In Search of Solace (Rebel Wayfarers MC)

by MariaLisa deMora

  In Search

  of Solace

  A Rebel Wayfarers MC &

  Freed Riders MC Crossover Story

  MariaLisa deMora

  Edited by Hot Tree Editing

  Proofreading by Whiskey Jack Editing

  Photography & model: Stuart Reardon

  Copyright © 2020 MariaLisa deMora

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination, or are used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is entirely coincidental.

  First Published 2020

  ISBN 13: 978-1-946738-63-9

  DEDICATION

  Life is tough, my darling, but so are you.

  ~ Stephanie Bennett-Henry

  For the fighters among us who keep climbing to their feet, head hung low, and still find the strength to carry on.

  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  No, Gunny does not always get his way.

  I know it might seem like it, because when that man talks you know I listen. But he doesn’t get everything his little heart desires. For instance, you’ll note this story is not titled: Fraudy Fraudy Froggy Frog. Take that, Lane.

  In all seriousness, there are a few characters that I know to listen to. Know to tease out that little murmur, give them space to allow it to build, and then—once they’re truly ready to talk—seize the moment like there’s no tomorrow. Gunny’s one of those. Every story he’s brought to the table made me laugh and cry, and in the case of this book, gag a little. Swear, it’s all his fault. I might complain about the guy, but when he starts talking in my head I pay attention.

  And look, now he’s brought us Myrt and Bane, a couple I’ve enjoyed a great deal. Oh, also, you’re going to see a lot of old favorites within these pages, and yes, the whole story is basically a teaser for a potential new series, but in my heart Blackie has always deserved his own book. So future stories to watch for, yeah?

  As ever, it takes a tribe to bring a story from tiny whispers along the edges of my consciousness to what you hold in your hands—whether in paperback or electronic. From the alpha readers of Megan and Kori, to the editorial team at Hot Tree Editing, where Becky and her crew always do my stories justice. And to Mel with Whiskey Jack Editing, a proofreader who doesn’t fear to push me in all the ways that will make the story better. Thanks to all of them. From the bottom of. Thanks also to Stuart Reardon, photographer and model, for giving Bane the perfect cover.

  Much gratitude to the readers. Those one-click addicts, the loyal followers, my fans-to-friends on social media, ravenous consumers of the written word who prove to me with each book that the stories are worthy.

  Alla y’all make me happies.

  Woofully yours,

  ~ML

  In Search of Solace

  Pain and anguish dominated Myrtle's life. Forced to take things into her own hands, she disappeared into the Kentucky mountains, shrouded in darkness with only the little she could squeeze inside a bag. Days—and hundreds of miles—later, in a different kind of tough spot, Myrt finds herself rescued by a woman who seems too good to be true. Ignoring Myrt’s bruising and desperation, Vanna offers both a place to stay and a hand up.

  Slowly settling into her new, charmed life, Myrt is rocked when a van rolls to a stop in the front drive and out steps a stranger. Dark and rough on the outside, he still makes Myrt feel safer than she’s been in years. Could she offer her trust to such a man? Her heart?

  Bane, taking on increased responsibilities with the Freed Riders MC out of Northeast Texas, rides to the rescue for the family of an officer with a friendly club. Delivering them safely to Baker, Florida—a dead-ass town in a no man’s land strip of the Gulf coast—is no trouble at all. Until his relaxing ride runs smack into the most perfect woman he’s ever seen. Now he hungers to wrap Myrt up safe in his arms.

  Myrt, a woman under the protection of that same friendly club that was the reason he was in the area in the first place.

  Well, this is gonna be fun.

  Prologue

  Myrtle

  Stepping out of the stranger’s car, Myrt Sallabrook stared around the empty parking lot and campground. The sighing of the waves sounded through the scraggly trees, and the desire to see their incessant lapping against the shore ran wild in her veins. She waved goodbye to the elderly man, who drove off still shaking his head. As she’d shut the door, he’d claimed once again it didn’t sit right with him, leaving such a young girl here alone.

  If he’d only known how her life had been for so long, he’d understand being alone wasn’t the worst thing that could happen to a body.

  Hitching her unwieldy bag higher on her shoulder, she strode to the welcoming sunshine, ready to experience something new. Later, she’d find somewhere to lay her head, somewhere underneath the trees. Once set up like she imagined, the shelter would be hidden, and it would take someone looking intently to spot her.

  Exactly what she wanted.

  Chapter One

  Vanna

  “Honey, I’m home.”

  Truck’s greeting never failed to bring a smile to Vanna’s face, and tonight was no different. He’d been away for a few days, visiting mutual friends in Texas. While they’d spoken on the phone frequently, hearing him through the crackling ether was no replacement for having his rich tone and reverberating sense of love wrap itself around her skin.

  “In the kitchen,” she called back, raising her voice. She reached across the table to place her hand over the trembling one of the girl who sat opposite her. Speaking softly, she told the girl, “That’s my Truck, my husband, and exactly like I promised you, you’re safe with us, honey.” Lifting her voice again, Vanna gave him a couple seconds’ warning. “We’ve a visitor.”

  He rounded the corner and came through the archway leading to the kitchen, glanced at the girl, then arrowed straight towards where Vanna sat. A moment later, she was off the chair and in his arms, his mouth on hers in a slow exploration that had her breaths coming choppy and quick, fingers tingling as she ran her hands through his hair and cupped the back of his neck, holding him to her.

  “My God, woman. I missed you.” The soft scratch of his beard across her cheek was familiar, as was the strength in the arms that held her close. He brushed a kiss along her jaw, the tender gesture followed by a gentle nip at her earlobe. “Glad to be home.” Truck settled her in alongside him, one arm curved around her back as they turned to face the table where the girl sat. “Hey,” he said gruffly, and Vanna felt his tension zing through her, transferring as if by magic from where his hand gripped her hip. “The fuck?” The breathed expletive told her he’d taken in the girl, every bruised inch of her.

  Earlier this morning, Vanna had been headed towards a loop trail she enjoyed hiking, singing along to the oldies on the radio as she drove. Pulling into the trailhead parking lot, she’d noted a crude shelter built just beyond the edge of the surrounding woods. More a tarp than a tent, it was secured
in an amateurish fashion, with what looked like strips of cloth tying it to low-hanging tree limbs. It would do nothing to block wind or rain; a stiff breeze would likely loft it and tear the tarp loose from its moorings.

  On the bare ground underneath had been a figure, and with the lack of a cook or fire ring nearby, Vanna wondered if it was a city homeless person, thinking to escape the rat race for a time. The only problem with that idea was homeless were typically dependent on the kindness of others for assistance, needing folks around to survive. Out here, they were alone. With Vanna’s the only car in the lot, she’d known from experience—barring a surprise visit from an out-of-towner—it would stay that way.

  So she’d approached carefully, because she was a woman alone, but with kindness in her tone, hoping to keep from frightening whoever was bundled up in the pile of fabric visible under the tarp.

  “Hello? Hey, there. I’m only here to hike, but I thought I’d check on you and make sure you’re doing okay. You got everything you need?” Vanna stopped about ten yards from the makeshift tent. Her car was unlocked only a few strides behind her. Between that proximity, the fact the figure was on the ground, and the small cannister of mace on the keyring still in her hand, she thought she’d be able to argue with Truck she was being safe. Not that he’d need to know about this little encounter. She grinned, knowing the thought was a lie. She reveled in sharing her adventures with her husband, and if she was honest with herself, it was always kind of fun to wallow in the knowledge he loved her so much he’d promise to do over-the-top things to keep her safe. That man. “Are you awake?”

  The figure stirred, and Vanna quieted, waiting. Pale, delicate fingers appeared and curled around the articles of clothing covering their face, tugged them down, and Vanna found herself staring into the elfin features of a girl who couldn’t be more than seventeen or eighteen. Deep purple bruising circled both eyes, the raccoon effect typically the product of a terrible blow to the head. Green and yellow dotted her throat, mapping where a hand had brutally gripped. She blinked, and Vanna noted the red streaks in the sclera of her eyes, more evidence of trauma.

  “I’m not gonna cause any trouble.” The girl’s bottom lip was split and swollen, but her words were understandable. Her voice trembled as she restated, “I don’t want to cause trouble.”

  “You’re not, honey. It’s okay. Needed a safe place to catch a nap. I get it.” Vanna hunkered down where she stood on the gravel of the parking lot, putting one knee to the ground. Making herself smaller would lessen the girl’s fear, something she knew from having a hand in far too many rescues. Ones that felt just like this one—desperately needed. “Are you hungry? Have you eaten recently?”

  “Uh, a couple of days ago.” The girl angled into an awkward sitting position, one hip cocked up as if it hurt to touch the ground. She was close to the tree but not leaning against it, supporting her weight on an arm propped behind her. Both of those things spoke volumes to Vanna. “I’m okay, ma’am. Thank you.”

  “A couple of days ago isn’t okay, honey. I’ve got some provisions in the car. Would you be all right with it if I got you a few things?” She took in more of the girl’s condition. Her lips were dry, the skin on her fingers pinched and wrinkled. Dehydrated, too. “I’ve got a couple of bottles of water you might be interested in, too.”

  “I’m…” The girl bowed her head, breaking eye contact as she focused on the ground between them. “I’m awful thirsty.”

  “I’ll get you fixed right up.” Vanna stepped backwards as she stood, creating distance as she rose to what could be interpreted as a more threatening posture. She dropped her daypack to the ground, making a marker for how close she’d originally approached. “Give me half a minute. You here alone, honey?”

  “Yes, ma’am. It’s just me.”

  Vanna’s gaze swept the lot as she made her way to the back of the little SUV she drove. Her tire tracks were the only ones in the dirt of the entryway. It had rained about a week ago. That meant either the girl had been dropped off before then or she’d walked in. This particular trailhead adjoining a tiny sliver of national parkland wasn’t adjacent to any main roads. It was a long trek from anywhere with a population, one of the draws of the location for Vanna.

  She spoke loudly enough for the girl to hear, aiming at reassuring her. “And it’s only me. So now it’s just the two of us.” Hatch lifted, she rummaged around in the two crates of food items she kept in the car. She ignored the hiker-food goods for now and focused on what could be termed comfort food. Toaster pastries and water bottles, beef and turkey jerky, and a package of gum. Shoving the haul of goodies into a small bag, she grabbed another bottle of water and a protein bar for herself, picked up a folded blanket from the other pile of supplies, and walked back towards the girl, clicking the car fob to close the hatch. A couple of strides from where she’d left the daypack, she asked, “Is it okay if I sit with you for a while? The sun sure is hot.” It wasn’t, but she wanted to give the girl the right of refusal. Vanna bent slightly and grabbed one strap of her pack. “I bet it’s cooler up under those trees.”

  “Yes, ma’am. Feel free to sit anywhere you want.”

  The girl had attempted to straighten her sleeping pile while Vanna was by the car, sweatshirts and pants folded and set aside. It had exposed her legs, which were mottled with faint bruising, evidence of an earlier beating. Whoever had put their hands on this girl had done it repeatedly, systematically, and with a definite intent to inflict harm.

  Pulling a sampling of the selections from the bag, she held them out in offering. The girl eyed the items in Vanna’s hands. “Thank you for everything.” She accepted each of the foodstuffs tentatively, as if Vanna might snatch them back at any moment, resting them carefully in her lap as she reached for the next. “You’re too kind. This is too much.”

  “Oh, honey, I’ve got more where that came from. I always carry extra with me. Never know when I might get hungry or meet someone in need.” Vanna retreated a few feet away, placed her blanket and the pack at the base of a tree, settled on the cushioning surface, and then leaned back against the trunk. She opened her water and took a long drink, finishing with a satisfied “Ahhhh.”

  The girl followed suit, sipping more cautiously, wincing as the plastic opening pressed against her swollen lip. “This is real good. Thank you.” She plucked at the seam on the foil packet of the toaster pastries, opened it, and reached inside to break off a piece. The first bite was quickly followed by another and another, until the pouch was empty. “I—” The girl laughed. “My lands. I didn’t realize I was that hungry.”

  “Going without’ll do that to ya.” Vanna opened her protein bar and nibbled off one corner. “That jerky is good. The turkey is my favorite. Not too spicy.” She leaned her head back and stared up through the pine needles of the limbs overhead, seeing swatches of blue sky mixed with high, white clouds. “Lemme know if you need help opening it.” One of the girl’s fingers had swollen into a barely bendable lump, either with a dislocated knuckle or broken. “Weatherman is calling for rain tonight. You set up for that?”

  “Rain?” The tension in the girl’s voice had Vanna looking back towards her. She was peering at the sky over the parking lot, the storm approaching from the west not yet visible. “With lightning?”

  “What they said.” Vanna took another bite. “Want me to open the jerky for you?” The girl nodded, and Vanna stood, ducking as she walked out from under the tree. She got closer, and the girl handed the package back. “I’m Vanna.” She gave a nod as she unzipped the top of the plastic and then wrestled the seam of the package open. “Here you go. I’ve got more water, too.” She handed another bottle of water to the girl, along with the seasoned meat. “You worried about the storm?”

  Making her way back to the folded blanket, she resumed her position against the trunk of the tree. The girl finished the bite of jerky she’d stuffed into her mouth before responding, swallowing hard around the dried turkey.

  “M
aybe? I sure don’t like ’em.” She lifted another bite to her mouth, then let her hand fall away. “You think it’ll get bad? It’s not tropical, is it?”

  “No, just a storm front. Probably wind, lightning, thunder, and rain. It’s the wrong time of year for tornados.” Reaching into the pocket of her khakis, Vanna pulled out her phone and unlocked it, smiling at the text waiting for her.

  Headed home to my baby.

  Vanna fired off a quick response to Truck, letting him know she’d received his message, then opened the weather app she used.

  “Looks like it’s strengthened. It’s hours away yet, though, so plenty of time to get you somewhere safe.” She glanced at the girl, who was chewing slowly, staring off into the distance. “You got people around? I can give you a lift pretty much anywhere, honey.”

  “No, ma’am. I got nobody here.” She restlessly reached out and touched the piles of fabric she’d folded and stacked to the side, as if in reassurance they were still where she’d left them.

  A tiny thing she could control. This wasn’t Vanna’s first rodeo in the human rescue department, and experience gave her insight into the girl’s behaviors. Persistently calling Vanna ma’am, the sincere gratitude for the smallest of things, fear of accusation of misbehavior—everything screamed controlling and abusive relationship. Now to find out if it had been the girl’s family, or a boyfriend, or if she’d escaped something else.

  “Like I said, my name is Vanna.” The girl cut her eyes to the side but was clearly listening. “Vanna Reicht. I live a few miles from here, and I happen to have an empty bedroom now since my son’s moved off on his own.” And protective as all get out of his independence, too. The last time she’d shown up at Kitt’s apartment unannounced he’d spent the hour texting responses to her questions, illustrating how unnecessary the visit was. In his mind at least. Hugged her hard when she’d left though. Boys. She smiled at the memory. “He’s in the city up in Georgia, so the room sits empty. It would be a safe haven for you tonight, if you wanted.” The girl was already shaking her head in negation of the offer, and Vanna held up her palms to stave off the verbal response. “My husband is headed home now, and if I know that man, he’ll roll in midnight or later. It’d be a blessing to me if I wasn’t tottering around the house alone until then. You’d be doing me a favor, if we look at it like that. I’m not a fan of storms.”