Renegade (Moonshine Task Force Book 1)

by Laramie Briscoe

  She stops for a minute and levels me with a stare. It’s equal parts dis-believing and what looks like happiness. It scares me.

  “So were the tests true then? Was it him who had the problem and not me?” I put on a brave face, but inside, I’m coming apart.

  She comes over and grabs my hand, and that’s when I know it. Something is majorly wrong, I’m probably dying. Or maybe she’s going to tell me exactly what I want to hear.

  “Congratulations, Whitney! You’re pregnant.”

  The world tilts as I pass out against the examination table.

  Renegade

  Betty is pushing papers at myself and Trevor. “I need you to sign this so we can send it to the worker’s comp company since this was a work injury,” she’s telling Trevor who looks at her like she’s grown another head.

  “With what hand? Fucker got my dominant one,” he gestures at the thick padding and ace bandage that now covers the ten stitches in his skin.

  “Here,” I laugh. “Let me sign your name, sweetheart.”

  “Thanks, baby,” he winks, puckering his lips to give me an air kiss and causing her to laugh at us.

  “You two are too much. Here,” she hands us a packet. “You’ll need to give this to Holden, because it is worker’s comp, and here’s your next appointment to get the stitches out,” she hands Trevor an appointment card.

  “Thanks,” he tells her. “If I have trouble, should I call here or go to the ER?” Doc Miller told us that there was a high risk of infection considering where the he’d been sliced, as well as the condition of the blade.

  She looks down. “Notes say go straight to the ER.”

  “Great,” he says, quirking a brow. “Let’s hope that doesn’t happen.”

  I start to say something, but the door beside us opens and someone else comes out of the examination rooms. We’re holding up progress, so I quickly sign Trevor’s name and grab the paperwork we need. I’m trying not to listen in on what’s going on behind us, but we’re so close that I can’t help it.

  “Here’s your first round of prenatals. Let’s see how you handle these, and then we’ll get more. Stop by Betty and make your first follow-up. At your age, we’ll have to monitor you closely.”

  Curiosity gets the better of me, and both Trevor and I turn around at the same time, our eyes meeting Whitney’s.

  “You’re pregnant?” we both ask at the same time.

  Her face is a mask of panic, and once more, she looks like she wants to escape.

  I’ll be damned.

  Whitney

  “Seems like it,” I do my best to smile at both my brother and the father of my unborn child. God I never thought I’d say those words. For so many years I had hoped that I would, but with Stephen nothing ever happened and it had always been my fault. For five seconds, I have the urge to call him, tell him that some other man got the job done, and then hang up.

  But the sensible side to my brain tells me that he’ll find some way to make it a mistake. He’ll find a way for me to doubt myself, my words, and my life, and I’ve worked too hard to put all that behind me, to put him behind me. Glancing into Ryan’s clear, brown eyes, I can see that he has questions, but I can’t go into it right here, right now. Not with Trevor looking at me like he can see into my soul.

  “I didn’t even know that you were seeing anyone,” Trevor pins me with his gaze.

  I might be ten years older than him, but he has always seen himself as my protector, and damn whoever gets in the way. From the time he was old enough to put up his fists and fight, he’s been my fiercest ally. “It’s new and completely unexpected.” That’s not a lie at all.

  “How are you feeling?” he asks. “You look a little pale.”

  I laugh almost in a crazy way. It’s the only thing keeping me from crying, and right now I’m not sure if they’re tears of happiness or tears of oh-my-God-what-am-I-doing? “I passed out when she told me. I couldn’t believe it.”

  Trevor gestures to his hand. “We gotta get back, but I’m calling you later on and we’re having a talk.”

  For the first time, I notice that it’s wrapped in thick gauze and he’s holding it gingerly. “Oh my gosh, what happened to you?”

  “We were serving a summons and a seventy-year-old man took offense to us dismantling his still,” Trevor shook his head. “Still can’t believe he had a knife.”

  He reaches in and hugs me. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

  I realize now more than ever how dangerous what they do is, and one of them is now the father of my unborn child. It’s enough to cause tears to spring to my eyes. Damn these hormones to hell.

  “Don’t cry,” he pulls me in for another hug, wrapping his good hand around my neck. “I’m good, Whit.”

  I valiantly try to still the trembling of my chin. “I know, just emotional,” I clear my throat and try to get myself together.

  “I gotta go,” he tells me. “Love you.”

  “Love you, too. Be very careful. You have a niece or nephew to worry about now,” I shakily smile at him.

  He and Ryan go to leave the office, but Ryan grabs my hand.

  “Congratulations, Whit,” he says loud enough for everyone to hear, but then he lowers his voice. “I’ll be by your house after I square up things with Trevor. We need to talk.”

  I nod, because I know he’s right. I know he has questions but I don’t have any answers.

  Renegade

  “You’re quiet,” Trevor speaks twenty minutes after we get into the truck. I’ve said all of two words to him. I want to press the gas, go one hundred miles an hour, drop him off, and then get to Whitney’s. I have a million thoughts running through my head, but I am in no way ready to tell Trevor that I’m the father of his soon-to-be niece or nephew. I haven’t discussed it with Whitney, I don’t know how we’re going to play this, and above all, I’m in fucking shock.

  “Got a lot on my mind, man.”

  “Anything you want to talk about?” Trevor is the best friend I’ve ever had, and it doesn’t feel good not being completely honest with him. It really fucking sucks.

  “Nothing I can talk about right now, but when I can, you’ll be the first to know.”

  God, I’m a dick. No matter what I do though, it’s going to piss off one of the Trumbolts, and I’d rather not do that now. I sigh in relief as I see headquarters over the hill. I can drop Trevor off, go to Whitney’s, and finally get some answers.

  It feels like an eternity as I answer the questions for Holden about what the doctor said so he’s in the loop about Trevor’s injury. Holden, thank God, is going to drive him home, leaving me free to do what I need to do. Since I’ve been on this team, I’ve never ran out so fast, ready to get to another facet of my life. This crew, this team, has been my life.

  A few traffic laws are broken as I make my way to Whitney’s house. I try to play the potential conversation in my brain, before I even get there, because I want to be prepared for what she might say to me. I want to make sure I sound like an adult, not her little brother’s best friend. I have a feeling, a very strong feeling, that this is going to take a lot of sweet-talking on my part. She’s not been shy about the fact that I’m younger than her.

  What should have taken me thirty minutes has taken me fifteen. I park my truck in her driveway and stop for a few moments, collecting myself, my thoughts, fuck my manhood, as I step down from the running board and go up her walkway. I feel like a man with a plan, nothing is going to derail or deter me.

  Until I knock, and knock, and knock on her front door and she doesn’t answer.

  “Whitney, your SUV is parked out front, I know you’re in there,” I tell her through the heavy thickness of wood that separates us.

  I knock a few more minutes, still she doesn’t answer. “Don’t think I can’t get in there, Whit,” I laugh. “You do realize that I did special ops, right?”

  When she doesn’t answer, I realize that she doesn’t know who she’s dealing with. “Fuck it,”
I mumble as I make my way to the back of the house. If I’m going to be breaking and entering, I don’t want to do it in full view of her neighbors.

  I’m amused as I open her unlocked gate and jog up her back porch. What she doesn’t realize is breaking the law and getting paid to do it is kinda my thing. “Game on, baby doll,” I whisper as I grab my tool kit out of my back pocket. Never leave home without it.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Whitney

  I’m sitting at my kitchen table with my latest client file in front of me, earbuds in, and Spotify on. When I’m stressed this is what I do best, bury myself in work and let the stress go. Now that the pregnancy has been confirmed, I have a surge of energy I haven’t had in weeks. It makes me want to get back to work. Whitney’s Weddings has become one of the most sought after wedding and event planning businesses in the Birmingham area. I serve all the small surrounding counties and have handled events all the way to Gulf Shores and Orange Beach, as well. My business is growing, it’s become enough that I’m making more money and living better than I was when I was married.

  Which makes me smile, because it was a big issue that Stephen held over my head for the longest time. I couldn’t take care of myself. There wouldn’t be money for vacations, or the manicures and pedicures I enjoy. How wrong he was – I’ve thrived without his negativity.

  I reach down to cup my non-existent bump and I make a promise to myself and this child. I will not fail us, I will do whatever it takes to make our lives work. For years I’ve lived my life for other people, but now I’m doing whatever it takes to make me happy. For so long I’ve made the fairy tale for other people, it’s time I make the fairy tale for myself – even if there isn’t a Prince Charming in the picture. A vision of Ryan flashes before me, but I shake my head. There’s no way in this world we could work out. Instead, I’m going to do what makes me happy.

  Which is planning weddings.

  I pick up the white piece of fabric the bride has chosen for her tablecloths and hold it against a rose gold place setting. The bride requested elegant and I love the way this looks together. Hoping that she does too, I lean down and make notes in the notebook I have specified for this wedding. Noticing that I’ve made another note to check a local vendor for customized necklaces, I pick up my phone and begin typing out a message to a friend who works there. One thing this business has given me is an extended network of women who are changing the world with a smartphone, Wi-Fi, and a little bit of imagination. It’s a great time to be a woman in business, and I’m proud to be one of them.

  It’s then I feel someone watching me. This is a feeling I know all too well. It’s one I grew accustomed to in my marriage. Swallowing against the lump that’s formed in my throat, I turn around, facing where I feel the gaze coming from. When I see Ryan, I scream and jump a mile in my chair.

  “Ryan, what the hell are you doing in here?” I ask, putting my hand to my heart, realizing it’s beating fast enough to give me a heart attack. “I thought we were meeting later on.”

  “Yeah,” he gives me a smile that I can only describe as smart ass. “I did too, but when you didn’t answer the door, I decided to let myself in,” he holds up a tool that I’ve seen Trevor use on occasion.

  Glancing down at my phone, I realize I got so involved in my work that I completely lost track of time, but it doesn’t excuse what he’s done. Letting a man run all over me isn’t something I’m going to allow to happen again. Too many years I’ve wasted, and I refuse to do it any longer. “You broke into my house? You broke the law you’re bound to uphold.”

  “Let myself in,” he corrects me. “I was worried you were avoiding me.”

  I can see where he’s coming from and at least he’s not feeding me a line about worrying for my safety. I’m sure Trevor’s told him that I’ve learned to take care of myself. One of the first things I did after getting divorced was take self-defense classes and got my concealed carry license. “I simply lost track of time,” I’m apologetic and I hope he realizes that it had nothing to do with him.

  “Mind if I have a seat?” he indicates the seat across from me at the table.

  I shake my head no. I’d rather our conversation be in my own space, where I have control over the situation. Control is something I’ve lacked so often in my life. Now I hang onto it with both hands and refuse to let it go. Quickly grabbing the materials off the table, I put them into the labeled box that I have for every client. “I’m sorry, when I work sometimes it’s to the detriment of everything else.”

  “Trevor told me your business is doing well,” he smiles softly at me as he has a seat.

  “It is,” I try not to notice how big he is sitting at my dining room table, how much room he takes up. If I let myself notice that, then I get too deep inside my head and I scare myself. Ryan is not here to hurt me. He had the perfect chance, and he didn’t take it. With my back to him, earbuds in, and completely engrossed in what I was doing, he could have done anything he wanted. Instead, he let me work and simply watched. While it creeps me out a little, I know above all I can trust him. He’s never given me a reason not to, and if I’m honest with myself – breaking in like that is something Trevor would have done. “I can, without a doubt, take care of myself and this baby.”

  There, I’ve thrown down the gauntlet, and my hands are shaking as I grip the edges of the table. Taking a stand isn’t easy when you’ve been verbally beaten down every other time you tried to do it. I’m proud as I hide the shaking of my hands and keep my bottom lip stiff.

  Renegade

  She’s skittish as a newborn colt, and I’m doing my best not to frighten her. The way she’s been reacting to me tells me her marriage must have been hell for her. It must have been a situation she hadn’t been able to escape, and I’m immediately pissed at Trevor. He should have gotten her out before it did this much damage. I’ve seen this all too often with domestic cases we’ve worked.

  “I have no doubt that you can take care of yourself and the baby,” I tell her, my voice soft and coaxing, doing my best not to spook her. This is out of character for me, I’m used to taking whatever I want, but there’s one thing I’ve learned in the professions I’ve had. You have to make people trust you; you can’t go in guns blazing and expect them to not see you as an overbearing asshole. “But I’m prepared to help.”

  “Ryan,” her voice is raspy and I watch as she adjusts herself in her seat, pushing her back up straighter and folding her hands in front of her. This is an ice queen pose if I’ve ever seen one. “You’re in the prime of your life, I don’t expect you to take on this responsibility.”

  “That’s too damn bad, because I happen to think this is the biggest responsibility in life that I have,” my voice is harder than I mean for it to be. I try to talk myself down, Whitney doesn’t know my past like Trevor does. She has absolutely no idea what this whole situation means to me, and I’m not about to lay my soul bare to her right now. The words she’s just spoken tells me that she sees me as nothing more than a boy, playing the role of a man. That’s fine. I can prove it to her, how serious I am. I’ve had to prove my worth to almost everyone in my life. I’m not scared to prove it to her.

  “I don’t want to force you into a situation that you don’t want to be in,” she tries again, this time giving me that bullshit tone that people use to placate you when they’ve pissed you off.

  I put my hand on top of hers, trying to ignore the electricity that sparks between us. It’s palpable and I have a feeling it could burn both of us if we aren’t careful. “Don’t tell me what you’re forcing me to do, what you think I’m prepared for, or what you think I can handle,” I soften my own voice. “I haven’t told you how to feel about this situation. Don’t tell me how to feel about it.”

  “I don’t want anything from you,” she tries again, face getting red with either embarrassment or frustration. Right now I’m unsure which it is.

  “Whitney,” I stop her. I can’t sit here and let her push me out of th
is child’s life. My child’s life. I can’t, not when it means the world to me to be a part of it. “I want everything from you.”

  I see tears come to her eyes, and I want to kick my own ass.

  “Ryan,” she brushes the edges of her eyes, cleaning up the mascara that’s slightly smudged. “That’s exactly what I’m afraid of.”

  “I don’t want to take it from you,” I try to explain. “I want to live it with you.”

  The look on her face tells me that may scare her even more, and damned if I know how to ease her discomfort, how to make this better, or even how to bridge the gap. Both of us are hanging on to a cliff, and neither one of us want to let go and make the jump.

  The set of our jaws match, and at this moment I think we both realize how strong the other is.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Renegade

  The next morning I’m raw after talking with Whitney. All night, I tossed and turned because nothing has been resolved, and I fucking hate it. I’m the type of guy that likes not to have anything up in the air. I have a plan for everything and I even account for most contingencies. It’s how I’ve lived my life since I turned eighteen and got out from under my parents’ roof, it’s why I excelled in the military, and it’s how I plan on living my life, including this pregnancy.

  Whitney thinks she just handed me a rude awakening.

  I have never in my life let someone push me out of anything the way I let her potentially push me out of my child’s life yesterday. It had a purpose, though. After talking with her for a few minutes, I realized I need to re-group – I need a new game plan. Obviously Whitney isn’t the type of woman who wants a man to take care of her any longer. She is strong, independent, and ready to take on the world without someone at her side. My thoughts are interrupted when my cell phone rings beside me, adrenaline immediately flowing as I see Holden’s name on the caller ID.

  “Renegade,” I answer, because above anything else, that’s who I am. It’s who I became when Ryan couldn’t deal with the hand life dealt him. In times of fear, chaos, deep sadness, and emotional turmoil, it became my shield against the world. It became my alter ego; the part of my personality that’s not scared of anything.