Faith by Fire (Prodigal Brothers MC Book 1)

by Rose Macwaters

  “I think maybe you’re right.”

  Sam draped her arm across Charlie’s shoulders. “No ‘maybe’ about it. I’m wise beyond my years, you know.”

  Charlie laughed around a mouthful of cupcake. It felt like mountains were moving inside her, continents forming and shifting and changing shape. She had no idea what her internal landscape was going to look like when it was all said and done, but the tiny flicker of hope had returned, and she was determined not to let it go out ever again.

  Chapter 18

  Charlie checked her reflection in the rearview mirror. It’d been over two weeks since she last saw Logan. After that night, she’d moved back into her old bedroom in her parents’ house, the solitude and long nights too much for her imagination to bear. At least until the Sheriff’s Department managed to round up a few more of the bad guys. Or any of them, really. She took a slow breath, trying to calm her nerves. This was fine. She was fine. Which was sort of true but also totally not.

  Was he mad at her?

  Charlie realized that she hadn’t really thought about what she’d do if Logan was cold toward her. Or disinterested. Or anything other than kind, friendly, and...warm. She’d gotten used to warm awfully quick. Another slow breath and she was almost ready to get out of the car. Her dad’s truck was parked a few spots down, so she knew her folks had already arrived. It was just a picnic. No big deal. She would know almost everyone there, including Samantha and the somehow still pregnant Ashley. And Liam. And the other Prodigal Brothers. They were hosting the event after all. Which meant she absolutely would see Logan.

  She caught her own eyes in the mirror and frowned.

  Get it together, Chuck. You’ve been way worse stuff than this.

  Get out of the car. Get out of the car.

  Get. Out. Of. The. Car.

  As soon as the last word left her thoughts, Charlie opened her car door and climbed out before she could change her mind. She smoothed one hand down the front of her sun dress. Be cool. This is fine. She retrieved her purse and the pie she’d baked from the back seat, then stood straighter, squaring her shoulders.

  Her wedged heels disagreed with the uneven ground, but she managed to make it all the way to the dessert table without falling. Or dropping the pie. Or dying. She smiled at the older woman running the table.

  “Hi. I’m Charlotte Woodland, Jim and Lucy’s daughter. I was just dropping off this pie. Peach, of course.”

  “Oh, I know who you are, honey. I’m Judy Lee, Doc’s wife.”

  Doc’s wife. Of course. Why had she assumed everyone involved in the biker ministry was unmarried?

  Because Logan is, you silly girl.

  “Nice to meet you. The turnout looks pretty great. Are y’all pleased?”

  “You know, we are. This is almost twice as many people as showed up last year. I think maybe we’re finally convincing a few folks that our boys might look rough and scary, but they really are doing the Lord’s work in this town.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Charlie smiled. Especially Logan, she thought but definitely didn’t say. “Have you seen my parents, by any chance?”

  “Not in a hot minute, but if I had to guess...maybe check over by the raffle table. My husband has a way of trapping people in conversation.”

  “Thanks, I’ll look there first. Bye!”

  Charlie gave a little wave as she wandered off in search of her folks. There really were a lot of people in attendance, far more than she’d expected. And why shouldn’t there be? It wasn’t like the Prodigal Brothers were her own personal secret or something.

  “Hey! Charlie!”

  She turned to see Liam approaching, his young nephew in tow.

  “There you are! Doc said you were coming today, and little Liam here has been looking absolutely everywhere, haven’t you, lad?”

  Little Liam gave a solemn nod, then extended his hand to Charlie. “I am glad to see you, Miss Charlotte. Are you having a good day?”

  She struggled to contain a laugh at his grown-sounding speech. “I am, Liam, thank you. Are you? Having a good day, that is?”

  “Yes, Miss Charlotte, I am. Thank you for asking.” He shook her hand, then kept hold of it while glancing up at his uncle. “Where’s Mr. Logan? Won’t he want to see her, too?”

  His uncle laughed. “Of course, he will. Let’s go look for him, eh? Nice to see you, Charlie.”

  “You, too.”

  They were going to tell Logan she was here. Would he really want to see her? Even after...everything she’d said? Maybe—maybe she could apologize. Explain how her heart was changing. It was still a work in progress, but things were getting better on the faith front. Slowly, but surely...ish.

  She found Ashley and Samantha standing in the shade of an old oak tree near the beverage table.

  “Hiding from the sun?”

  Ashley groaned. “Yes. Uh huh. And you would be too if you were a human oven slow roasting a smaller human inside your belly.”

  Charlie shot Sam a wide-eyed look. Her friend just shook her head and put a soothing hand on Ashley’s shoulder. “Hang in there, sis. Frank will back with the lemonade any minute.”

  “He’d better be, or I’ll…”

  Charlie didn’t hear the end of that sentence because suddenly Logan was there, his hand on her elbow guiding her away from the shade tree to an open spot of grass away from the main picnic crowd.

  “Doc said you were coming today.”

  Charlie nodded and adjusted the purse strap on her shoulder. She’d forgotten how deep his voice was. Again.

  “Yeah, uh, I made a pie. Peach.”

  She hadn’t looked at his face yet, but she could hear the smile in his voice. “I can’t wait to try it.” He touched her elbow again to get her attention. “How are you, Charlie?”

  “I’m okay. Good, really. Most days, anyway.” She looked up at him with a half-smile on her face, then frowned. He had a split lip. It was healing, but definitely there. Purplish bruising created a painful-looking halo around the torn skin. “Logan, you’re hurt. What happened?”

  Sunglasses hid his eyes, making his expression more difficult to read than she would have liked.

  “I’m okay. No need to worry about me.”

  His cheek was hurt, too. More dark purple, almost black, was smudged down his cheek. The edge of what looked like a pretty deep cut was just visible under the rim of his shades. He’d been in a fight. She glanced down at his hands, expecting to see torn knuckles, but they appeared unmarked. Logan wouldn’t just let somebody beat him up, would he? She looked up at him again.

  “Take off your sunglasses,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “Please.”

  He hesitated, then turned so his back was facing the rest of the picnic crowd before removing them. The damage to his cheek was worse than she’d expected, and Charlie let out an audible gasp before she could catch herself. Several dark stitches crisscrossed the cut, drawing the sides together and wrinkling the surrounding skin. The bruising spread upward, where burst blood vessels had left the white of his eye a jarring red. He met her eyes briefly before looking down at the sunglasses in his hands.

  “What...happened?”

  He cleared his throat. “It’s really nothing, Charlie. Don’t worry about it.”

  The memory of the last time she’d seen Greg flashed across her mind’s eye. He hadn’t wanted her to worry either. That’s why she hadn’t known he was going away, hadn’t been ready, hadn’t been able to say a proper good-bye, and then it was too late.

  A too-sweet vanilla latte she didn’t finish.

  The flash of his dimples and almost too-white teeth.

  She closed her eyes to banish the memory and the sight of Logan’s injured face.

  “It’s fine. Really. I got in a rough spot with a couple of guys, but your deputy friend showed up at just the right time.”

  “Frank?” Charlie opened her eyes to look over at where her childhood friend was kneeling in front of his pregnant wife, holding a cu
p of lemonade for her while she took a sip. He hadn’t told her, either. Why hadn’t they told her? Why did the men in her life insist on treating her as if she didn’t deserve to know the truth, no matter how shocking or difficult or unpleasant? She turned to walk away.

  “Hey. Charlie, wait.”

  He reached for her, but she slipped away from his hand. “No. No, I can’t do this. I’m sorry. I came here to tell you that I’m sorry for what I said before. About God and grace and forgiveness. But I can’t do this. Not again.” She looked up at his wounded face, then squeezed her eyes shut briefly before taking several steps away from him. “I don’t want to be someone you have to ‘handle,’ Logan. You’re hurt, and...and it scares me. I admit that. But seeing you like this…and no one told me. You didn’t. Frank didn’t tell me. I can’t. I can’t do this. I’m sorry. Sorry.”

  She waved him off when he tried to follow her, going straight back to her car. She’d thought she was ready.

  She was wrong.

  Chapter 19

  Logan was stunned.

  He remained where Charlie had left him, standing at the edge of the picnic crowd and watching her rush away. Once she was in her car and pulling out of the driveway, he raced over to where his bike was parked in line with the other Brothers’ bikes at the edge of the lot. She had a decent head start, but he knew where she was going. At least he hoped he did.

  He didn’t catch a glimpse of her for several blocks, and his confidence in his tracking skills began to wane. What if she wasn’t going straight home? She could be anywhere in Willow Bough by now, and he knew better than anyone that not every street in town was safe. Not by a long shot. Logan had just about decided to pull over and call Frank when he spotted her car at a stoplight two blocks ahead. Thank God. He narrowed the gap but didn’t dare come closer than a block. She probably wouldn’t be too happy to know he was following her home. Not after what had happened between them.

  What had happened between them? Logan’s grip tightened. He’d stayed away from her for weeks. Weeks. And it was one of the hardest things he’d ever done. He’d tried to satisfy himself by praying for her, by keeping loose tabs on her through Liam, who’d assured him she was doing fine. According to Frank, with whom he was forming an uneasy friendship, she’d been back in church two weeks running, sitting in the third pew with her mama, just like she used to. He smiled at the thought. It was progress. Which was why he’d been eager to see her. If she could move forward, let go of her anger over her fiancé’s death, maybe he could forgive himself enough to try.

  Hope. He’d been feeling hope. But something had gone terribly wrong.

  He eased to a stop at the edge of Charlie’s neighborhood and watched as she turned into the driveway of her parents’ house instead of the side street that wound around to the detached apartment where she lived. He frowned. Had she moved back in with her folks? He wouldn’t blame her if she had. In fact, it sounded like a great idea, considering. He sighed.

  Considering the fact that some really rough dudes had it out for her. Because of him. Though he still wasn’t entirely sure who was behind it all Doc had pieced together some information from his connections around the state, but nothing concrete. And the Sheriff? Well, no new leads there, at least according to Frank. He walked his bike into the shade of a magnolia tree and pulled off his helmet. The faint breeze felt good on his sweat-soaked neck, and he ran a hand through his hair. He still needed to get that haircut.

  The street was quiet, no sign of an unmarked van. Logan let his shoulders relax as he played his last interaction with Charlie over in his head. What had gone wrong? She’d seemed happy to see him. At first. The split in his lower lip was still faintly coppery against his tongue. He looked rough; he knew that. He’d really hoped to spare her the sight of his wounds—and the reality behind them. If the guys who’d attacked him were the same ones that were after her, they had guns. And were apparently willing to brandish them in the middle of the street and in broad daylight. That kind of arrogance could only come from one of two sources: outright stupidity or actual power. Logan hoped against hope it was the former. For all their sakes.

  His phone chirped and he checked the screen. It was Liam.

  “Hey, man.”

  “Logan! Where are you? Did you leave?”

  “Yeah. Had to make sure Charlie got home safe.”

  There was a pause. And then, “I thought I saw you two together. What happened?”

  Logan shook his head. “I don’t know. I pulled her aside to talk, and then she saw my face and, I don’t know, said she was sorry and left.”

  “Sorry for what?”

  “Well, she said sorry for what she’d said before, about God and faith. Sounds like she is actually doing better with that stuff.”

  “Which is good news, yes?”

  “Yeah. But she also said sorry like a, ‘I can’t do this’ sort of thing. I don’t know, brother. Maybe this just isn’t meant to be.”

  Liam chuckled. “You don’t really believe that, do you?”

  “I don’t want to. Charlie, she...I just want a chance, you know?”

  “I do know. Which is why you’re not going to give up, my melancholic friend. Where are you right now?”

  Logan cleared his throat. “Outside her house. Watching the street.”

  “Logan.”

  “I know. I know. But I’ve been here a solid fifteen minutes and no sign of any police presence. What happened to local law enforcement keeping a close eye on her? Making sure she’s safe? Because she’s home alone right now and there’s no one here to watch for her.”

  “Except for you.”

  “Exactly.”

  Logan could hear live music in the background.

  “Listen, I get that you’re worried, all right? But things have been...quiet...since, you know, you got beaten to a bloody pulp and all that. Maybe they got their blood, you know? Maybe they’ve sent their message. Maybe they’re done.”

  “You telling me, someone you loved was in this situation, you’d back off right now? After a few quiet days?”

  “Absolutely not.” Liam chuckled again. “In fact, my gut says you’re probably right to remain on guard, but I thought I’d at least try to be the voice of reason.”

  “Except guys like this are the furthest thing from reasonable.”

  “Hear, hear. Okay, well, call me if you need anything. Want me to let you know when it looks like her parents are heading that way?”

  “Yeah, that’d be great. Thanks.”

  Logan scanned the street again, then closed his eyes, running one hand roughly down his face. If only he knew for sure who was really behind all this, he could face it head on. Confront the problem, solve it, free Charlie.

  Charlie.

  He looked up at her house a few driveways down. Why had she responded that way to him? She’d looked terrified, which he understood, but also angry, which he didn’t. He took a slow breath and said a prayer on the exhale. The stakes were high, and he wasn’t sure of the win conditions, much less his odds. But he had faith, and maybe just a little bit of hope. That had to be enough.

  Chapter 20

  Charlie forced herself to walk at a normal pace when she left Logan standing at the edge of the picnic crowd. She wanted to run. She wanted to put as much distance between herself and Logan Matthews as she possibly could, and fast.

  What had she been thinking? It was just like before. When she reached her car, she unlocked it with shaking hands and sat quietly behind the wheel for several moments, gathering herself before she felt ready to drive. He hadn't followed her. She could still see him where he stood on the other side of the crowd.

  She was glad he hadn't followed her, but part of her was disappointed, too. She was of two minds and two hearts about all of it, except the fact that these men refused to trust her, refused to acknowledge that she was strong enough, had proven time and again that she was strong enough to handle the truth. Whatever that truth may be. However uncomfortable o
r worrisome or even scary, she could handle it.

  Greg had never seen that in her. Charlie blinked away tears as she backed out of her parking spot and made her way out of the parking lot. But even back then, as innocent she was, she’d deserved to know. They were supposed to be getting married, and he hadn't told her that he was going out of town for two weeks because he’d known she would worry. The tears burned hot in her eyes as she fought to keep her composure on the drive home.

  She would have been worried, but it would have been okay. She never would have asked him to stay home. She was not that girlfriend, not that fiancé, and she wouldn't have been that wife. If Greg had felt called to go on a mission trip, no matter how dangerous—Charlie took one hand off the wheel to brush at the tears in her eyes—she would have let him go. Our faith doesn't always call us to safety, her mother told her. Christians throughout history have been called into grave danger.

  True, it might have tested her faith at the time, but she could have prayed, they could have talked, but Greg had taken that from her. Why? She had never stood between him and anything that he'd ever wanted to do. She swallowed hard. Her heart whispered the answer to that question, but she wasn't sure she was ready to acknowledge it. She had loved Greg, and a part of her probably always would, but he hadn't been perfect. No man ever was. She wasn't helping anybody by pretending he’d been a saint. He didn't even know what kind of coffee she liked.

  Something like peace washed over Charlie as she pulled into her parents’ neighborhood. Moving forward wasn't the same as moving on. Another bit of grandmotherly wisdom. Her Gran knew a thing or two about living and loving. Charlie couldn't change what had happened to Greg, but she could forgive him. She could forgive him for not telling her the truth. She could forgive him for not treating her as an equal partner. She was even working on forgiving God for taking him so soon. A glance in her rearview mirror showed familiar bike two blocks behind her.