Faith by Fire (Prodigal Brothers MC Book 1)

by Rose Macwaters

  She hesitated, looking uncertain, then nodded. “Okay.”

  He watched her turn back to face the deputy, clutching her arms again. He wanted to hold her. Kiss her hair, tell her everything was going to be okay, that he would take care of her forever. But he didn't get to do any of that. Not now, maybe never. She wasn't his to hold. That hug would have to be enough.

  Logan strode up to the main desk and waited for the deputy on duty to get off the phone. “Hey, I wanted to see if the sheriff is here. Or if there's a way I could talk to him.”

  “Who are you?” This deputy wasn't as openly hostile as the one talking to Charlie, but she still didn't seem to think Logan was anybody she should cooperate with. Whatever.

  “My name is Logan Matthews. I came in a few weeks ago after witnessing an altercation involving Charlotte Woodland. I have additional information about what happened tonight and how it connects to that case, but I'd like to speak to the sheriff about it, if that's possible.”

  “We don't make a habit of calling the sheriff after hours unless it's an emergency. Is this an emergency?”

  Logan hesitated. It felt like an emergency. It felt like life or death. But the van was gone, and Charlie was here, safe and sound.

  “No. No, it's not, but could I leave a message? To let him know I'd like to set up a time to talk.”

  The deputy held up a finger to stop him as the phone rang, and she answered it. “Sure. Yes, sir. Yes, that's right. She's here now. All right. Yes. There's a man here with her who says his name is Logan Matthews. Yes, sir. I'll put him on.”

  The deputy handed him the phone, then set the base up onto the counter to give him a little bit more lead. Logan walked as far away as the cord would allow and turned his back, giving himself as much privacy as he could.

  “Sheriff,” he said. “Thank you for speaking with me.”

  “Now, son—I thought I made myself clear last time that I wanted you to stay out of trouble. Keep your nose clean. This didn't sound so clean to me.”

  Logan bit back a frustrated growl. “No, sir. But I think I can explain myself in a way that will make sense to you. At least I hope so.”

  “Go on then, son.”

  “Doc came in and talked to you a few weeks ago, right after Charlotte was attacked outside the grocery store, right?”

  “Yes. Yes, he did. Good man, that Doc. He told me about some suspected gang activity, and I've been looking into it. So far, it checks out about the decreasing numbers up in Monroe, but nobody else in the county has reported any increased activity in our area.”

  Logan nodded. It made sense. They'd be laying low until they could establish themselves, infiltrate, build connections, monetary protections. They had a system, and he knew it better than he wished he did.

  “That sounds about right.”

  “Sure. Tell me, you got any evidence that what happened to Miss Charlotte is connected to this biker gang of yours? Other than that young man wearing a nicer leather vest than you think he should have?”

  “No sir, I guess not.”

  “Are you connected to them somehow? Did you bring this upon our town?”

  “Yes and no.” Logan was reluctant to admit it, especially in this context, but he was willing to do or say anything to keep Charlie safe, regardless of what it might mean for him. He still owed as much penance as he could pay, God’s grace aside. “They tried to recruit me while I was in prison. They got a whole lot of hate for a whole lot of people, and I wasn't any more into that then than I am now. So I said no.”

  “And how’d they take that?”

  “Not very kindly,” Logan said. “Not very kindly at all. But see, I don't have any family.”

  “Sure.”

  “They had no leverage. They had no way to hurt me and, well, any attempts they made inside, I was able to handle.” Logan thought about the scar on his right hip where a makeshift knife had chipped the bone, breaking off the tip of the sharpened plastic spoon. The memory was worse than the physical damage. He was fine. Couple inches higher, and he wouldn't have been. He knew that. “But I figure maybe they got longer memories. Maybe they haven't forgotten.”

  “Are you saying you think Miss Charlotte was attacked because of a grudge against you?”

  Logan rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand. “Not initially, not outside the grocery store. I think that was just initiation, you know—steal a purse, run away. That sort of thing.”

  “But then,” Logan heard the sheriff sigh, “But then you stepped in.”

  “I did.”

  “And now you’re worried they think she's your old lady, that she's important to you somehow.”

  “That is my fear, sir, yes. This is the second time a black van has been seen trailing her. First time it almost hit her in the library parking lot. This time it seemed to be following her home. Sheriff, is there any way you can put a deputy on patrol near her house full time? You know, something—anything to keep her safer than she is right now?”

  The sheriff was silent for several moments. Logan focus on breathing in and out slowly. After what felt like an eternity, the sheriff answered him. “Well, son. I have to admit I don't care one bit for how neatly those pieces fit together, or how much sense your concerns make. I'm going to step up patrols in her neighborhood, put everybody on high alert for this van and for any new motorcycles in town. I will encourage Miss Charlotte to continue to let us be there when she goes to work and when she leaves work. For a little while, at least. The times she's more vulnerable. We'll start there and see what else needs to happen.”

  “Thank you, Sheriff.”

  “Logan, I appreciate your concern for our Charlotte, and I'm sure her folks do, too. But she is a fine young woman from a good Christian family. And while I appreciate that Doc vouches for you and it sounds like you're doing some good work with the Brothers, Miss Charlotte is not a young woman to be trifled with, you understand me? Tread lightly.”

  “I understand, sir.”

  Logan walked back over to the deputy and handed over the handset, thanked her. By the time he returned to Charlie, she had finished her statement and was waiting for him.

  “Hey,” he said. “Somebody's going to take you home.”

  She shook her head, that same lopsided smile reappearing. “I can drive myself. I’m a little shaken up, but I'm not hurt. I'll be all right. I thought maybe,” she hesitated, her eyes wide, honest. “I thought maybe you might follow me home? Just make sure I get there okay—watch my back for any black vans.”

  Logan returned her smile. How could he not? “Gladly. Though I suspect we'll have a deputy escort as well.”

  She nodded, a slight twinkle in her eye. She was thinking something she wasn't saying, and Logan would give far more than a penny for those thoughts.

  Far more.

  Chapter 13

  The rumble of Logan’s motorcycle soothed Charlie’s frazzled nerves as she drove slowly home. The police cruiser ahead of her turned onto her street, and Charlie followed close behind him. Logically, she knew the presence of the Sheriff’s deputies should make her feel safer, but her heart disagreed. Her heart only calmed at the thought of Logan staying close. She forced herself to take a deep breath. When had she become so ready to let him in? To allow herself to trust, even just a little bit? She’d hugged him.

  Gravel crunched under her tires as she pulled into the narrow side driveway that curved around behind her parents’ house. She had moved into the carriage house two weeks after Greg’s death. Walking up the same steps where she’d last seen him, last felt him kiss her cheek, had been too much. No ghosts of fiancés lost haunted these front steps.

  Logan eased his motorcycle to a stop beside her car and sat waiting for her to get out. Charlie’s hands shook as she turned off the car and gathered her things, but it wasn’t fear that had her trembling this time. Or at least not the same kind of fear.

  By the time she got out of her car, Deputy Frank stood a few feet away, leaning against the
side of his cruiser. His expression was serious, but he winked when he caught her eye. Charlie summoned a smile in return. She’d known Frank Jones since third grade, and she’d served as a bridesmaid when he married her friend Ashley five years earlier. She trusted him like a brother.

  “Well, Charlie-horse, you just can’t stay out of trouble, can you?”

  Her smile widened. “You haven’t called me that in years.”

  “You haven’t been such a pain in my rear end for years, either.”

  Charlie chuckled and punched his shoulder lightly. “Whatever, Frankenstein. Thanks for the police escort.”

  “Of course. Dave is going to stick close tonight, barring any major calls, okay? You need anything, he’ll be there. I’ll be more over in the downtown area, but I can get here in two minutes if I need to.”

  “Got it. I’m sure I’ll be fine but thank you.”

  He looked toward the main house. “Your folks home?”

  She shook her head. “No, they’re down in Florida for their anniversary. They’ll be back on Saturday night.”

  “I’ll make sure the boys know. Just in case.”

  She nodded, the cold terror she’d felt when she heard the van doors opening behind her slithered back down her spine. They needed to know if her folks were home in case they saw anyone in or around the house. She rubbed her hands up and down her arms, suddenly cold even in the humid summer night.

  “You going back on day shift before that baby gets here?”

  A proud grin warmed Frank’s face. “Next week.”

  “Excited?”

  “About being back on days? Nah. Too much traffic duty, but that baby? Hoo boy, I sure am.” He glanced over at Logan. “You want me to send him on his way?”

  She shook her head. “No, I asked him to come. I want to talk to him, thank him for helping me again.”

  Frank’s eyes narrowed. “You know he’s got a pretty rough past, right? I mean, all signs point to reformed—Doc vouches for him pretty hard, and he’s managed to keep his nose clean for the last couple of years—but I figure you should still be aware. That guy ain’t rainbows and kittens, Charlie.”

  Frank’s fraternal concern was sweet. Unnecessary, but sweet. “I know. He’s been really straight with me about all of it. And besides, we’re just friends. Barely that. But he has come to my rescue more than once in the last few weeks. I owe him my thanks.”

  Frank gave a curt nod, then waved at Logan, who still sat on his bike, helmet in one hand. “Night, Logan. You see that Miss Charlotte here gets inside and locked up tight before you head out?”

  “I will.”

  Frank hesitated, then gave Charlie a quick hug. “That’s from Ash. She said to tell you to come sleep over at our house if you want to. No need to call ahead, just show up.”

  “I’ll text her once I get inside. Thanks again, Frank.”

  As he headed back around to the driver’s side, Charlie squared her shoulders and turned back to face Logan. She felt a deep need to say…something. But what exactly?

  Charlotte took a deep breath as she approached him. The evening breeze cooled the humid air and swept across the back of her neck, making her shiver. What was she going to say? What did she need to say?

  Logan sat on his bike, helmet in his hands, waiting patiently. When she got closer, he glanced up at her with a grin that stole what breath she had left.

  “We have to stop meeting like this,” he said.

  “I don't know how to say thank you,” she said. “I don't think I've ever owed someone so much in such a short amount of time before. I swear I'm not usually such a damsel in distress.”

  He shook his head and looked away from her, then back again. His eyes—when she met them—were serious. “I don't see a damsel when I look at you.” He paused. Grinned again. “Distressed, maybe.” He chuckled, then hung his helmet by strap, letting it dangle from one of the hand grips. “I’m glad I've been able to help, but that doesn't mean I think you're helpless.”

  “No?”

  “No. I think you're maybe one of the least helpless people I've ever known. I can’t pretend to know what's come before,” he paused to clear his throat. “But whatever it is, you've obviously come out stronger for it.”

  Tears welled up in her eyes, and she turned away slightly to brush them from her cheeks. She’d gone so long without crying in front of people, yet it seemed impossible to keep the tears in check around Logan.

  “His name was Greg,” she said after a moment. She walked over to lean on her car. “We were engaged.” She pulled the engagement ring on its fine silver chain out from under her shirt and showed it to him. The modest diamond twinkled in the moonlight.

  “What happened?”

  “He died.” Charlie realized that she hadn't really had to say those words very often over the past several years. Willow Bough was a small town. Everyone knew her parents. Most of them knew her. The story of Greg's death had rocked the entire city. Everyone knew within hours of her family receiving the call, so there'd been no one to tell. She took a steadying breath.

  “He was on a mission trip to Memphis. They were renovating houses in bad neighborhoods, planning to move people in, sort of save it from the inside, I guess.” She bit her lip. “But the neighborhoods were worse than they expected. I don't know all the details. It—it’s all a blur, really. People said something about gangs and turf wars, things I don't exactly know a lot about.”

  Logan just nodded, listening, his eye searching her face. “How long ago?”

  “Three years. Feels longer, sometimes. I miss him, of course, but sometimes I feel like the loss—the pain of it—is more real to me than his memory.” Tears filled her eyes again, and she brushed them away with the back of her hand. “You must think I'm awful saying that.”

  “I could never think you're awful.” His tone left no room for doubt.

  “You're kinder to me than I deserve.”

  “Nah. But that is how grace works.” Logan cleared his throat again and looked down at his hands. “That's one of the hardest things about it. You can't earn it. You can't deserve it. You can't even refuse it.”

  Charlie swallowed, fighting back the sobs that suddenly threatened to overtake her. Talking about Greg was one thing, but talking about grace? Faith? That was another big loss in her life, and it still hurt every day.

  “I’m not a man of any great wisdom,” Logan said. “I know there's nothing I could say that good folks like your parents, people in the church, they haven't already said. But grace is always there, Charlie. Even when we can't bear it.”

  An old anger flared up inside her then, as she remembered how she'd felt crumpled on the floor of the preschool office. Every breath a conscious effort. “I don't want anything from Him,” she said, surprised at the hard edge in her own voice. “Ever again. I gave him everything I had, and He still took Greg from me. He didn't have to, okay? But He did. You can't know what that's like.”

  “No.” His face was in shadow, making his dark eyes unreadable. “But I do know what it's like to take someone away from his family and still be forgiven.”

  When she didn’t respond, Logan continued, his deep voice carrying on the night air. “I think it's best if we don't see each other for a little while. It’s just not…safe.” Logan picked up his helmet again.

  He didn't put it on, but he was preparing to leave. She could tell. Her rage against God faded, and she was hurt again, scared. Something about Logan just made everything inside her feel raw and vulnerable. It was like he stripped her defenses, and as much as she wanted to believe that meant she could be safe, that everything would be okay… believing that would be trusting in a God she'd determined never to trust again. Not ever. Logan had shown her what it could feel like if she let that go. She wasn't ready. And he was going to leave. They always left.

  She brushed her eyes again. “Whatever you say. Again, I'm not a damsel in distress that you have to watch out for. I have people like Frank who watch my back. Tha
nks for what you've done, but yeah. I think maybe you're right. I think maybe this is a bad idea for both of us right now.”

  Logan nodded, then kept his head bowed. She was partway up the steps to her apartment when his words reached her ear, barely above a whisper.

  “I’ll be praying for you, Charlie.”

  A wave of emotion hit her then, and she didn't dare look closely enough to figure out what it was.

  Chapter 14

  Logan sat quietly on his bike. Thinking, praying, waiting to be sure Charlie got settled in okay. Had he overstepped? Had he said too much, pushed too hard about grace? But what else could he say. She’d praised his kindness, but that wasn't something he could take credit for. All he had to give was what he had already received over and over again. She'd been opening up, sharing her pain, and he'd still managed to make her clam up again. Maybe for good this time.

  The last of the lights in her carriage house apartment clicked off, and Logan strapped on his helmet. It was hard to leave, knowing she was nearby and upset.

  Keep her safe, Father, please. He kept thinking about what she’d said about Greg. When he’d imagined what her past pain had been, a murdered fiancé had never crossed his mind. The thought of her loving someone else made his chest ache, but he knew that wasn’t fair. Logan rested his hands on his thighs, palms up, fingers relaxed.

  I come before you with open hands, he prayed. She's your child, Lord, to do with as You will, but I ask your hand of protection on her. Let her know the kind of safety and security that only comes from You. From Your love, Your Grace. And Your power. I'm just a man, but I ask that if I can be of service, let me help her in any way you see fit. I offer up my feelings for her. He paused and swallowed hard. Whatever they are…or could be. I surrender them to You.

  He glanced up at her dark windows, and feelings of longing ripped through him. He didn't have the words, but he trusted what Doc had told him, that when he didn't have the words, the Spirit would intercede on his behalf. He bowed his head and let the feelings come, married though they were to the shame he still fought about his past, his struggles daily to accept the grace he knew he didn't deserve. He didn't deserve a life with her, either. Yet his heart—his heart wasn't listening to that logic. Logan released the brake and let his bike roll down the driveway and away from the house before turning the key and feeling the engine rumble to life beneath him.