“Kiss me again.”
He cocked his head. “Are you sure?”
She nodded her head. So he scooted closer, moving slowly to allow her time to change her mind or pull away. But she did neither, the only show of emotion coming from her eyes as they widened.
Then his mouth touched hers, gently, softly. A moment that only lasted a second or two, but as he went to pull away, she grabbed his shoulders to hold him still. Her tongue traced the seam of his lips and he opened. Just like that, it deepened and his mind kept repeating one phrase.
I’m kissing Church!
Holy shit, I’m actually kissing my friend!
Desire poured into every cell of his body, a potent feeling he’d never felt before. Electric and white hot. There’d been a few sexual encounters along the way in his army career, but the feelings rising in him now were completely different. Wanting to be closer, wanting more, he buried his fingers in her hair and immediately, she yanked away from him, breaking the kiss and leaving him blinking in confusion.
They stared at one another. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, matching his own labored breathing. And once again, his dick was cramped in the tight confines of his jeans.
“I … I…” her voice faded away.
He cleared his throat and shifted away, grimacing as his fake leg caused him to bumble a bit and sit on his testicles. With as much dignity as possible, he carefully rearranged himself.
“Hey, no worries,” he said and winced at how husky his voice sounded. Goddamn it, he was painfully aroused. “Anything I can do to help. Let me know.”
He had a feeling he was going to regret that offer.
She took a deep breath but didn’t say anything, instead just starting the truck and pulling out of the restaurant’s parking lot. Church didn’t talk and he couldn’t find anything to say, so they remained quiet the entire ride back to the compound. Night had fallen, and as they approached their respective dwellings, he was reluctant to let the evening end right there on a sour note.
Once she’d pulled up to the garage and cut the engine, they sat there in the dark. He wracked his brain for something to say, even if it was a simple goodbye.
“When I was about ten, my grandfather stopped some kid trying to pick his pocket, and being the bleeding heart he was, took the kid in. His name was Ricky Latorre.”
Darrell studied her profile. “I take it that was a bad thing to do?”
She shrugged. “Worked out for Ricky. And me and Cherry too, I guess, for a time. We suddenly had a brother and partner in crime.”
“But?”
“He broke his leg pretty badly when he was sixteen. Doctors gave him pain pills, and that was beginning of the end of Ricky as we knew him.”
He’d heard this story all too often. “Got hooked?”
“Yeah, you know how it goes. First the legit pain pills, then the illegal pain pills, then forget the pain pills and head straight for the heroin.”
He winced. “Saw my fair share of that when I was in rehab for the leg.”
“He … turned into a stranger. A horrible nightmare I couldn’t wake up from.”
“What did he do, Church?”
She shook her head, not wanting to answer.
“The only way he can hurt you now is if you let him. Don’t give him the power anymore.”
She frowned. “Ghosts do hurt.”
He reached over and took her hand in his. Unlike earlier, she tried to pull away, but he wouldn’t let go. Not this time, they’d come too far. He didn’t hold her tight, not to the point where she could feel trapped, but enough to know he wasn’t going to allow her to think about this Ricky person alone. Gradually, she relaxed and then her breathing returned to normal. She even squeezed his hand back.
“What did he do?” Darrell whispered.
Their eyes met, and he saw the answer even before she said it.
“He raped me,” she whispered back. “Over and over. Which was bad enough, but then he began to talk about Cherry. About hurting her. I knew he was out of control. I knew he wasn’t thinking straight, because how could our brother do this to me? And talk about doing that to her? But he did and the more he talked about Cherry, the more I got him to focus on me. I did things…”
Her hand began to shake.
“It’s okay, Church. Remember, he will never hurt you again.”
“I know,” she whispered. “I made sure of that. I made sure he could never hurt us again.”
“You don’t have to say any more.”
****
She knew that. The fact was, not even Cherry knew what she’d done to save them both, but there was something about Darrell that made her want to purge her soul.
“I wanted to end it, so I did think of suicide. I even went so far as to figure out how I’d do it.” This was the first time she’d ever made that confession. A little light pierced the darkness filling her soul. “I’ve never told another soul that. Not even Cherry. I got depressed and then I got mad. And I thought why should it be me? If I died, who would protect my sister? So I switched my thoughts from killing myself to killing him.”
“I’m glad you didn’t go through self-harming,” he said softly.
Now that the words began to flow, she wanted to confess everything and use this one opportunity to cleanse her sin.
“I knew it had to be realistic. Believable. Something that authorities wouldn’t look too much into. And I know how heroin takes a toll on the body. So…”
Her words faded out because this was the moment. Her confession. If she said it out loud now, there was no sealing that back into the bottle.
“You don’t have to, Church.”
“Yes, I do,” she said and took a deep breath. “I stole some insulin from someone I knew. And after one horrible night, when he was still flying high, I made sure he injected himself with enough insulin for his body to shut down. And if you repeat that I’ll deny it to my dying day.”
“I would never betray your trust like that.”
“Does that, ah, disgust you? Knowing I took a life?”
He shook his head. “I was a soldier. For years I carried a gun and lived on adrenaline. I think I’ve got you beat in the disgusting arena. You did what you had to do. Self-defense.”
She took a deep breath. “There was no rehabilitating him … no coming back from the shit he did. If that sends my soul to hell, so be it. This world is better off without such a monster.”
“I don’t think your soul is going to hell, Church. Did you ever consider that maybe the Powers That Be had you cross his path because they knew you would handle it? That you would come out the victor?”
“You … you really think that?”
“I do,” he said, nodding. “Yes, you had some shit done to you, but can you imagine what it would’ve done to Cherry? Or to some other innocent girl? He would’ve crushed them until they were dead, leaving him free to hurt others. Only someone strong enough could’ve stopped a person like that. Only you, Church.”
“Thank you, Darrell,” she whispered.
He leaned toward her, and she tensed but didn’t pull back. He kissed her forehead then rubbed his nose against hers before opening the door and leaving. Although he didn’t want to leave her, she had revealed a deep level of pain that he knew she needed to analyze. The best thing he could do for her now was let her process the raw emotions surging up.
Music blared from the clubhouse but Darrell was in no mood for a party. Irritation sliced through his euphoria, draining him of patience. He marched toward his room, intent on shutting out the hard rock ‘n’ roll pumping through the speakers, when Wick called out his name.
He entered the president’s office and shut the door behind him, which helped contain some of the decibel levels. Wick gestured to the chair in front of the desk and he eased down, rubbing his thigh. He couldn’t wait to get the prosthetic off.
“So I’ve set up a meeting tomorrow with that doctor,” Wick said. “I’d like for you to be there,
maybe even run point on it.”
Darrell blinked. “Me?”
“You are the expert in this matter, whether you like it or not. I’d like your opinion.”
“All right. But can I make one suggestion?”
Wick nodded.
“I’d like to have Abbott there too.”
Immediately, Wick shook his head. “No. I don’t want to bring up bad memories for her.”
“Those memories are going to be there regardless. You can’t shield them from her and hope they just go away. Her counsel should be just as valuable to you as mine is.”
Wick drummed his fingers on the desktop as he stared hard at Darrell, and Darrell made sure to maintain eye contact. Finally, after a moment or two, Wick sighed and relaxed his pose.
“Let me feel this woman out first. I don’t want to bring Abbott into a situation I’ve not sussed out.”
“What? You think she’s dangerous?”
“I think a woman can be the deadliest beast on the planet. Never turn your back on one.”
Darrell remembered the conversation he just had with Church. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to retire to my room. My damn leg is throbbing.”
“Of course. I’ll tell the revelers to turn the music down.”
“Thanks.”
True to his word, a few minutes later the obnoxious music quieted down. Darrell took off his fake leg and used a crutch to help himself balance in the shower. After drying off, he flopped onto his bed, naked, and the let breeze of his table fan lure him to sleep.
Chapter Eight
The next morning, Doctor Carleen Brogan walked into church with wide eyes, her mouth slightly open. If Darrell didn’t know any better, he’d bet her panties were wet, and it had nothing to do about the meeting he set up between her and Wick.
“Welcome, Doc,” Wick said. He rose and held out his hand. Carleen reached over and shook it.
“Thank you,” she murmured, smiling. “Wow, I can’t believe I’m here. I have to admit I’ve had a crush on bikers ever since the television show.”
Wick grimaced. “Well, things are a little different in real life.”
“Oh! I’m sure.” She giggled and winked. “I hate to watch doctor shows. Everything is so fake.”
“Dr. Brogan,” Darrell said, trying to steer the conversation back on track. Even he hated that damn television show. “Why don’t you explain to Wick why you wanted to sit and talk with us?”
“Of course,” she said, clearing her throat. “Well, as you know, drug addiction is extremely high in this section of the country. Veterans face a difficult challenge—”
“You don’t need to tell us what vets face,” Wick interrupted. “We’re all veterans. Some of us gave more than others.” He gave a nod toward Darrell.
Carleen glanced at him. “Yes. I see. I’m here because it’s personal for me. My brother’s official cause of death is contributed to overdosing. My thought process is to open a full-service detox and rehab center, offering everything from monitoring, support, counseling, and education. The majority of why people turn to hardcore drugs is to escape a multitude of reasons, hence the need to teach consequences and choices.”
“And how can the Forgotten Rebels help you?” Wick asked.
This seemed to be the question she’d been waiting for because any wide-eyed flirtatious demeanor she had earlier fell away. She narrowed her eyes and sat up straight.
“The best way, of course, is through a monetary nature,” she said.
“So you want money.”
“Donations are the only way a project of this nature can get the blueprints off the page and into reality.”
“And if I say no to this reality?”
She narrowed her eyes. “That wouldn’t be advisable.”
Wick leaned forward. “Excuse me?”
“You have men that need help,” she continued coolly. “Either through their own battles with addiction or their war with time. Bodies giving way to disease because of the abuse they’ve been put through. I would hate to be the one to deny them access to care because they didn’t meet requirements.”
“Requirements?” Darrell asked. “You’d turn people away?”
“Hopefully it won’t come to that.”
“Only guaranteed through a monetary donation, correct?”
“I thought you understood this part of the country is poor,” Darrell said testily. “The majority of people don’t have two cents to rub together, let alone a donation for treatment.”
“But they have enough money to buy drugs?” she asked scornfully.
Her sharp question contrasted with the caring doctor she portrayed. Suddenly, she took a deep breath and before his eyes, transformed back into the coquettish flirt he’d seen earlier. He glanced at Wick, who had narrowed his eyes. Darrell knew that look well. It was the look he got whenever something didn’t add up.
“I think this is a proposition I’m going to have to think over,” Wick murmured.
She fluttered her eyelashes. “I’m not stupid. I know you probably make your money through illegal means. More than likely from the drugs I’m wanting to stamp out of existence for your members.”
“Is that a threat of some type?”
“No,” she said, smiling. “Just an observation made in mutual respect.”
“Mutual respect, huh?”
She leaned a little forward, and her boobs pushed against the V-neck cut to her shirt. “I think I’ve made my position clear.”
“Quite,” Wick said. “Thank you for stopping by, Dr. Brogan.”
Darrell gave a mental sigh of relief that he was ending the meeting.
Carleen rose. “And when can I expect your generous donation?”
“What ballpark were you expecting?” Darrell asked.
“Large enough for your men to have access to my clinic.”
“I’ll have to get back with you.”
“You have my number.” She smiled at Darrell. “Perhaps you can show me out.”
Confused, he looked toward Wick, who gave a nod. Darrell rose, opened the door to church and held it open as she walked out.
“Thank you,” she murmured.
“S’okay,” he replied. “Although I don’t know what you expected.”
“I didn’t expect anything.” Suddenly, she reached out and grabbed his arm, bringing him to a halt. When he turned, she stepped closer, a little too close for his comfort. “Except maybe a little … negotiation.”
Her implication was clear, but it was an invitation he refused to accept. “I’m sorry, I’m not quite sure what you—”
She practically threw her body into his, pushing past his objection to mold herself to him. Immediately, he tried to back away, but his shoulders hit the compound wall, throwing his balance off. So he pushed against her shoulders in an effort to get her off him.
“Don’t fight me, Darrell,” she said, her hands becoming bold in running up and down his body. “I know you want me.”
“I do not want you,” he said heatedly. “Get off me.”
“You think that mechanic can satisfy you?” she demanded. “You need a real woman.”
He didn’t want to hurt her, but his desire to be free of her cloying clutches outweighed his gentlemanly tendencies. He pushed her hard enough so she stumbled back then held up his hands to keep her away.
“Listen, I have no idea why you think I want you, but I can assure you I do not,” he ground out angrily. “Don’t touch me again.”
She crossed her arms and gave him a snide smirk. “And who do you think your little mechanic will believe? Me or you?”
“I think you better leave now.”
“I’ll leave for now. Tell Wick I’ll be expecting his call. Have a good day.”
Anger spiked through Darrell, directed at the woman in front of him. What was her ultimate motive for this little display? She wiggled her fingers at him and walked away, obviously not needing him to show her the way out. He had a need for a shower because
the doctor’s little cougar stalking made him feel dirty as hell.
It occurred to him as he made his way to his room that this was probably how Church felt every goddamn day, only about a thousand times worse. And it pissed him off. If he could resurrect Ricky, he’d happily kill him, and make it hurt a thousand times worse than a simple overdose could ever inflict.
****
Church took a step back and stretched her arms over her head, trying to work out the kinks in her back. She hadn’t been able to sleep so she had decided to work on Darrell’s bike. In the wee hours of the morning, she’d made a lot of progress. There was still a ton of work to be done, but in her sleep-deprived brain, an idea had taken root. Darrell didn’t have a name within the club, and a large part of him felt out of place in a world he’d once devoted everything to. If she could give him his bike and a name, perhaps he’d feel more at ease.
She glanced at the clock over in the corner and saw it was time to open, so she dropped her wrench and flipped the switch to open the bays. The next thing she did was start working on the Mercedes. Something about Doctor Carleen Brogan didn’t sit well and she wanted this job to be over and done with.
Two hours later, she closed the lid on the car and wiped the shiny hood of any fingerprints left behind. Then she pulled it out of the bay, the engine purring like a kitten, and let it wait in the sunshine for its owner.
Deciding it was time to catch up on paperwork, she made a pot of coffee and then sat at the desk in the office and began to go through correspondence that had stacked up over time. About thirty minutes later, Carleen arrived, once more stuttering over rocks until she made it to the steps that led up to the office.
“Hello!” she said as soon as she spotted Church. “Is the car done?”
“Yep,” Church replied, sliding over a newly printed invoice. The first official one she’d created since moving to Stevens. “I accept cash or cash.”
Carleen giggled, which grated on Church’s eardrums. What was it about this woman that irritated her nerves?
“Certainly,” the other woman said. She reached into her purse and pulled out a square wallet. “Oh! I completely forgot about this! Do you mind giving it back to Darrell? He must have left it behind at … well, at some point.”
Warrior (Forgotten Rebels MC Book 4) Page 6
