“Oh, I see.” Charlie felt her cheeks flush. “I guess I just assumed you all worked there.”
“No reason why you wouldn't, love. A lot of the fellows do. Just not me. I'm Liam, by the way. And you're Charlotte?”
“Charlie,” she said and accepted his extended hand. “Your nephew is named after you?”
Liam winked at her. “That's the official line. And I'd like to believe it, but if you'd seen the number of Prince William posters my sister had on her bedroom walls growing up, you'd have serious doubts about that, too.” He chuckled, and Charlie found herself returning his grin. He and Logan were part of the same ministry, but they didn’t work together. Were they friends?
Liam stood beside her and turned to face the kids while they talked. “Logan tells me you’ve continued to have a bit of trouble with some thugs.”
They’d talked about her. Charlie tried not to be too terribly happy about that. But she was.
“Maybe? If it all wasn't just one big coincidence, just too big to be believable really, I'd say no. But it's weird. This is Willow Bough. We don't have unmarked vans that try to kidnap people, or follow them, or run them over in a library parking lot.”
“That sounds awful. But Logan says the Sheriff's Department is keeping an eye on you.”
“Yes. I've known the sheriff since I was a little girl. And one of the deputies, Frank, is married to one of my oldest friends. They're doing everything they can.”
“Well, I'm sure it'll be enough, but uh,” Liam paused to scratch his jaw. “But you should know the Brothers have their eyes out for you, too. We're not all of us as capable as the deputies of course, but a few of us, well, we're doing what we can.”
Charlie wasn't exactly sure what that meant, but she was sure he meant it kindly. “Thank you. Logan and Doc and everyone have been so kind.”
Liam grinned at her. “We've all been given a lot,” he said. “We're always glad for opportunities to pay it forward. Simple as that. Now what do I have to do to take that rascal of a nephew of mine off your hands?”
“He's really been delightful today. I've never known a kid who talks like he does. Have his parents been reading him the dictionary or something?”
Liam laughed. “No, but I think his picture can be found in the dictionary next to the term precocious. Don't let him fool you, though—he's just as mischievous as he is smart. And charming to boot. I like to say he gets it from me.”
“I look forward to getting to know him better. And to take him home, all you need to do is go into the main office and sign him out. Since you live here in town, I'm sure your sister and brother-in-law put your name on the pick-up list. But if not, the office will sort it out for you. Once you've done that, you can just come back out here, and I'll hand him over.”
“Sounds perfect. Thank you. I'll be back in a minute.”
Charlie kept her eyes on her students as Liam turned on his heel and headed back around the building. He was a nice guy. And he’d been talking to Logan about her. And the Prodigal Brothers were watching out for her. And Logan was praying for her. Feelings? So many. Too many.
Too many.
Chapter 16
Logan eased his bike to a stop and let his heels rest against the ground. This was the area where Liam lost sight of the van that had been trolling around Charlie’s neighborhood. He had no way to be certain whether it was the same vehicle that had almost run her down in the library parking lot or the one that had followed her from the restaurant. She’d said she heard the sliding door open and then slam shut. Had they been planning to abduct her? The thought made Logan’s jaw clench in a tense combination of fear and rage. He couldn’t let that happen.
Lord, please don’t let that happen.
Logan removed his helmet and ran a hand through his hair. He’d need a haircut soon. Maybe he could get Henry to do it. The dude was always saying how an hour in his barber’s chair would change Logan’s life. Not that he really wanted his life changed. Just his hair. Maybe.
The neighborhood was largely abandoned at this time of day. The sun was barely up, so none of the downtown businesses were open yet, aside from the small coffee shop on the corner that offered drive-through service starting at four-thirty every morning. A moderate line eased lazily along as his fellow caffeine junkies got their first hit of the day. It was too far away for him to catch a whiff of their wares, but he took a deep breath anyway. Later. He’d stop for coffee later. Right now, he needed to figure out if this was where that van got off to, and maybe even who it belonged to. If they had a beef with him, he’d rather face it head-on, today, than leave Charlie vulnerable for one minute longer than necessary.
The houses on the edge of downtown were just this side of shabby, a part of the town’s renewal efforts that hadn’t been completed yet. They were protected, historic, but not yet restored. All that was fancy talk for old and worn. A couple of the roofs looked ready to collapse, and several of the homes featured ramshackle outbuildings that probably used to be detached garages or even guest houses. Probably would be again, once the renewal board got their hands on them. Logan sighed. He really should have had some coffee first.
He left his bike at the curb in front of an old factory building that now housed lawyers’ offices, a candy shop, and two massage therapists, among other things. He glanced at his watch. He probably had two hours before the businesses opened and people got possessive of their parking spots. After setting his helmet on the seat and storing his gloves in the side bags, Logan set off on foot, the paper with the address from Liam in his hand.
The further he got from the business district, the worse the houses looked. Soon shabby was an understatement, and every other house looked either burned out or half collapsed. People talked a lot about how beautiful Willow Bough was, how pristine and untouched by the uglier side of life, but those people were either lying, willfully blind, or both. Willow Bough was no crime hot spot, but it definitely had its share of the dark and dirty. Poverty, drugs, prostitution - the Prodigal Brothers fought hard to pull people up out of those pits every day. The churches helped—of course they did—but the problem was far from solved. Here or anywhere.
A toddler wearing only a dirty t-shirt over his diaper came waddling up, waving and sporting a toothless grin. Logan scanned the porches on both sides of the street, looking for the kid’s keeper. He finally spotted the tiny old woman, probably the grandmother or even great-grandmother, rocking slowly on a sagging porch two doors down. He raised his hand in greeting, then gently shooed the kid back in her direction.
“Go on now,” he said. “Back to...granny.” It was a shot in the dark, but the toddler kept the drooly grin and headed toward the old woman. Logan waited to make sure he made it most of the way back to the porch, then crossed the street to walk up the opposite side. The last thing he wanted to do was draw the kid into the street, so he kept glancing back over his shoulder to make sure his new friend wasn’t trying to follow him.
The first punch sent Logan back onto his heels, but he managed to stay on his feet. He swiped his wrist over his bleeding mouth and looked up just in time for the second punch to make the world go black for a few seconds. He blinked and managed to make out the masked faces of his attackers—two sets of bright blue eyes stared back at him from matching ratty balaclavas—before another fist rammed into his stomach and drove him to his knees.
Logan wasn’t sure what to do. In his old life, he would have beaten both within an inch of their lives and relished every last violent second of it. But he wasn’t that man anymore. That man had killed an innocent. That man died in prison and was born again. Logan held up a hand, signaling them to stop.
“I’m not here to fight you,” he managed through clenched teeth. He spit out the blood from his split lip. “I don’t even know who you are. I’m just walking down the street, man.”
The next strike split open the skin along his cheekbone, and he saw stars. Logan took a slow breath. He wasn’t the man who would beat them
for sport. But that didn’t mean he had to let them do it to him. He heard the sound of the gun being drawn before he saw the barrel pointed at his face.
Instinct took over in that moment, and Logan grabbed the gun with one hand and wrapped one large hand around the attacker’s throat with the other. He pushed the gun up and away, wincing as several rounds were fired into the air. He really hoped that old woman had taken the kid inside. He tightened his grip on the guy’s throat and lunged forward, driving his head into the gunman’s nose. The smaller man dropped the gun to claw at his face with both hands, screaming profanities that would make a sailor blush. Broken nose. Logan would put money on it. If he were still a betting man.
Logan kicked the gun away and turned to face the other masked man. He was met with another gun, a rifle this time, the deadly barrel aimed at his chest. Zero chance of him missing from that distance, even if he closed both eyes and shot blind. Logan raised both hands in surrender as the injured man recovered his composure and scrambled to retrieve his gun.
“DROP YOUR WEAPONS AND GET ON THE GROUND. GET ON THE GROUND!”
Deputy Frank Jones stepped up beside Logan and pointed his weapon at the guy wielding the rifle. The other attacker gave up on recovering his gun and took off between the houses. Logan twitched, ready to chase him down.
“Stay here, Logan.” Frank grabbed the radio clipped to his uniform. “This is Frank Jones. I need backup and an ambulance at 3124 Magnolia Street. I got one suspect locked down and another on foot fleeing the area. Last seen heading west on Old Bay toward West Ninth Street. Considered armed and dangerous.”
Frank pressed one knee into the rifle guy’s back as he forced his wrists into handcuffs, then stood. He pulled the guy to his feet and walked him over to his squad car. Once the perp was stowed in the back seat, Frank removed the mask and dropped it into an evidence bag. Logan squinted at the guy’s face, hoping to recognize him, but no dice.
“What are you doing here, Logan?”
“Trying not to get killed. Mostly failing until you showed up.”
“I could see that much. But what are you doing in this area? It ain’t exactly Mr. Rogers’ Neighborhood out here.”
“I noticed.” Logan hesitated. Charlie trusted Frank, but he was a cop, and Logan didn’t have the greatest of histories with cops. “I was...looking for something.”
Frank kicked a piece of loose asphalt and watched it bounce down the empty street. His radio started squawking as the other deputies closed in on the second attacker. Sirens sounded nearby. Backup would be here any minute. He covered his radio with hand to lessen the noise.
“The van, right? The one you think is tailing Charlotte?”
Logan remained quiet.
“Listen, I get that you care about her. But you got a record. You can’t go around the law like this. Let us do our job. We care about her—I care about her—we will catch whoever’s behind this and shut it down.”
Logan nodded. He knew they would try. But he also knew this might be way bigger than anything these local guys had ever seen or dealt with. And they might not figure that out until it was too late. That wasn’t a risk he felt comfortable making. Not with Charlie’s life hanging in the balance.
“You know these guys? Seen them before?” Logan asked the question as the first officers arrived on the scene, followed immediately by an ambulance.
Frank shook his head. “No. And that’s unusual, so we’ll run ‘em through all the databases, see what comes up. If they’ve got connections to something more sinister than local crime, we’ll find out about it.”
“You see a lot of broad daylight attempted murders around here?”
Frank shook his head again, his eyes serious. “No. We don’t. I figure you’re probably on to something, though I ain’t real eager to admit it, mind. But I’ve known Charlie my whole life, and she’s in danger. Trust me when I tell ya I won’t let my own pride get in the way of keeping her safe. Not now, not ever.” He waved the paramedics over. “Let them get you patched up, then hitch a ride to the station. I have more questions, and I’m sure the Sheriff will, too.”
“Fine. But Frank?”
The deputy turned back. “Yeah?”
“How’d you find me?”
Frank grinned and scratched his cheek where the night’s stubble lay rough on his skin. “Shift change. I was headed back to the station when I saw your bike. Charlie had asked me to keep an eye out, so.” He shrugged. “Figured you’d either be in trouble or making some. Either way, I’d be keeping my word.”
“Well, thanks. I owe you one.”
Logan let the paramedics lead him back to the ambulance and sat on the rear bumper as they treated his wounds. His lip was mostly scabbed over, but the split on his cheekbone bled freely, the blood running down his face and neck to drench the collar of his t-shirt.
He really should have had coffee first.
Chapter 17
“Okay, Charlotte. Spill.”
Sam leaned her elbows on the counter at Angel Food and gave Charlie a friendly glare. “It’s been like a year since whatever happened with Logan happened, and you still haven’t told me about it. Things seemed good, you were doing better, so what gives?”
Charlie swiveled on her stool. The smell of sugary frosting and buttery cupcakes filled the air. The inside of Angel Food Cupcakery was like a wonderland of beautiful edibles, and it had quickly become one of Charlie’s favorite places to hide from...everything. Except when her friend wouldn’t stop asking about the one guy she kind of didn’t but absolutely did want to talk about.
“First of all, you haven’t called me ‘Charlotte’ in like, ever.”
“Desperate times call for full names, Charlotte.”
“Right. Second of all, it’s been a week, not a year, and I don’t know what you want me to say. It’s over, I guess.”
Samantha frowned and leaned closer. “Over? How the french toast is it over? You two meet, he saves your life, saves your life again, takes you for coffee, rides to your rescue a third time, and now it’s just...over? No, ma’am. What gives?”
Charlie closed her eyes for a second before answering. “I...don’t know, okay? After the last time, when he met me at the Sheriff’s Department and then followed me home, things got weird.” She fiddled with the empty cupcake liner on her plate.
Sam’s eyes narrowed but she put another cupcake on Charlie’s plate. “Weird, how?”
Charlie shrugged.
“Charlotte Grace!”
“Okay, okay, okay. Geez.” Charlie swiped her finger through the bright pink frosting and licked it clean before continuing. “Frank was there, too, as you know, but after he left, Logan stayed for a few minutes and we talked about...stuff.”
“Stuff?”
“Greg.”
Samantha nodded slowly. “That’s heavy.”
“Right? It was heavy, and I found myself telling him stuff that I hadn’t really admitted to myself before, much less anybody else.”
“So you trusted him.”
“I did. I told him how hard it’s been and how conflicted I feel about moving forward without Greg. That I feel guilty that I’m not as sad anymore. That I’m starting to see a future for myself—a happy future—without Greg in it. For a long time I couldn’t do that, you know?”
“Oh, honey. I do know. How did he respond? Was he a jerk? Because if he was a jerk, I will absolutely cause that man some physical harm.”
Charlie laughed in spite of her heavy heart. “No need for physical harm. He wasn’t a jerk. He was actually really great about it. Really kind. But then…”
Samantha waited quietly this time, and Charlie let the silence sit between them for a few moments before finishing her thought.
“But then he started talking about God and grace and I got so angry, Sam. He was being sincere and generous and offering me something that comforts him, and I just...threw it in his face. I was caught completely off guard by my own feelings, and I said some harsh things about
God, about faith. I basically said, ‘never again.’”
“Is that you really feel? Never again?”
“About God?”
“Yeah.”
“A few weeks ago, I would’ve said yes. I’ve gotten pretty comfortable blaming Him for everything that hurts. But lately, I don’t know. I find myself wishing, sort of longing, for that peace I used to have. The belief that no matter how awful things get or how impossible circumstances may seem, that it’ll never be too much and I’ll never face it alone.” Tears welled in her eyes and she brushed them away with her fingers. “I really miss sitting in church with my mom. I miss seeing my students there, their happy little faces as they come up to hug me, so excited to see me outside of work.” She chuckled softly, wiped away more tears. “I think I really want to be that girl again, Sam. But I’ve said some awful things. About God. To God. And now to Logan.”
“Maybe it wasn’t as bad as you think,” Sam said, trying to offer Charlie a little hope. “To Logan, I mean.”
“No, it was bad. He looked so sad. Not angry or defensive or even disappointed. Just sad for me. And then he said we shouldn’t see each other for a while, so I guess he doesn’t like me anymore.”
Samantha came around the counter to wrap her arms around Charlie, who leaned into her friend’s embrace as her own shoulders shook with sobs.
“I had let myself hope, you know? And now I’ve ruined it. I feel like I’ve ruined everything.”
Sam leaned her cheek against Charlie’s head. “No way, babe. You’re not that powerful. I promise. But definitely maybe let’s not try to tackle everything at once.”
Charlie leaned back to look at her friend’s face. “What do you mean?”
“Maaaaybe,” Sam said as she handed Charlie a clean napkin to dry her eyes. “Maybe we tackled the faith and church and God thing, and then we worry about the man.”
Charlie kept one arm around her friend as she finished wiping her face and reached for the strawberry lemonade cupcake with her free hand.
Faith by Fire (Prodigal Brothers MC Book 1) Page 10
