Renegade (Moonshine Task Force Book 1)

by Laramie Briscoe

  And I refuse to lose out on a chance at happiness. I’ve gone through enough loneliness and sadness in my life. Happy is where I want to be, and if this man walking back towards me now with a goofy smile on my face is my happy – I’m going to hold on with both hands and never let go.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Renegade

  “Fuck I feel like I’m about to serve a warrant,” I tell Whitney as I listen to the caller giving us our letters and numbers. “My heart is going to beat out of my chest, I’m so close to a damn bingo.”

  She laughs at my side. “It’s addicting, isn’t it?”

  “Like fucking heroin,” I agree as I hear the next spot we can mark. Damnit, it’s not the one I need.

  “This is seriously what got me into it,” she admits. “I won once and then I wanted to win again and again. So I just kept coming back. At one point, I could play like ten cards at once.”

  “No way,” I take my eyes off my own cards for a split second. “How?”

  “Obsession?” she shrugs. “You just learn to do it, and then you don’t want to stop. I’m not saying this is the best thing for someone with an addictive personality, but it’s fun for a while.”

  The caller calls out B-32 and holy shit. “Bingo! Bingo!” I yell to be heard above the loud room. Holding my hand up.

  “Yes!” Whitney squeals next to me. “You did it!”

  We wait as they come over and inspect my card. Like I’m going to lie about a damn bingo? Apparently it’s a thing, though.

  “You’re good,” the worker tells me. “Go ahead and go to the desk to get your money.”

  “Wait, I win money? I was excited about winning period.”

  Whitney laughs. “Yes! C’mon let’s go get it.”

  She drags me to the payout desk and when they tell me I’ve won a thousand bucks, my mouth hangs open. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

  “I told you I was able to finance some of my business with my bingo winnings,” she reminds me.

  I’m putting the cash in my wallet as I glance at her. “How much did you win exactly?”

  She runs her tongue over her lips. “Five figures.”

  “Damn, babe,” I turn back to the bingo floor. “Do you want to go back and try our hand some more?”

  “Nah, I think we did what we came here to do. We had a great time, you won some money, and I got to indulge my addiction.”

  We exit the building, and I hold the door open for the couple behind us. They’re older and the man is using a walker, his wife holding onto his elbow as she slowly walks beside him.

  “Thank you,” she smiles up at me.

  “No problem ma’am. Do y’all need help to your car?”

  “No,” he answers, shaking his head. “But thank you for asking young man. Our son’s coming to pick us up and should be here in a few minutes.”

  “There he is,” the lady points to a car. “Thank you for holding the door and the offer.”

  As we watch them get into the car, Whitney slips her hand in mine. “What would it be like to be with someone that long? To still love someone at that age so much you want to hang onto them?”

  “You’ve never thought of it?” I question as we slowly walk back to my truck.

  She’s quiet and I wonder if I’ve overstepped my boundaries. We don’t much talk about Stephen and that’s fine with me, but it’s not like I avoid it on purpose. I avoid it because I don’t think she wants to talk about him.

  “I did at one time. I mean you don’t go into a marriage thinking it’s not going to last forever, ya know? Especially with my parents and the family I come from. But the longer it went on, the more unhappy I got, I just couldn’t keep pretending.”

  “What about now,” I ask before I can stop myself. “Is it something you want now?”

  “With the right person,” she answers carefully. “If I had it for the right reasons and it was good timing, I would definitely get married again. I would gladly spend my life with someone else. Would I have said that a few months ago? No, but things change.”

  I wonder if she’s talking about me, I wonder if I’m one of the reasons her feelings on the subject have changed. Part of me wants to ask her, but the other part doesn’t want to hear it in case I’m not.

  We fall into an easy silence as we make our way back to the truck.

  “Can I be forward?” she turns to me after we’ve almost made it back to her house.

  “You can always tell me whatever it is you want to tell me. You don’t have to ever censor yourself for me. Just say what you want.”

  She struggles, I can tell by the way she opens her mouth, and then shuts it, three times before words come from her throat. “I don’t want this night to end. I’ve had a really good time with you. I feel like we’ve turned a corner here. Will you spend the night with me?”

  My heart almost stops as she asks me with uncertainty in her voice. I know with everything I am, she doesn’t understand what this means to me. There’s no fucking way she can feel the way my heart thuds in my chest as I look over at her, seeing glimpses of her as the street lights brighten the interior of my truck. This feels like an invitation to take things with us a little more serious, a step further. I won’t push her, but I do want to tell her parents and Tank about this baby before it’s born. I’ve wondered a few times if she’d just like to show up one day holding a bundle of baby and then let people ask her where it came from.

  “You don’t have to ask me like that, Whit. I’ll stay whenever you want me to. Hell, if it were up to me, I’d move in.”

  “I don’t know if I’m ready for that,” she says hesitantly, biting her nail.

  “I know, but I’m just telling you I’m willing to stay. You want me there? I’ll be there, any and every time you need me.”

  Whitney

  My hands shake as I brush my teeth and hair, getting ready for bed. I’m not sure what it is about tonight that’s different from all the other times Ryan and I have hung out. Maybe it’s the way he wasn’t afraid to touch me in public, he wasn’t scared to be with an older woman. Not once did he make me feel like I was second best. He treated me like I was number one to him and as if I were his main concern tonight. I haven’t had that kind of attention in a long time, and I have to admit it was nice.

  Him opening the door, being polite to the older couple, buying my stuff, touching me every time he could – if it were from anyone else, I’d think they were playing a game. But I know every time I look into Ryan’s eyes, there’s nothing there but honesty. I’ve tried to ignore it, tried to explain it away and told myself I’m ten kinds of an idiot for seeking him out. Truth of the matter is, I can’t help it. The more we’re together, the longer he stays in this with me, the more I’m going to count on him. Summer is beating down on us and before we know it, it’ll be Christmas. When our baby is due.

  I don’t want to go through this alone, never did, and for the first time I’m feeling like Ryan is right where he wants to be. I put aside all my own pre-conceived notions tonight and truly paid attention to how he acted around me, how he treated me, and what he was saying. I stopped thinking ahead and stopped doing my own interpretation of everything. Instead I let my instincts do the talking, and they said this guy is the real deal. I’d be stupid not to take this and see where it may go.

  For fifteen minutes I debated on if I wanted to dress sexy or wear my normal t-shirt to bed. In the end, I had to go with the t-shirt. I’m tired, and tonight won’t be a night where we’re burning up the sheets – I just don’t have it in me.

  Opening the door, I shut off the bathroom light and walk out into the bedroom. Ryan’s already lying down, checking his phone in the light cast by the lamp on my nightstand.

  “You look ridiculous in my Tiffany-Blue Damask comforter,” I smile as I walk over to my side and pull back the sheets.

  “Never let it be said I haven’t done emasculating things for you, Whit. This is probably at the top of them so far. I feel like I need to ha
nd Tank my nuts next time I see him.”

  “No need for that,” I curl up next to him without even thinking about it. “I kinda like them and want you to keep them for a little while longer,” I snuggle into the indention of his arm and throw my leg over his. “I hope you don’t mind, but I’m a cuddler.”

  “Please, cuddle me if it makes you feel good,” his breath is warm against my forehead.

  I only wish I could tell him how good it really does make me feel. Cherished actually, but I keep that to myself.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Renegade

  “What’s wrong?” I ask when I feel her turn over for maybe the hundredth time tonight. I’d thought being invited into her bed and sleeping here tonight would be a smooth ride, but she’s probably traveled three miles in her quest for sleep.

  “Can’t sleep,” she huffs, disentangling herself from me and pushing her pillow further up into the headboard. “No matter which way I lay, I can’t get comfortable. Those chairs tonight were hard.”

  “Isn’t that supposed to happen later on in the pregnancy?” I drawl, trying to wake myself up to deal with her plight.

  “I guess it can happen whenever because my hip is freakin’ killing me, and now I can’t go back to sleep.”

  I know by the way she huffs again that this is going to be a long night. Forcing my eyes open, I focus on the clock at the bedside table. Two in the morning. If I can get her back to sleep within an hour, I can at least get four more before I have to be up and down at the station. “Would talking help you go to sleep?” I ask, rolling over so that I’m facing her. She’s irritated and it could be the cutest thing I’ve ever seen in my life. I can tell by the circles under her eyes, she wouldn’t appreciate me saying this is cute.

  “Maybe?” her voice is doubtful.

  An idea pops into my head. A game I haven’t played since I was in Iraq. “Do you want to play a little game?”

  “Ryan, I’m not interested in getting naked with you right now. I’m not in the mood.” Her voice is annoyed and I can’t help the laugh that escapes my throat.

  “Not that kind of game,” I explain as I sit up, leaning back against the head board. “In Iraq when we couldn’t sleep, we’d play a game called truth or lie, because ya know, there wasn’t much you could do for a dare in the middle of a war zone. The person would say truth or lie, if it was truth, they got to tell you from what point in your life the truth had to be from, and if it was a lie, anything was fair game. So you tell me. Truth or lie.”

  She’s interested, I can tell because she’s quit squirming and she’s giving me her full attention. “Truth,” she finally says.

  “From what period in my life.”

  Frankly I’m a little scared at what she’s going to ask me. Most of my life is an open book where she’s concerned but there are definitely times and situations that I’ve wanted to keep to myself. Maybe that isn’t fair, because I’ve asked her to open her whole life up to me.

  “Why did you sometimes sleep in Trevor’s room on the floor when you were younger?” she asks quietly.

  Goddamn. She went in for the kill. I can tell by the way she’s reluctantly asked she doesn’t know whether I’ll answer or not, and she’s unsure if she should have questioned it. Maybe I’m quiet for too long because she rubs her hand up and down my shoulder.

  “You don’t have to answer if you don’t want. It’s just something I’ve always wondered.”

  “Nah,” I clear my throat, removing the boulder that’s lodged itself there. “I’ll tell you, it just might take me a while to get it out.”

  “I’ve got all night,” she fluffs her pillow, showing me that she won’t be going anywhere any time soon.

  “When I was eight, my dad started suffering from PTSD,” I start, my voice so rough it sounds like I swallowed a quarry full of fucking rocks.

  “Was he in the military?” she asks. “For some reason I didn’t think you joined because it was a family tradition.”

  “No, he wasn’t in the military. He was a night clerk at a convenience store off of I-65. One night he was robbed at gunpoint, beaten, and left for dead.”

  She gasps and for a split-second I want her sympathy. I want her to think he’d been a good guy who’d been at the wrong place at the wrong time. But I’ve never been the type of person to shy away from my past. “You don’t have to keep going.”

  “I do, because he doesn’t deserve your sympathy,” she grabs hold of my hand as she hears me speak, starting to gently rub the palm. “The men who robbed and beat him did it because he owed them money. My dad had a bad drug habit. He begged, borrowed, and stole to get his next fix.”

  “I had no idea,” she whispers.

  “Not many people did.” Although I wish they had. I dreamed so many nights someone would come and take me away from him. He’d clean up just enough every time child services was called. “Eventually my mom couldn’t handle it anymore.”

  “What did she do?” The tone of Whitney’s voice tells me she doesn’t truly want to know, she probably dreads this little game, but it’s better to get this out in the open than to let it fester. We all have our demons, and I think it’s better for her to see mine haunt me just as much as hers haunt her.

  “She left, but she wasn’t perfect either. Mom had her own problems, alcohol usually, but she also made bad decisions. I heard through the grapevine a few years back that she died, but her body remains unclaimed as a Jane Doe down by the gulf,” I squeeze Whitney’s hand hard. “I can’t bring myself to ever go and see if it’s truly her. It’s easier to think she’s still out there, maybe happy with the choices she made, even if she left me.”

  I hope that by telling Whitney this story she realizes how important it is for me to be there for my own child. She understands it’s not something I want to hold over her, but something I want to be a part of.

  “Did my parents know?” she finally asks, her tone strained. She grabs my hand, and I’m not sure if it’s to comfort me or her.

  I tilt my head back, looking up at the ceiling because it’s easier not to look into her eyes when I talk. “Eventually. For the longest time they thought my dad worked late – which he did – but then he never came home. By the time your mom understood, and I think she told your dad, I was a teenager,” I swallow hard, fighting back emotion I hardly ever allow myself to feel. “God, Whit, your parents saved my life. There were days I would have gone hungry had they not let me eat at their table. Your mom got to the point where she didn’t just buy me clothes and pass them off as extras Trevor didn’t need. She’d wait until I was at the house and take both of us shopping. I found out later that she talked to the school resource center about me and asked what it would take to be my guardian, but because they could never get anything to stick on my dad, it would never happen. She made sure Trevor and I were in the same classes, so if he had a field trip, she could send money in with my name on it. Your parents….” I stop, shaking my head at a loss for words for everything they’ve done for me. I don’t talk about it much because it’s so emotional for me. “Saved a teenage kid who had nowhere to go.”

  “Mom’s always been fond of you,” her voice trembles as she speaks. “And dad’s always spoken highly of you, I guess I just never thought to ask why.”

  “I’ve never told Tank this, so it stays between us,” I turn to my side, so I can look at her, because I want her to see the truth in my eyes. “When I turned eighteen, your dad took me aside and told me he’d pay for school for me, just like he had you and Tank. It broke me, Whit,” I shake my head, swallowing hard to dislodge the bad taste it gives me in my mouth. My parents should have been the people to do that, not my best friend’s dad. “I asked him how and like the man he is, he was honest. Told me they’d take a second mortgage out on their home to send me, a child that wasn’t their own, to college. I wanted to go, but I couldn’t put that burden on them. Not when they’d already done so much for me. I had good test scores for the Army, so I decided to j
oin and Tank followed, because we do everything together,” I laugh, but no one will know how much it meant to me when he went to boot camp with me. I’d expected to go alone in that venture of my life, but Tank’s closer to me than even a brother could be. “When I got home from Iraq, your dad had bought me a whole workshop for the woodwork I do. He said it cost less than a college education, and since I hadn’t taken him up on his offer, he could at least pay for something I’d enjoy doing.”

  “That’s when he bought Trevor his boat,” she grins, wiping tears from her eyes.

  “It’s the money he’d put aside for Tank for college, and he spent some of it on me. Do you know what that means to me?” I’m not even sure I can voice what it means, and to know I’ve kept a secret from all of them is killing me. Knowing I so badly want to be a part of their family, that I’m lying by omission isn’t going well for me.

  “I can tell by the way you’re getting emotional and the way you’ve always treated my parents with respect,” she runs a hand down my chest.

  “Which is why it’s been hard for me to keep this secret from them. If there’s anyone’s advice I want – it’s Stanley’s because your dad has been more of a dad to me than anyone else in this world. He doesn’t say it much, but he does tell me he loves me every once in a while,” I wipe at my chin, fighting the emotions that have welled up all night.

  She laughs, a watery sound as she reaches out and cups my face. “He’s a man of few words, but when he wants you to know how he feels, he definitely does.”

  “We have to tell them soon, Princess,” I draw a line in the sand, so to speak. “It don’t feel good, not having them involved in our lives. Not when they’ve done so much.”