Suddenly, some people shifted and she saw a tall man suddenly walk by, dressed in black and looking completely out of place. It wasn’t the way he was dressed, however, that caught her attention. It was the fact that the man was a dead ringer for Lee Masterson.
Dropping the magazine, she jumped to her feet and took off after the man in black. But once she got to the area he had been standing, she discovered he was gone. Turning in a circle, she studied each person intently, even going outside to see if he had left. But she saw no one. At least, she didn’t see Lee Masterson.
Had she hallucinated him?
Or was she projecting a memory onto some stranger?
Surely he didn’t have any reason to come to Stevens, Missouri, so it had to be her own imagination. Shaking her head, she rubbed the back of her neck as she walked back toward the waiting area and a few minutes later, Joe-Joe came ambling down the corridor, clutching a white bag. He smiled and nodded to several people as he did his hobble walk, bumping a few times into the wall. For a moment Church thought she’d probably have to help him off the ground, but he always managed to catch himself. Finally, he saw her and waved, so she once more put her magazine down and headed his way.
“All done?” she asked.
He held up his bag. “Got my meds to keep the old ticker a-ticking. Do you want to hear what they are?”
“No,” she replied and turned, heading toward the entrance.
“I got some statin drug for cholesterol,” he said.
“Don’t care.”
“And some high blood pressure medicine.”
“Again, don’t care.”
“I got digoxin. That’s important. It’s why I couldn’t get those blue erectile dysfunction pills.”
This time Church didn’t bother to say anything. She simply sped up her walk, knowing he couldn’t catch up that quickly. The last thing she wanted to hear was more about his ED problem. She waited in the truck until he managed to hobble up and slide into the passenger seat.
“Ready to go home?” she asked.
“Yeah,” he muttered. “Thanks for bringing me. I’m all set for another three months.”
“You come every three months?”
He nodded. “I had a mild heart attack a year ago. The doctor wants to monitor me closely for another year.”
Church frowned. “Shouldn’t you be in therapy or something?”
“Did that,” he said with a shrug. “Now it’s a wait and see, with lots of damn blood work and tests. Knock on wood, this old heart is doing well and my stents are working like a charm. God willing, I’ll be here for years to come.”
She didn’t say anything else, mainly because she didn’t know what to say. Having had no experience with someone who had heart problems left her slightly inarticulate. She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye.
“Can I ask you a personal question?”
“Is it about my penis pump?”
She sighed. “There will never be a time in the history of forever when I ask you about that.”
“Well, I guess so. Does that mean I can ask you a question?”
This was the tricky part about trying to find out information on someone. Church wavered on her curiosity because she knew he could be just as invasive. Was she ready to talk about herself?
“It’s about the dents in your forehead. I was wondering how you got them.”
He reached up and rubbed the spots. “I was in a convoy in Korea when mortar shells started raining down on us. While me and a few other men scrambled for cover, a truck blew up in front of us. The others I was with didn’t make it. I got my forehead dented and a ticket back home.”
She tried to imagine the pain he must have endured. Physical pain and emotional pain were two completely separate feelings.
“So how’s business?”
“How’s business? Is that really your question?”
“No, I was building up to my question.”
“Great,” she muttered. “I’m sure you know how my business is going. Slowly.”
“Let’s be honest. Snails move faster than how your business is going.”
“Fuck you, old man.”
He held up his index finger. “Wait now, I have an idea. And you’re going to love it. Now, this is what you do. Put an ad in the newspaper saying that, for the next two months, you’ll charge half of any quoted price from your competitor.”
“Half?”
“Yep,” he said smugly. “Once you prove you’re as competent as that asshole Miller, then you can slowly raise prices and steal his business.
She thought about it for a moment. “I must say, Joe-Joe, that’s a pretty good idea.”
“I know! And now that I’ve got you so soft and pliant, are you and Darrell a couple?”
Church blinked. The abrupt shift in topic had her blinking in confusion. “I … don’t know.”
“Come on,” he scoffed. “That’s a cop-out.”
“No, really,” she insisted. “I don’t know how to answer the question because I don’t know. How does one move from the friend column into the boyfriend one?”
“Let me ask you, do you love him?”
“What? No, of course not.”
“Of course not? Are you sure you’re telling the truth?”
“What makes you think I’m lying?”
“I don’t think you’re lying to me, but maybe to yourself.”
“No, Joe-Joe. I don’t love Darrell.” The words were thick in her throat, and it took her a little more force to get them out. “I can’t love him.”
“Why can’t you?”
“Because I’m incapable of love.”
Joe-Joe laughed. “What a bunch of bullshit.”
“Excuse me?”
“You love Cherry, don’t ya?”
“That’s different,” Church replied testily. “She’s my sister.”
He shook his head. “Love is love, girl. If you love one person, you can love another. Even in death you can love a person. I haven’t stopped loving my granddaughter, even though she was a little twat.”
Why she was shocked at his language, she didn’t know. Maybe because he’d be so crass when talking about a family member.
“Do you at least like him?”
“Yes,” she replied immediately. “He’s … my best friend.”
He reached over and patted her shoulder. “You trust him, and sometimes the greatest love is born from that.”
Joe-Joe didn’t say anything else. He folded his arms together and stared out the side window, watching the landscape speed by as they drove back to Stevens. His words played over in her head like a broken record, skipping back to the question of do you love him.
She didn’t know what she felt for Darrell.
But it couldn’t be love.
Could it?
****
The question continued to dance through her head all through the night, leading to another bout of sleeplessness. So she worked on Darrell’s bike, and slowly, her vision took shape. It wouldn’t be long until it was done.
It was late when a knock came on the bay door, so she put down her tools and moved closer to it.
“Hello?” she called out loudly.
“It’s me,” Darrell said. “Can you open up?”
Her heart leap-frogged into her throat. She reached up to smooth down her hair, only to realize she had grease on her fingers. Wiping them on the seat of her pants, she took a deep breath to calm down her racing pulse before opening the bay door. Slowly, he was revealed. Feet, legs, chest, and finally his face. A cigarette dangled from his lips and it was enough of a turn-off to knock her out of her uncertainty.
“I don’t like cigs,” she said.
He pulled it out of his mouth and flicked it away. “Then I quit.”
“Just like that?”
He shrugged. “It was only an occasional habit. I’d light one up when I was stressed or nervous.”
“I make you nervous?”
“J
esus, woman, of course you do.” He ran a hand over the back of his neck. “No one has ever meant more to me and I’m terrified you’re gonna kick me to the curb.”
His confession surprised her. “I … I…”
“From the first moment I laid eyes on you, this awareness smacked me between the eyes,” he continued. “And it kept building, layer upon layer, until I realized I couldn’t ignore it anymore. I love you, Church. And I know that probably freaks you out, but I have to tell you the truth of what’s in here.”
He tapped the area on his chest where his heart beat. So many thoughts raced through her head but only one thing stood out in the chaotic blur of emotions, and that was how important Darrell had come to mean to her. Her best friend, her confidante, and perhaps the only person she didn’t mind being with for more than a few minutes. Was that love?
Since she couldn’t answer the question, she held open her arms. Relief erased the stress lines bracketing his eyes and mouth as he wrapped his arms around. She reached up to shut the bay door, sealing them in privacy. He cupped her face and bent, kissing her tenderly on the lips. But tender wasn’t what she craved. She wanted to show him just how much he meant to her because speaking the words wasn’t an option. Not then and maybe not ever. So she took him by the hand and led him over to the sofa.
“Someday we may want to try a bed,” he mused.
She didn’t respond, instead, she reached for his jean zipper, easing it down. “I want to do something.”
“Okay.”
“You trust me?”
“Of course.”
She fell to her knees and tugged on the jeans, easing them down until his hard cock came free, and explored for a moment, tracing over the firm, smooth skin and even dipped into the crack to trace the seam until she skimmed his sac. Darrell groaned and wiggled his hips a little as he buried his hands in her hair. Moisture leaked from the tip so she used the natural lubrication to massage him, building up his own pleasure to become comfortable with her own. The past tried to rear its ugly head, a black hole waiting to grow bigger in order to engulf her soul, and it took every ounce of willpower to keep the darkness at bay.
Darrell wasn’t a small man, even though he was slightly underweight for his body size. His dick certainly didn’t suffer from the lack of proper nutrition. Church licked the tip, tasting him to make sure she didn’t find him disgusting, and was pleasantly surprised at the sweet and salty flavor. She sucked it into her mouth, using the flat top of her tongue to massage up and down while Darrell made breathy little moans.
“Holy crap, Church,” he said a bit breathlessly.
Pulling off his cock, she pumped the shaft with her hand. “You like?”
“Hell yes, but you don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”
“I want to, Darrell. I think about you and me … I keep replaying our time together, dissecting it, and I want to do it again.”
“I want to do it again, too.”
“Good,” she murmured. “I want to drive you crazy.”
“Don’t worry, you already do.”
“Sit down,” she ordered softly.
When he obeyed, she stood before him and slowly stripped, shedding the layers of clothing piece by piece. They dropped to the floor in various heaps and she kicked them aside to kneel in front of him, taking his prosthetic leg and unbuckling the latches. The skin underneath seemed angry, so she gently massaged the puckered flesh that had been pulled over and stitched closed. He moaned a little, relaxing back into the sofa cushions, his eyes mere slits.
“That feels good,” he murmured.
“Does it still hurt?”
“Yes, and no,” he replied. “Sometimes I still feel my leg. Sometimes it hurts so goddamn bad I can’t breathe. Does it make me unmanly to admit that I cry when that pain hits?”
She shook her head no. “I’ve cried a lot too.”
He cupped her face. “Perhaps we can don’t have to be alone anymore when the pain hits. Perhaps we can comfort each other.”
“You would do that for me?”
“Always, Church. All you have to do is ask.”
His cock stood like a steel rod from between his thighs. Grasping it gently in her hand, she pumped the shaft a couple of times.
“I’m asking you to fuck me, Darrell.”
“Jesus,” he groaned, his hips bucking a little. “I need a condom.”
She grabbed his discarded pants. “Is it in your wallet?”
“Actually, front pocket.”
She pulled out four foiled packets. “My, you’re ambitious.”
“No, just hopeful.”
She opened the small packet and rolled the rubber down his cock before raising herself up a little, just enough to position his cock at her entrance. Excitement gripped her stomach as she sank down, her pussy practically grabbing and pulling him inside. He held her still for a moment, to allow her to adjust to his girth before his hands moved her hips. Back and forth, very tenderly and slowly, until her passageway eased at his girth.
Needing to move, she rocked her hips. Darrell made a moaning-hissing noise that she took as a good sign, so she rocked her hips again and leaned over to snip his earlobe which jump-started his hips to pump faster. In and out they hammered each other, and she wasn’t sure if it was him out of control or her. All she knew was how incredible it felt to be with him.
“Ah, Darrell,” she breathed just as her climax hit, coursing through her body with exquisite pleasure.
“Church,” he gasped just as his body surged against hers, shuddering as his orgasm rolled through him. After a moment, he relaxed back down and pulled her sweaty body with him. She could feel both their hearts beating frantically, in tune with one another.
“Thank you,” she murmured, her cheek resting against his chest.
“For what?”
“For trusting me.”
He squeezed her shoulders. “It’s mutual, you know. I care about you.”
“I know. Me too.”
It wasn’t an admission, but for now, it was the most she could give.
Chapter Eleven
Early the next morning, she kicked Darrell out so she could get to the local newspaper before the cut-off time for print for the next day’s edition. Darrell grumbled the entire time but she didn’t have time to placate him. She showered and dressed, hurrying into town. She pulled into the newspaper parking lot ten minutes later and walked into the cool interior. It didn’t take long to place her advertisement, leaving to hope that Joe-Joe’s idea paid off.
Church returned to her garage and opened shop. Since she no longer had a client, she decided to work on Darrell’s bike. The morning progressed into the afternoon, bringing unbearable humidity with it. Heat plastered her hair to her forehead. Beads of sweat ran down the sides of her face, and the uncomfortable tickle of wetness squished its way between her breasts. Even the garage fan couldn’t put a dent in the humidity. Church grabbed the towel from her back pocket to wipe her face once more, grimacing against the lackluster help it offered. Of course she chose one of the hottest days to solder wires together in an attempt to put the bike’s electric system back together. A few more days and Darrell could be riding again.
Deciding she needed a break, she rose from her cramped hunch, stretching out the pops and cracks her back needed before heading over to the fridge to grab some water. As she took a deep drink of the cold liquid, the sound of a siren pierced the distance. It grew steadily in volume until she realized that it was an ambulance, and it was heading directly to the clubhouse across the street.
The main gate was open and Stryker directed the ambulance inside the compound. Others rushed around and a sense of chaos had taken over the Forgotten Rebels. Church didn’t see Darrell among the others and concern gripped her belly. She ran over and came to a skidding halt at the open gate. Club brothers were all standing around, faces creased with worry, and that was when her concern mutated into fear.
She grabbed Stryker’s arm. “W
here’s Darrell?”
“What? I don’t know.”
“Then who needs this ambulance?”
“Joe-Joe,” Stryker replied. A touch of sadness underlined his words. “Looks like he had another heart attack.”
Pain struck her like a sharp knife. “What? Oh, no.”
All she could do was watch helplessly as the paramedics came hurrying out of the clubhouse, pushing a gurney. One man pumped air from a manual respirator bag into Joe-Joe’s mouth while the other one kept a running commentary on vitals. The club girls stood around crying and all too soon, Joe-Joe was inside the ambulance and it was racing away, heading toward the freeway.
“Church!” Darrell cried out and she swiveled around to see him hobble out of the house. “They’re taking Joe-Joe to the VA hospital.”
She nodded. “I’m driving.”
Turning around, she ran back to the garage to close it up. As she slid behind the wheel, Darrell pulled himself into the passenger seat. Seconds later, she sped off after the ambulance. It was long gone by the time she got on the freeway, even though she was pushing the accelerator far past the posted speed limit. By sheer luck, no cops were lurking with radar traps, and she made it to the VA hospital in record time.
“Go,” Darrell said, waving her on once she parked the truck.
“You want me to help you?”
He shook his head. “No, go find out about Joe-Joe.”
“Okay.”
Church raced through the parking lot, into the hospital where a security guard was able to direct her to the emergency room. Urgency nipped at her heels, causing her heart to pound with a deep level of despair. The check-in desk made her come to a sudden stop and the receptionist looked at her questioningly.
“Can I help you?”
“Yes,” Church panted. “A man was just brought in. Joe-Joe … damn it, I don’t know his last name. Heart attack. Old biker dude.”
“Are you family?” she asked skeptically.
“I … I…”
Darrell hurried into the ER, joining her. “We’d like information on Joseph Krieger,” he said to the woman.
“You’re relatives?” she asked again, sounding a little more suspicious.
Warrior (Forgotten Rebels MC Book 4) Page 9
