Two Hearts Born to Love (Choices: Tarkio MC Book 3)

by Debra Kayn

  That poor boy. Travis was now fourteen years old and he'd lived through more than she would in her lifetime. To lose his mother and have a grown man threatening him and chasing him, no wonder he was scared to death. If only Wyatt had known, he could've done something.

  Dean Miller hadn't wanted to gain custody of the kids. He was after his drugs and if he knew that Travis had knowledge of his mom being dead before the crash, who knew what Dean would do.

  "I will do whatever I can to protect you, but we need to draw attention to this room." She rolled, groaning in pain.

  Every time she managed to heave her body over and roll on her shoulder, pain shot down her arm and up her neck. By the time she managed to roll across the room, she was lightheaded and nauseated. She wiggled until her feet were against the door.

  "Your voice is louder than mine. Yell as loud as you can, and when you're done, I'll kick the door and make as much noise as I can." Lying on her back, she pulled her feet up, ignoring the fact that her weight was all on her arms tied behind her. "Go."

  Travis yelled. His voice deeper than hers, she wasn't sure it was louder. As soon as he stopped, she kicked the flat of her feet against the door, one after another, as if she stomped Dean Miller's head.

  Her thigh muscles burned. She gave one last attempt and stopped. "Your turn. Yell."

  Back and forth, they used what they had, and they fought to stay positive. Her optimism that someone would hear them waned with each turn, and no one came to check out the noise. She grabbed on to the hope that they were making so much racket that when Dean returned, he'd be afraid to open the door and have someone hear them.

  Come on, Wyatt. Please hear us. Please find us.

  Chapter 36

  Wyatt

  FRUSTRATED AT NOT FINDING Travis and Joey instantly after talking with Mrs. Danski, Wyatt stared at the closed-off apartments in Unit C. It was a smaller building with only four apartments, whereas the other units had six on top, six on the bottom level.

  If Mrs. Danski had watched them walk over here with who he suspected was Dean, where the hell could they be? He walked around the building again, checking bushes again, checking the stair alcove again.

  The rain soaked his jeans, plastering them to his legs. Any footprints in the grass would've been ruined by the storm. It was too dark to see more than a foot in front of his face. Forcing himself to calm down, he stepped into the alcove.

  Leaning against the railing at the bottom of the stairs, he clamped his teeth and inhaled through his nose. Worries clouded his thinking. He'd just got his kids after being a part-time dad and fighting for custody their whole life. Parenting wasn't supposed to be that damn hard that he couldn't keep track of one stubborn boy.

  What was he doing wrong?

  Now Joey was missing, too. He swallowed the fear choking him.

  Joey was everything good. His whole life, he'd looked for that one woman who he couldn't live without, and after a lot of mistakes and attempts, he'd finally found her. He loved her, and he wasn't willing to lose her.

  He couldn't lose his family.

  The railing vibrated underneath his arm. The hair on the back of his neck prickled, and he looked around. There was no thunder, nobody living in Unit C.

  He wrapped his fingers around the iron. His breath caught in his chest, feeling the movement again. He catapulted himself over the railing onto the stairs and ran up to the second story. Muffled banging came through the steady patter of rain. A noise he hadn't heard from the ground.

  "Travis?" he yelled. "Joey?"

  "Dad!"

  His heart burst. "I'm here, son. I'm here. Keep yelling. I'll find you."

  He tried door handles, finding them locked. The banging grew louder, and he moved forward. The last door, locked, bounced against his touch from a force inside the apartment.

  "Dad! Help us," yelled his son.

  "Move back," he shouted, stepping back to the balcony railing.

  Rushing forward, shoulder down, he threw all two hundred and twenty pounds of him against the door. The wood cracked but remained closed.

  He ran at it again, and he broke the wood around the lock, and the door banged loose against the wall. He took in his son, dried blood on his face, his skin flushed, his hands bound behind his back, hopping on both feet for balance with his legs tied together. Assured that he would be fine, he dropped his gaze to Joey, curled on the floor, her back to him.

  "Son? Are you okay?" He stepped into the room.

  "Yeah." Travis breathed, close to hyperventilating.

  He bent his knees, reached out, and rolled Joey over. "Tiger?"

  "I'm okay." Her chin chattered. "Help me up. Please. Just help me up."

  He took his knife out of his pocket and cut the tape at Joey's ankles and lifted her to her feet. Holding on to her, he moved around and cut the tape off her wrists.

  "Hold on to me." He stepped over to his son and carved through the tape.

  Once everyone was free, he gathered them both in his arms. His heart pounded, finding them alive. He had no idea they'd been so close the whole time.

  Travis turned. "We need to go."

  "Where is Dean?" he asked.

  Travis forehead wrinkled. "I sent him away, but he's going to come back and find out I lied when he can't find what he's after." Travis hobbled to the door, still unsteady on his feet. "We need to get out of here."

  "Lied about what? What was Dean after?"

  "The drugs. The kind that killed Mom. I stole them so he couldn't force anyone else to take them." Joey shook. "We need to go."

  Capturing Joey's face, he looked in her eyes. "Can you walk?"

  Pain etched her face, and she nodded. "It's just my shoulder."

  He kept both of them close, taking them outside, down the stairs. Their progress slower than he wanted, he couldn't carry Joey, or he'd cause more pain in her shoulder.

  Wanting them safe inside before Dean came back, he scanned the area as they walked across the grass. There was nobody around. Besides Frank inside with Jess, there were no Tarkio members in sight because they were all out looking on the streets surrounding the apartments.

  "Son, where are the drugs?" he asked.

  "At the rest stop by the river. I threw the bag on the roof of the public restrooms." His son rubbed his wrist. "Nobody can get up there without a ladder."

  He'd need to go get the bag and dispose of the drugs before anyone mistakenly found it. There were already too many deaths because of a bad batch of crack.

  Twenty-five feet from the apartment, Frank stepped out, spotted them, and jogged over to help. While Frank put Travis's arm over his shoulder and took some of the weight off his legs, Wyatt concentrated on getting Joey into the house.

  "Do they need medical care?" asked Frank.

  "Joey hurt her shoulder." He looked at his son beside Joey on the couch, tilted Travis's head, and inspected his son's nose. "How's that feel?"

  "It aches when I breathe," said Travis.

  "Looks like you got your first busted nose." He turned his son's face sideways. "It'll heal. How are your teeth?"

  "My mouth is fine." He turned his head. "Can you shut and lock the door?"

  Jess walked over and locked the door, then joined them on the couch, handing Travis a wet washcloth. He looked at his family, wanting to keep them right here in front of him, forever.

  The phone rang. He ignored it.

  "I'll answer that. It could be someone from Tarkio calling," said Frank, moving to the kitchen.

  "I'll get you to the hospital." He leaned over and kissed Joey's forehead. "As soon as I know it's safe."

  "I'll be fine. It's just really sore." She held her arm and looked up at him. "You need to stay with Travis," she whispered.

  He nodded, understanding that more went on that he couldn't understand and went unspoken for now. His hands shook. A man was out there that had harmed his family. Dean wouldn't get away with the damage he'd caused. Nobody was allowed to touch those he loved.
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  "Jess, get some ice for your brother's nose. Put it in a towel." He caressed Joey's leg, unable to keep his hands off her, to assure him she was okay. "Are you hanging in there?"

  "I'll be fine." She turned her head to look at Travis, and her lower lip quivered.

  The vulnerable display of love from her to his son shook him. He squeezed her leg, rubbing his thumb along the seam of her jeans, shook to his core. The emotions he witnessed pass over Joey's face sealed his love for her.

  She wasn't worried about herself. All she wanted was Travis to be okay. He could guarantee he would be because he would make sure that nobody else would ever get their hands on his son, or her.

  Frank entered the living room. "We got him."

  Wyatt stood. His body at attention. "You're sure?"

  "Roddy spotted him running behind the apartment. Two Tarkio members were close by and took off after him." Frank lowered his voice. "You've got exactly one minute, and then we're taking him away."

  He looked at his son, met his strong, stubborn gaze. Understanding passed between them. He wasn't aware of how much Travis knew about his former stepdad, but what he received was understanding and support.

  Gazing at Joey, she blinked. A blink that pushed him to tell Frank to stay with his family and sent Wyatt walking out of the apartment. Kicking into a jog, he stayed close to the building and headed toward the back.

  He spotted the Tarkio members at the rear corner where no one from the other units could see them from their windows. Arriving full of anger and moving on the adrenaline still coursing through his body, he stopped at Dean Miller's prone body.

  The gun in Roddy's hand pressed to Dean's head, kept the man silent. Wyatt squatted beside Dean. A hundred questions came to mind but none of the answers were important. The only urge he had was to blow Dean's head off for harming his son, for hurting Joey.

  Dean glared at him, wisely keeping his mouth shut. Wyatt stared down at the man who'd not only made his kids' lives harder than they already were having a drug addict as a mother, but had pushed his son to desperately put his life at risk and run in fear. Wyatt held his own guilt for getting Claudia pregnant. He had no excuses. Not his young age, his irresponsible habits, or his bad choices.

  But he'd turned his life around. He'd stepped up and done whatever was needed to make sure his kids knew they were loved.

  "That last second before you're dead, know that my name is on the bullet. You will die. For Claudia. For Travis. For Jess. For Joey." He straightened, standing over Dean.

  Dean's wild gaze kept coming back to him. Yeah, he better remember who brought wrath down on him. He needed to pay for the scars put on his children.

  It wasn't enough, but he'd honor his agreement with Tarkio Motorcycle Club and let them have the final punishment. Either way, Dean Miller would die tonight.

  Paco stepped closer. "We'll be leaving as soon as the car comes to pick us up."

  He nodded, fisting his hands. "I need to take Joey to the E.R. and have her shoulder checked."

  "We have someone associated with Tarkio who can make a house-call and help you out there." Paco stared down at Dean. "He's a qualified doctor. I've used him myself."

  "Appreciate it."

  "You should go back to your family. Priest will get ahold of you tomorrow." Paco turned and lowered his voice. "Lose some of that anger, man. Don't carry it with you."

  All the fear, rage, worry came out in a violent burst. He drove his steel-toed boot into the side of Dean's body. The whoosh of Dean's breath, escaping his mouth, filled the night air. He pounded his fists into Dean's face. The bone beneath his knuckles made a satisfying crunch.

  He swung over and over. Vengeance replaced the anger.

  Before he'd purged the anger from his body, Paco wrapped his arms around Wyatt's chest from behind, trapping his arms to his sides. He heaved for breath, seeing red. Satisfaction at the blood coating Dean's face washed over him.

  "That's enough. I can't have you killing him. Tarkio will do the rest." Paco kept hold of Wyatt. "Shake it off, concentrate on your family now and know Tarkio will see this through."

  He spit on the man who tried to take his family away from him. "I'm done."

  Paco let him go. He turned away, wiping his hands on his jeans, and headed toward the apartment.

  Priest and six others passed him. He lifted his chin and never stopped walking. It was over.

  Chapter 37

  Joey

  JANE FONDA STRETCHED on the television. Joey widened her stance, put her arms above her head, and leaned to the left, mimicking the moves. Already ten minutes into the aerobics tape and she was sweating and out of breath.

  Straightening, she ran in place, pumping her arms, trying to get her knees up higher. Jane's voice counted the steps without sucking air into her lungs and not a hair out of place. Joey hated her perfection.

  As soon as the cool-down exercises started, she walked over and ejected the VCR out of the machine and turned off the TV.

  Slow clapping filled the apartment. Joey whirled around and gasped at the sight of Wyatt leaning against the kitchen counter, watching her.

  "You dork. How long have you been here?" She picked up the towel on the arm of the couch and wiped her face off.

  "Long enough to see that you're not favoring your left shoulder any longer, and your butt looks great in those nylon shorts." Wyatt walked over to her, gave her a kiss, and reached around her to squeeze that body part he'd been caught admiring.

  She groaned. "I thought you were checking on your crew and then going to the clubhouse."

  "I did." He sat down on the couch and put his boots up on the coffee table. "The garage convert is a week away from being finished, and Tarkio is Tarkio. Now it's time for me to enjoy you."

  "Mm." She stepped over to him and sat on his lap. "The kids will be back in an hour."

  "We have Jess's last volleyball game of the season tonight."

  "At home or away?"

  "Home." He slid his hand between her legs and slipped his fingers under her thigh.

  "That's good. Travis has a test tomorrow, and he'll need the extra time after the game to study." She inhaled deeply and shared a smile with Wyatt.

  Travis had rebounded from being caught by his former stepfather over the last six weeks. The easy-going boy she'd always imagined lurked below the surface came out and entertained the family every night. He'd had a growing interest in dirt bike riding, often going over to Frank's house and riding with his oldest son. Wyatt had even mentioned the idea of buying Travis a motorcycle for Christmas.

  Jess, while she'd only heard the basics about what had happened the night Dean caught her and Joey, tended to watch over her brother more and worry about her dad when he was late coming home for dinner. Her compassion for others added more stress to her life, but Joey had learned that lots of talking and giving Wyatt's daughter time to get things off her chest helped keep her happy and more relaxed.

  "I mailed a letter to my mom this morning. I hope she gets it before her move." She couldn't believe her mom was in love.

  The last letter she'd received was full of information about Dr. Harry Kramer, who was also going to Italy with her. Or her mom was following him. It wasn't clear in the writing. The happiness oozing from her mom was wonderful to hear, and she hoped things worked out for her. She also felt better knowing her mom wasn't alone in her travels. She hoped at the end of her mom's contract to work in Italy, she'd take a much-needed break and come back to the states. At least for a visit.

  "If not, you can write her another one." He kissed the side of her head. "It was nice of her to send you pictures."

  "She looks happy, huh?"

  "You look like your mom." He chuckled. "Even your nose is the same."

  "Yeah." She sighed. "I miss her, but yet I'm so happy she's doing what she loves, and now she's met a guy...a doctor. There are so many changes happening for everyone."

  "Good stuff." Wyatt strummed her leg with his thumb. "Do yo
u have plans for Friday night?"

  "None that I know of. Why?"

  "I want to go out." He leaned his head against the back of the couch.

  She smiled and snuggled against him. "Just us?"

  He grunted in agreement. "I want to take you to Riverside Bar."

  She sat up straight and looked at him, trying to hide her disappointment. Friday nights were for pool tournaments at the bar. Since the awful experience of being held captive by Dean Miller and dislocating her shoulder, she hadn't played a single game. It wouldn't be a relaxing time away with Wyatt with the games going on in the background and knowing she wouldn't be playing.

  As soon as the swelling had gone down in her shoulder, she'd started using her arm more. There was a little weakness left in her shoulder that caused her hand to shake if she held her arm up for longer than a minute. For the last two weeks, she'd fallen back on exercising to videos and lifting Campbell soup cans in the air to regain her strength and steadiness.

  "Could we go somewhere else?" She glanced at him. "There's a new bar over on Evergreen Street that has music on Friday and Saturday. Donna told me it's fun and lively."

  He shook his head. Her heart sank.

  She hadn't discussed her doubts about her shoulder with Wyatt. He worried about her, and technically, she was fine. Dr. Graham had diagnosed her as fully healed. There was no pain, and she could do everything like normal. Except, she knew her body and the strength and steadiness she needed to shoot pool. She wasn't sure she'd ever play at the skill level she was at before the injury, and honestly, she was afraid to find out.

  "You need to get back in your routine and start playing again." His gaze softened. "Chalk up that cue stick and kick some ass."

  "Wyatt..." She closed her mouth, knowing if she spoke her disappointments out loud, it would be real. Too real. "There's no reason to play now. I'm not even close to having the money for the Blackfoot Tournament, and the deadline is next week."