Warrior (Forgotten Rebels MC Book 4)

by Beth D. Carter

  “Yes,” Darrell confirmed. The sound of motorcycles filtered through the door when it swished open. “Cousins. Including the dozen or so bikers getting ready to come inside once they park.”

  Church almost sagged with relief. Her mind had gone completely blank.

  The woman’s eyes widened. “Oh! I see. Okay. Um, Joseph Krieger, yes, he was admitted. As soon as possible, the doctor will come out and give you an update.”

  “Okay,” Darrell said. “We appreciate it.”

  Church watched as club members came filtering into the emergency room, the once boisterous bunch now quiet and somber. Cherry walked in with Heart and came over to sit with her, and Church laid her head on her sister’s shoulder. For the first time in her life, she was glad she wasn’t alone.

  The clock hands crawled forward, each second an infinitesimal eternity. The world narrowed and she watched the entrance that led back to the triage area, where Joe-Joe lay, willing him to hold on. Mentally telling him that couldn’t die. Wick tried getting information but it was mostly a horrible waiting game. Then Church saw the doctor step into the waiting room, taking a deep breath as if bracing himself for the task waiting for him, and she knew.

  Joe-Joe was gone.

  Her heart sank as numbness crept over her skin. She couldn’t move, couldn’t even blink. Noise became a distant blur whirling around, making absolutely no sense. Darrell leaned forward and covered his face with his hands. Wick punched the wall. The rest of the assembled Rebels broke down but all she could do was sit there, frozen in place, wishing she had the power to turn back time.

  Wishing she could save him.

  She rose, ignoring everyone, and marched out of the hospital, making a beeline for her truck. Sliding behind the wheel, she turned on the engine and then scrolled through the radio stations until she found one blaring out heavy metal. She hated the music, but she needed the screeching sound to obliterate all of her thoughts. No more thinking, no more feeling, no more caring.

  Chapter Twelve

  The last thing Church wanted to do was see any progression from the compound across the street, so she hid out in the office, playing solitaire on her computer. Anger bubbled inside, although it was a helpless, futile feeling and she didn’t know where or how to release the resentment. She started questioning why she even came to Stevens because if she had stayed in Springfield, then she wouldn’t be hurting. She wouldn’t be sad.

  She wouldn’t care that Joe-Joe had died.

  As she debated if she wanted to close shop and head out somewhere … anywhere … tires crunched on the gravel parking lot and a badly rumbling engine sputtered off. Curious, Church swiveled to the door and a moment later a heavyset woman, dressed in a shapeless summer dress, entered. Uncertainty creased her brow as she held up a newspaper clipping.

  “Hello,” Church greeted.

  “Hi,” the woman said. “I saw this ad in the paper and wondered if it was real.”

  “My fifty-percent-off sale?” Church asked.

  The woman nodded.

  “Yes, it’s absolutely real. My name is Church. How can I help you?”

  “Hi, I’m Robin. My car is messed up and Miller told me it’s gonna take four hundred dollars to fix, but I just can’t afford that.” She sighed and her shoulders slumped. “I don’t have that much but if your ad is right, and if maybe you can accept some sort of payment plan, I just need to be able to drive it to work and to daycare.”

  An air of desperation wafted off her like a thick perfume and Church couldn’t help but feel bad for her. Stevens was one of the poorest counties in Missouri, and the woman looked like she was on her last leg.

  Church stood. “Let’s check it out.”

  An old silver Ford, with peeling paint looking like some type of disease, waited with the windows rolled down. A young boy sat in the backseat, playing with a couple of action figures.

  “Pop the hood and start it up,” Church directed.

  It took a few attempts for the car to start up, and it sounded even worse up close. How the thing managed to drive as much as it did was a mystery.

  A few minutes later, after a brief inspection, Church knew exactly how to help Robin. She closed the lid and mimed for Robin to turn it off.

  “I can fix this for a fraction of what Miller told you,” she told Robin. “But I’m going to need a day to work on it. Do you have an alternate means of transportation?”

  Robin nodded her head. “Yeah. I can have a friend pick us up.”

  Church held out her hand. “Come back this time tomorrow.”

  Robin’s shoulders relaxed a little. “Thank you, Church.”

  Twenty minutes later, Church had the dilapidated Ford in her bay, and she was busy bringing the engine off life support. Most of the work consisted of replacing belts, changing the spark plugs, and replacing a few parts. The work kept her busy through the day and she was able to ignore everything happening across the street until Wick showed up unannounced.

  “I don’t want to hear it,” Church said, moving around the garage as she cleaned up.

  Wick crossed his arms. “You’re going to have to because he left everything to you.”

  The words hit her in her heart, and for a moment, she struggled to catch her breath. “What?”

  “All of it,” Wick clarified. “Including his bike.”

  She shook her head. “You have to be mistaken.”

  “I’m not, Church.”

  “But … but … why? Why me?”

  “Because you filled that place in his heart that was missing his granddaughter.” He sighed. “I can’t make you take anything. Or even fucking care. But if you want to honor him, then you’ll accept that he cared about you.”

  The explanation shattered her. When he turned to leave, she called out, “Wait!”

  Wick turned, one eyebrow raised.

  “I’ll … I’ll come with you.”

  He nodded. She quickly closed shop and walked with him to the compound. No music played. No one drank. The club girls were all dressed in black. Mourning had come to the Forgotten Rebels, and the somber feel of the club made her heart hurt.

  Wick led her to an open door where Darrell and Cherry waited. He gave her an encouraging nod and she took a deep breath, stepping into the sparsely furnished room.

  “I took out all the items of a … deeply personal nature,” Wick told her. “I figured you wouldn’t want to see that stuff.”

  Church immediately remembered Joe-Joe’s pride over his penis pump and couldn’t contain a sad, little smile. “Thanks.”

  “You want us to stay?” Darrell asked.

  She shook her head. “Give me a moment.”

  “Sure thing,” he said.

  He and Wick walked away, and Cherry went to follow, but Church grabbed her arm.

  “Would you stay?”

  “Of course,” Cherry murmured.

  They entered the room and a wave of sadness hit her so hard, she thought her knees would buckle.

  “Jesus, what am I supposed to do?” she asked, more toward herself but Cherry decided to answer.

  “I would say to pack everything up that you don’t want to keep. We can donate it to a church charity or something.”

  “He should’ve just left this to the club.”

  “He wanted to leave it to someone he cared for,” Cherry replied. “To you.”

  She shrugged and spent the next few minutes cleaning out the one dresser drawer, placing clothes on the bed. In the back of the last drawer, she found a small wooden jewelry box with the initials TK.

  “Trevie Krieger,” she whispered. “They can finally be together.”

  As she stared at the box, something else caught her eye. An empty pill container. She picked it up and a few pills rattled around inside.

  “Cherry, look at this.”

  Her sister took the bottle. “What about it?”

  “It’s his heart pills,” Church said. “And it’s almost empty.”

  “So he ne
eded a refill?”

  “No, check out the date. He just got a three-month supply.” A memory came to her. “Oh no.”

  “What?”

  “I think I saw Masterson at the hospital.”

  Cherry blinked. “You what?”

  “When I was waiting for Joe-Joe to get done with his appointment, I thought I saw Masterson there. What if … what if he killed Joe-Joe?”

  “With a bottle of pills?” Cherry shook her head. “First, why would Masterson come to Stevens? I’ve kept my end of the bargain. Only you know what really happened. And second, poisoning someone isn’t really Masterson’s style. The man is an assassin. He uses a gun.”

  “But … if this is empty … where are the pills?”

  She turned and looked around, trying to find more of the little yellow pills Joe-Joe had shown her, but his room was so sparse it soon became clear that the medicine was nowhere else.

  “Church, I know you don’t want to hear this, but are you sure he didn’t take them? You know, like all of them together?”

  “Are you implying he might have committed suicide?” She shook her head. “No. He wouldn’t have done that.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Because he wouldn’t! He wouldn’t have done that to us because he knows how devastated he felt when Trevie died, so he wouldn’t have put us through that feeling by taking his own life.”

  Cherry put down the shirt she was folding so she could take Church’s hands. “I know it might be difficult to swallow but you don’t know what was going through his mind. He endured a lot—”

  Church yanked her hands away. “Are you placating me?”

  “No! I just think—”

  “Did you not hear anything I just said, Cherry? He wouldn’t kill himself! I saw Masterson! Put the puzzle pieces together and stop harping on this suicide belief!”

  “That would mean Masterson broke into this compound, found out which room belonged to Joe-Joe, and forced him to swallow a bunch of heart pills. It doesn’t make sense. Church—”

  “No!” She turned away, grabbing the few personal items of Joe-Joe’s she wanted to keep. “If Masterson is here, then you’re in trouble, don’t you get it? He’s back and he’s here to hurt us. So get your head out of your ass and tell Heart to get you someplace safe.”

  She marched out of the bedroom, almost bumping into Darrell, Wick, and Heart.

  “Hey, what—”

  “I’ve got the stuff I want. Get rid of the rest,” she told him and started to march past them. Then a thought hit her and she halted. “Did he go anywhere last night?”

  “I don’t know,” Wick replied.

  “Yeah, he had a date,” Heart said. Darrell and Wick both looked at him in surprise. “Why else would he have a penis pump? Geez. Use some logic, guys.”

  “Heart, I think I saw Masterson at the medical center,” she told her brother-in-law.

  “The hell?” Heart growled. “I thought we were free of him.”

  “What if he hurt Joe-Joe?”

  Heart blinked. “Why would he hurt Joe-Joe?”

  “I don’t know!” she said frustratingly. “None of this makes sense, I know, but I can tell you that Joe-Joe’s heart pills are gone and he was supposedly on a date last night, which gave Masterson plenty of time to do something. Do you know who the woman was, so we can question her?”

  “Blonde woman from what I saw,” Heart replied. “Drove a Mercedes.”

  That shocked Church speechless. It was Darrell who took up the questioning.

  “Carleen Brogan? Are you shitting us?”

  Heart shrugged. “Is she that bad?”

  “She’s the doctor,” Wick told Heart. “You know, the one who wants to open the rehab center.”

  “Oh crap,” Heart muttered. “Maybe she saw something last night.”

  “I’m going back to the garage,” Church said. “I want to put Joe-Joe’s stuff away. Then I think we should find Carleen and try to figure out if Masterson was anywhere near them.”

  “If he’s back, I’m getting Cherry out of here,” Heart stated.

  “Good idea,” Church said. “You can go to the cabin.”

  Heart shook his head. “No way. Masterson knows that place.”

  “Why not go say hi to Kix and my sister?” Wick asked. “You’ll be protected there and can find out if Mac discovered anything on the good doctor.”

  “Yeah, okay, sounds good.” Heart pointed at Church. “Don’t go looking for trouble.”

  “Just keep my sister safe,” she ordered.

  He nodded and turned, giving a wave over his shoulder. Relief washed over Church, knowing her sister would be well protected. She may not know what Cherry saw in Heart, but at least he was man enough to protect her.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “You had a customer?” Darrell asked as he walked in after her, looking at the old Ford.

  “Yeah.”

  “Finally, eh?”

  “Actually, Joe-Joe had this great idea…”

  She trailed off as she remembered the last time she talked to him. You trust him, and sometimes the greatest love is born from that. She now wished she had five more minutes of his wisdom.

  “When my grandfather died, I had already pushed him away,” she said softly. Sadly. “For a time I hated him because he had brought Ricky into our lives. I couldn’t understand how to wrap my head around the fact that he didn’t see what was happening. How could he not know?”

  She bit her lip, trying to keep it from quivering.

  “I might have reminded Joe-Joe of his granddaughter,” she whispered. “But he reminded me of having a grandfather again.”

  Tears were winning, tearing her perfectly perfected shell apart at the seams. So many things she’d carefully constructed, brick by brick, making sure the layers were so tightly woven together nothing could rip them apart. But she never figured on a stealth attack. Without even realizing it, Joe-Joe infiltrated like a virus. And she missed him.

  “Come here,” Darrell murmured. He pulled her into his arms and hugged her close. “Let it go, Church.”

  She tried to stiffen up but couldn’t find the strength to dredge up that shell. Inch by inch, it cracked and fell away until the dam burst and emotion swamped her. The cold numbness disappeared, leaving her helpless to fight the tears as they gathered in her eyes, running down in her cheeks. Great wracking sobs of pain burst forth, and she collapsed into Darrell’s solid body.

  “I’ve got you,” he said softly.

  Years of anger, resentment, and sadness left her in a mass exodus, and suddenly it was more than just the loss of Joe-Joe. She sobbed for the girl she’d been, for the innocence stolen, and for the hatred she’d felt toward herself. Ricky had stripped more from her than her virginity. In order to protect Cherry, Church had played his awful games. Some people liked being whipped or spanked or humiliated, and she didn’t understand that draw at all. Sex had been painful and hate-filled, but that all changed with Darrell. Whatever magic balm he possessed, it soothed the bitterness and contempt that had festered in her soul.

  She hadn’t even cried when her grandfather died.

  Finding release left her hollow. Drained. Darrell lay back and gathered her on his chest. Church didn’t even have the energy to try to get comfortable, instead, she trusted him enough to mold her into his body. His heart beat under her ear, creating a sense of safety and contentment. She closed her eyes and relaxed.

  ****

  Darrell woke up, cramped and needing to take a piss. Very carefully, he maneuvered Church until he was able to slither out from under her. She didn’t even make a peep, actually burrowing further into the old sofa cushions. He kissed her brow softly before heading into the office to take a leak. After washing his hands, he decided to head back across the street to the compound because he knew Church. She wasn’t going to respond well to the fact that she lost control, so if he gave her some space, she’d be able to analyze in private.

  A yawn hit
him as he walked through the moonlit night toward the compound. As he approached the side door, however, a noise startled him and he paused to search the darkness. A person emerged from the shadows, illuminated by the quarter moon overhead.

  “Who’s there?” he asked.

  Carleen Brogan stepped forward. “I need some help.”

  “Help?” He hurried over to her. “What’s wrong? What can—”

  All of a sudden, blinding pain ripped through his side. His leg buckled and he stumbled, falling to his knees. Looking down, his hand came away covered in blood. Confused, he glanced back at Carleen, first wondering what the hell happened, but also because he needed medical help. But she stood staring at him with a satisfied smirk, a knife gripped tightly in her hand. Blood ran down the blade like thick ink.

  “What the hell?” he demanded.

  “Get in the car,” she ordered coldly.

  “I need a hospital.”

  “I didn’t hit any vitals. You won’t bleed to death.”

  “It fucking hurts!”

  “Good,” she said smugly. “I want you to hurt.”

  Confusion swam through him. “Why?”

  “Because the only way to hurt Church is to hurt the people she loves.”

  A horrible thought crept into his head. “Did you hurt Joe-Joe?”

  She didn’t answer, but a satisfied glint transformed her coldness. She tossed him a set of handcuffs. “Put them on.”

  The metal links clanked together as he held them up with one hand. “Are you fucking serious? No.”

  Carleen stepped around him and placed the blade against the back of his neck. “I can cut the carotid before you can even blink.”

  The slippery serum of his own blood felt cold against his skin. Deciding he had no choice, he put the handcuffs around his wrists and snapped them closed. Carleen tested them, making sure he couldn’t escape.

  “Good. Now get in the car.”

  “I’m going to bleed all over your Mercedes.”

  She shrugged. “I don’t care. I only got that car to get closer to Church. Come on. It’s time to teach that bitch she can’t mess with family and not expect to pay the consequences.”