Renegade Heart (Renegades Book 1)

by Lissa Lynn Thomas

  Luckily, the morning waitress, Zora, comes gliding in to distract me. Zora's bright smile is affixed in place, her light brown eyes alive with curiosity. I know without a doubt that she's about to grill me for details on what happened with Raif and Pippa. I realize that this is what I can look forward to wherever I go for the foreseeable future. Or I can just barricade myself in the saloon and let them all come here and spend money before they interrogate me. Either way, I have nothing to say to any of them. I don't tell my friends' business, even if one of them has pissed me off so badly I never want to see her again and the other has me twisted in knots after one ill-conceived kiss.

  "Morning, gorgeous," Zora says, tying her apron around her narrow waist after she stows her purse in the office. "You got all the wedding decorations down already." She looks around, clearly surprised I've been so efficient while dealing with Raif's jilting.

  "I had some time yesterday." I say, as I take chairs down off the tables. She switches the jukebox on and starts from the far side of the room, doing the same.

  "How's Raif doing?" She asks, studiedly nonchalant as she works.

  I shoot her a withering glance. "He'll be fine."

  She sighs, then changes tactics. "I can't believe Pippa walked away from him." Clearly, she thinks if she abuses Pippa, I'll cave and give her gossip to spread. She'll never learn.

  "Move on, Zora. You know I'm not telling tales."

  "But, Chloe, you actually know what happened. C'mon, give me something. Was there someone else? I heard that she's been screwing Deputy Stover. Marjorie over at Munchies, she said she saw them out in his cruiser behind the station the other night." She pauses in her storytelling to watch my face as I continue taking the chairs down. I try to keep my face blank. There've been rumors that Pippa sleeps around for ages, but I've never engaged with anyone who told me tales. Pippa knew better than to let me find out if any of it was ever true.

  I know too well how it feels to be the subject of the stories being spread around town by the general public. It's one of the drawbacks to living in a small town, where everyone knows everyone else and thinks they know all there is to know about you. I won't be a part of tearing anyone else down.

  Taking down the last chair, I turn to face her head on. "Zora, remember all those other times I gossiped with you about other people's business?"

  Her full mouth tilts down. "That's cuz you're no fun, boss." She sighs, clearly disgusted with me. "Well, whatever—you tell Raif I'm here to comfort him anytime."

  My face flushes and my jaw clenches. "I'll be sure to pass that along," I manage dryly. I swallow and nod towards the back. "Can you turn the grill on for Odetta? She should be here any moment." Zora nods and scampers off to do as I asked, leaving me with my muddled thoughts.

  I don't want to think of Raif with anyone new. It was hard enough to watch him with Pippa. But I suppose it's inevitable that he'll find someone new and temporary. Rebound and all that. Is that what I would have been for him last night, I wonder? A rebound one-night stand with someone he could trust? The thought sends pain lancing through me. I wish I'd never kissed him. We could've laughed this off if I hadn't been so weak. But no, he'd been so close and solid and warm. Sexy as sin and safe as houses right there in front of me. I'd been able to see the lust in his eyes. And I'd fallen.

  Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

  I keep myself busy setting up and I hear, rather than see Odetta come in for her shift. She and Zora chat together happily in the kitchen. The two are opposites physically—Zora young and fit, carefree with skin the rich color of a mocha latte and curly dark hair that bounces all on its own. Odetta refuses to tell anyone her age, dyes her hair a bright flame red and is as pale as milk. Her eyes are sky blue and her thin mouth spends most of its time frowning. Her smiles are rare, but I think she's just generally disappointed by life. She's everyone's surrogate mother and has worked here since my granny died when I was twelve. I always thought she had a soft spot for my granddaddy, but nothing ever came of it. Probably because Merle Morris never got over the death of Delilah, his wife and only love.

  I flip the open sign on, listening to the neon hum and glance around to make sure we're ready for customers. We have our regulars who'll be in for lunch. This town is as predictable as they come. No one likes to mess around with the status quo. One more reason they'll be talking about Pippa and Raif for weeks to come. They all need to get a life in my opinion. But I don't rock the boat if I can help it. The town has enough fun talking about my mother, and I can feel the weight of their low expectations of me. Half of them are convinced I'll end up just like her.

  Hank Warner is our first customer of the day, just like every other day. He's been retired from the insurance business for two years now and he seems to be determined to keep himself in a routine, so he doesn't go senile from lack of things to do. More importantly, he is a sucker for Odetta's cooking and town gossip. Every day he lets Odetta pick what she feeds him. I'm about to head into the office to look at the books since Zora has things well in hand for the time being when the door opens again, and Lilly May Morris comes stumbling inside. Wonderful.

  My mother isn't supposed to come here, she's been banned since before I was born. She's only attempted to break this once before since my grandfather died, and that was at the gathering I held here after his funeral—which she did not attend. I don't have bouncers on staff until later in the day and I won't make Zora deal with this.

  My mother looks to be on the backend of a bender. She's wearing a ratty old black negligee, her feet balancing precariously on sandals with three-inch stiletto heels. Her dark hair is stringy and hanging limply around her face, a tangled mess. I can smell her from across the room—stale sweat, sex, booze, and cigarette smoke.

  She's looking around. What she's searching for I have no idea, but I really don't need this hassle today. I wait until I'm right in front of her to speak so as not to create a bigger scene.

  "You know you're not supposed to be here." I warn her, and finally her grey eyes fix on me. She looks haggard, dazed, like she's surprised to find me here.

  "This is my daddy's place, and I'll come here whenever I want." Her voice is loud, her words slurred.

  I grab onto her bony elbow and attempt to steer her back outside, keeping my voice low but firm. "No. It's not. It's mine. Merle died, Lilly. Remember? And even before that, he didn't allow you in here. Time to go."

  She gets louder, jerking her elbow out of my grasp and causing herself to stumble back a few steps and then fall unceremoniously to the floor. "I don't know who you think you are, but I have just as much right to this place as you do!" Her over mascaraed eyes bore into mine, as she tries to draw me into her game. I am not the one who enjoys making a public spectacle every time she leaves the house. I am not this person. I won't be. The town can tell their tales about someone else tonight.

  I step back from her, pulling my cell phone out of my apron. I dial the numbers quickly while my mother glares up at me from her undignified sprawl on the floor. When the phone is answered on the second ring, I say, "This is Chloe Morris over at the Saloon, can you send the sheriff over please? I have an intruder upsetting my customers."

  Then I turn, and keeping my head held high, I return to the office, leaving my mother to play out her drama alone.

  Chapter 4

  Raif

  I'm a fucking coward. I woke up on the pullout couch in Chloe's apartment with the mother of all hangovers. I've crashed there enough to not be disoriented while I blinked around blearily. My gaze caught on a framed photo of Chloe and me from the previous summer when she'd accompanied the band to an outdoor music festival. My arm is slung casually around her shoulders, her dark hair pulled back in a messy ponytail, her pretty face alight with laughter. She looks carefree—we both do. And I most likely ruined everything wanting things I know I don't deserve. I looked around the familiar space, the weight of what we might have done settling on my shoulders like a heavy cloak. My stomach rolled over in
abject terror at the thought of losing her friendship. And I bolted.

  I walk to my mother's house in the early morning light, avoiding the small house on Peach Street that Pippa and I had rented. I have no idea if she's there, or if just her belongings are taking up residence. I'm not ready to find out yet. The town is silent this early in the morning. Even with my stomach churning and my head pounding, I can’t help but appreciate the quiet beauty of the tree lined streets where I grew up.

  The walk from the Saloon is short. Four blocks from the town square, I turn onto Plum Street and jog up the steps to the fourth house on the left. I avoid looking at the rundown building to the right of it. The house where Chloe grew up. Lilly May hasn’t lived there in ages now. Not since Chloe left to live above the Saloon right after she turned eighteen. I can feel the memories lurking at the edges of my mind, there to remind me of what I might have lost last night. All due to my own stupidity.

  Mom isn't surprised when I let myself in. She's alone in the dining room, her light blue robe wrapped tight around her slim frame. "You look like hell," she greets me, and I shoot her a tired grin.

  "Love you, too, Ma. I guess being left at the altar doesn't agree with me."

  She nods at the empty chair across from her at the dining table. "Sit. I want to talk to you."

  I flop gracelessly into the too small chair and reach for a cup off the lazy susan in the middle of the table. The stainless-steel urn perched in the center of the console scents the room with strong coffee and I pour myself a cup, inhaling the fumes reverently. Today will most likely require a lot of coffee if I'm going to make it through rehearsal this afternoon. I take a gulp of the scalding liquid and then finally meet my mother's worried blue eyes. "I'm fine," I say, before she can start.

  She sighs at me. "Oh, don’t bother lying. There's no shame in being upset she did this, Raif."

  I hold her eyes for a beat and shrug halfheartedly. "I don't know who I'm angrier with, really." I confide. "I was almost relieved when she stalked off. I don’t think I loved her the way I should've to marry her. And if that’s the case, what kind of man does that make me?" I stare into the swirling darkness in my coffee cup. I feel my mom's smaller hand come around mine and she squeezes gently.

  "Doesn't mean it doesn't hurt that she dragged your heart and your reputation through the mud in this town for the last decade. I've known for a while you didn't love her like you should, but I wasn't going to tell you what to do."

  I feel heat in my cheeks, but I don't dispute the facts. She's right. Word around town is that Pippa has been sleeping around for years. I try to ignore the gossips, but I couldn't help but believe them. Still, every time she came back to me after we'd split up, I ignored the voice in my head that told me to cut her loose and start over with someone new. She was what I knew. She was what I felt I deserved. Really, this is all my fault when it comes right down to it. I was using her as surely as she was me.

  I look up to meet my mom's eyes. "I'll be okay, Mom. You don't have to worry."

  She doesn't sound convinced of that. "I know you, son. And I love you, but for some reason, you keep letting her come back and do this to you over and over again. So, I'm telling you now that you need to man up and cut her out of your life. Don’t let her back in. Especially if you don't love her, Raif." Her voice is as serious as I've ever heard it. I open my mouth to reply, but she continues. "You deserve to be happy, Raif." I hear the sadness and worry for me in her voice. "I know things that happened with your father left their mark." She winces at her choice of words. I nod to let her know I heard her, unable to speak for the moment.

  That part of me that remembers the dark days before my mother divorced the sonofabitch who fathered my sister and me tries to lock the memories down before they can rear up and nut punch me. It never works, though. I was six the first time I saw my father beat my mother. She'd burned dinner because she was busy trying to feed Daisy, who was only six months old at the time. I watched in horrified silence as my father grabbed my mother by the hair and slammed her head off the kitchen wall then proceeded to try and force feed her the scorched mashed potatoes she'd served at dinner.

  I intervened, not thinking about the fact that my father was bigger, drunk and obviously angry. I didn't think it through, I just launched my small, bony body against his legs and tried my best to get him off my mother. For my trouble, my father kicked me across the room, making my mother scream around the food he kept shoving in her mouth. I tried again, even though I was hurt, limping across the room to pummel him with my ineffectual fists. He hit me across the face that time, knocking me back to the floor on my back, the room going fuzzy when my head cracked hard against the hardwood floor.

  My mother says my name, squeezing my hand hard to bring me out of the memories. It certainly wasn't the last time it happened. She didn't divorce him until he put me in the hospital when I was ten.

  Luke finds me behind the house an hour before we're due at Bran's family's farm for rehearsal. I'm coated in sweat from pulling weeds. Mom said it's therapeutic, but I think she just wanted me out from underfoot. I have trouble sitting still when something's on my mind.

  "Well, this looks like fun." Luke says by way of greeting. I look back at him, wiping my forehead across my arm to get some of the sweat out of my eyes.

  "Yeah. Just trying to help Mom." I tell him, turning back to my task.

  "You lose your phone?" Luke asks, settling down next to me to help. There's an edge to his normally amiable tone, something sharp like I've pissed him off. Which is insane because Luke doesn't get pissed off. He's the most even-tempered person I know.

  I glance over at him to find his face impassive as he pulls out weeds from the bed of geraniums. "No, it was dead when I got home earlier. Charger's at the new place and I'm not going there."

  Luke's shoulders relax a little. "Ah, yes. Well, don't worry. Word is Pippa's been shipped out west to visit her grandmother. And Chloe called her parents earlier and they got all her stuff out of your place. So, it's safe."

  I drop my head, feeling ashamed that once again my best friend is taking care of me. "She didn't have to do that." I mutter.

  Luke snorts. "She doesn't have to do half the shit she does for us. But you can't stop her." He sighs. "If you want to thank her, you could use my phone and call her, she's worried about you. Says you left without saying goodbye."

  "Fuck." I mutter. "I didn't mean to worry her. I'll call her after rehearsal."

  Luke's silent for a moment, beheading a few geraniums as he tugs up the weeds. When he speaks next, his voice has that sharp edge again. "Did something happen last night? She seemed upset..."

  I study my portion of the geraniums like they hold the secrets to the universe, working to keep my face blank. "No, I don't think so. I was drunk, she took care of me. I just woke up in a snit and took off." I shrug, trying to pass off a nonchalance I don't feel. "I'll talk to her after."

  Luke makes a noncommittal sound in his throat. "Well, alright then." He beheads a few more geraniums and asks, "How are you doing with everything?" His voice is softer now. More gentle than usual and I groan in response.

  "Brother, I know you mean well, I do. Honestly, though, I don't want to talk about it. I'm not heartbroken over Pippa leaving. And that makes me a pretty disgusting person, so...I'll keep you posted if anything changes. But for right now, I just want to pull some weeds and then go play some music for a while. Get ready for our set at the Saloon tomorrow night."

  Luke holds my eyes for a beat and then nods. "Alright then, brother. Whatever you say."

  Chapter 5

  Chloe

  Saturdays are always hectic at the saloon, our busiest day of the week. I should be occupied enough to not dwell on the fact that it’s been almost two whole days since I last saw Raif. But I’m not. The fact that he didn’t call me, merely sent me a short text message the previous evening letting me know he was okay does not help my peace of mind. Normally, he’d call. Raif loathes texting,
he thinks it’s impersonal and borderline rude. I’ve been in a barely concealed panic since the message came in last night. It’s pathetic, really.

  I force myself to focus on the crowd where I’m stationed at the bar and not on my disintegrating relationship with my best friend. Or I try to, at least. I’m not very successful, my body might be busy, but my mind whirs with disturbing thoughts and worst-case scenarios. What if we’re awkward forever now, and we don’t ever get past this whole debacle? What will I do without him? Raif has been my closest friend my entire life, I don’t know who I am without him in my life. I don’t want to find out.

  I’m mixing up a pitcher of margaritas for a table of loud college-aged girls who are home for the summer when I see the boys of Renegades come in the back door. I try to keep my attention on the task in front of me. I don’t want to make the drinks too strong. But I know Raif is back there, most likely ignoring my existence for the very first time in our lives. I keep my eyes on the liquor I’m adding, my ears perked for the sound of a familiar deep voice coming to say hello. That would be normal. He doesn’t come over, though. I send Zora over to the table with the girls’ order and move on to the next customer, my heart aching in my chest.

  I fill all the orders, listening as the guys set up, until I have nothing left to do. More unsettled than ever, I seek refuge in the office. I need to get it together before someone notices that I’m unraveling. I sit down behind the desk and let my head fall into my hands. Woman up, Chloe, I chide myself silently, you have to go back out there and pretend that everything’s fine. During my lukewarm pep talk, there’s a quiet rap on the office door. Raif! my heart squeals, trying to beat its way out of my chest.