garrett startled and reacted instinctively, fists raised in front of him in a flash as he turned to face the man standing in the hallway. “Garrett, what are you doing out here?”

  “Hoss.” Embarrassed, he dropped his hands and shook them out, the sudden burst of fear and adrenaline still pumping through his veins. He huffed out a painful laugh. “I’m just. I can’t leave. She might…” He trailed off and was silent for a handful of breaths as he stared into the face of a man he’d known his whole life. “I can’t leave, Hoss. I’m sorry.”

  “You’re thinking she might dream.” Unable to speak, Garrett pressed his lips together tightly and nodded in jerky movements. “That she might need someone to help her.” Waiting for the laughter at his presumption, Garrett nodded. “You care about my girl, boy?”

  That was a question he’d never be afraid to answer. “Yes, sir.” He lifted his chin and straightened as tall as he could. “I do.”

  “It’s a life-altering thing, what you did today.” Garrett stared at him as Hoss scratched at his jaw with rough fingers. “You took two lives to protect someone you care about. That changes a man.”

  Hoss paused and seemed to expect some response, so Garrett tipped his head to one side and nodded. “Yes, sir. I expect it will.”

  “You know you’re gonna catch it from your old man eventually. He’s gonna get beyond his relief you’re alive and focus more on the how it got to that point. Because you should have told us what you found. You shouldn’t have taken off like you did, tackled something like this alone, and he’s gonna beat your everlovin’ ass in the very near future.” Hoss stared at him a moment, expression fierce, and then his mouth curled up on one side and he chuckled, the sound harsh in the silence of the hallway. “And I can see from your face, you don’t give that first shit, do you?” Garrett shook his head, because Hoss had it right. Voice rough, Hoss told him, “My girl is safe in her bed tonight because of you.” He pointed at the doorway that was just behind Garrett. “She’s in there, sleeping and breathing, because you did what you did. Took it on and didn’t think twice, just saw what was needed and you took charge, moving through the options until you found one that gave you the outcome you wanted most. Faynez alive and well.”

  “It was needful.” Hoss nodded at Garrett’s words, that half smile still curling his lips. Uncomfortable, he deflected what Hoss had implied. “Anyone woulda done it.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong. Not anyone. A lot of the Rebels, yeah, because we’re a tight-knit crew and always have each other’s backs. But not anyone. You just gotta watch the news on any given night to see the truth. Most people would live-stream it before they would have stepped in and did a fuckin’ thing.” Hoss shook his head as he scoffed and dipped his chin to his throat, that grin growing wider on his face. “‘Needful.’ Fuck. You are your old man all over again. Cast from the same mold, Garrett.” He gestured towards the front of the house where Mason and most of the men from today were still talking, trying to sort out the politics of what had happened.

  All Garrett cared about was the one outcome, which was staying close enough to Faynez that if he focused, he could hear her breathing.

  “Hey,” Hoss’ voice was lighter, brighter in some way, and Garrett knew the time for talking about hard things was passing. He’d be glad to see the last of it. “What’s that paint job you had Bear do on your bike? What’s it say again?”

  “Beast.” He quirked his lips to the side. “That bike can pull itself out of any bad decision I make. It’s definitely a beast.”

  “Yeah, it is.” Hoss took a step closer and reached up to cup his palm around the back of Garrett’s neck. He pulled him close, until their foreheads rested together. His voice fell to a harsh whisper, aching and a kind of grief slashing through his words. “You saved my girl, and my woman. You’ve earned a marker from me for life. Anything you need, you ask. I’ll break my bones to get it for you. Whatever you need.” His fingers clamped tighter and Garrett tasted salt, his throat closing shut at the ache in Hoss’ voice. “Anything, Beast.”

  The last word was confusing, even more so when he heard his father’s voice from right behind Hoss. “Fitting, brother. Downright fitting.” Garrett pulled away from Hoss’ grip and angled his head so he could see his dad. “Beast, you wanna patch in? You still want that Rebel prospect patch? You gotta be damn sure, because ain’t a single one of the men gonna go easy on you. Gonna be tough as fuck. But you want it? If you do, you’ve earned that goddamned spot. Earned the chance a thousand times over today. Not sayin’ it’s a done deal, but I know a dozen men who’d be proud to sponsor you after today.”

  Waiting for the catch, Garrett stared at him for a long moment, then nodded slowly. “Yes, sir. I do.”

  “Done.” Hoss said before he leaned closer and reached past Garrett. He heard a metallic rattle, and when he looked, the door to Faynez’ darkened room was cracked open. “Now go on in there and be with her a while, make sure she has sweet dreams. Ease your own mind.” His face tensed, and he growled the next words. “Not a single bit of funny business, you hear me? She’s still a child. She’s my baby girl, and you’ll treat her with respect, or I’ll have your balls in my hand before you can flinch.”

  “I’ll wait.” Beast promised Hoss what he needed to hear, told him the truth. “I know she’s young. So am I. But you need to know I’ll wait forever for her, if that’s what it takes. I love her, Hoss.”

  “I believe you do, son.” Some of the tension eased out of Hoss’ features. “Rest. You did well today. And welcome, brother.”

  Beast turned, not needing more encouragement to move into Faynez’ room. Once inside, he toed off his boots and then slowly crawled onto her mattress, careful to keep a safe distance between them. This was comfortable, known, because they’d slept like this many times, innocently keeping the other company through the night. Before the door closed, before he shut his eyes, he stared at her and did his level best to commit her beauty to memory. Then with a sigh, he relaxed, and faster than he expected, he slept, unaware when her hand found his in the night and clasped tightly, holding on.

  Something to watch

  Mason

  He watched as Hoss drew the blonde to his side, cradling her there as if she were precious. This woman, Cassie, had captured the Rebels’ resident artist sure as anything. Hoss had shown him images of sketches he’d done of the woman and while those had been breathtaking, they didn’t do anything to truly convey how beautiful she was. Or how right they look together, he thought, lifting his beer to take a long pull from the bottle.

  It had been two weeks of long days and nights since the events in a farmhouse in an isolated Ohio field. Long days of conversation between RWMC and Machos, then Malcontents, and then finally the Jailbreakers, a Florida club he’d long ago tasked with watching over his sister there, Justine. It had taken hours and hours to get to the bottom of what happened, and even now there was
no real resolution.

  In between Garrett heading into that damned clubhouse, and when the Rebels finally rolled home, two men had somehow slipped the noose. Bedlam still hadn’t turned up, and without being able to put a pin in that detail, every Rebel member remained on high alert. Gunny and Brute spoke to the newer members who hadn’t been through a war before, isolating the men who might not stick and latching onto them, promising to mentor as needed so the RWMC could keep their strength.

  Bedlam was a terror all on his own, but somehow Enzo had also skated free, and Myron was still peeling back the layers associated with that particular fuck-up. Hoss and Deke both said it felt like the time years ago when a prisoner had been let loose by a traitor, who’d then tried to drum up discontent by pointing the finger at a brother, all while sitting back and laughing through his beard at the club’s efforts to sort things out. While Enzo was being transported back to the RWMC Columbus clubhouse, the van had stopped at an unneeded gas stop, and the man had simply strolled away. Security footage showed him disappearing into the darkness behind the building, and then moments later, a truck drove away.

  After Hoss’ old lady had tased him, Garrett had knocked him fully unconscious with the butt-end of Mason’s pistol before he tied him with the rope that had been used on Hoss’ little girl. Enzo had been hurting from all that, but still walked.

  Movement across the room made him look up and Mason smiled as Garrett strolled through the crowd, hand-in-hand with Faith. Those two had been inseparable for days, the weight of their experiences bowing them at times. Hoss said even now she still slept with the door open and a light on. Faith was seeing the same counselor Hoss’ boy had talked to when he’d been traumatized, so there was optimism. Seeing how she looked up at Garrett with stars in her eyes, Mason suspected she’d settle out quicker than the talkin’ doc predicted. My Gar-boy would chew his arm off if he thought it’d make life better for her. The Rebel family had all watched as Garrett nursed a crush through the past few years, Mason and Hoss on the fence whether to encourage it or not. We’re out of it now, he thought, grinning and tipped his beer up for a long swallow. Kids have to make their own way through this part of everything.