Scorned (A Ruthless Rebels MC #2)

by Ryan Michele

  “I believe it, Austin. I just don’t know how to process all of this.”

  “I know, Drea. I don’t know how to process it myself,” I reply honestly. It kills me inside. I want nothing more than for her to find her security in me, in us.

  “Austin, since things aren’t random and it’s about me, do you think we should leave so whoever is doing this doesn’t bother Kenderly and DJ? She’s pregnant. I’d never forgive myself if something happened.”

  There’s a sadness in her voice that cuts me deep, but it also makes me love her more. “Damn, you got heart, Kitten. I love your concern for others. I promise you with the security system in place, no one is getting to you or Kenderly here. And they won’t be getting to you at our house either.”

  I kiss the top of her head and hold her close. For the next hour, we lay on the couch together, her against my side, just quietly enjoying being with one another. It reminds me of the movies we used to watch together and the way she purred against me, just like she’s doing now.

  Gramps voice plays in my head. “Austin, my boy, find a woman you can be quiet with. In the still of the moment, the most meaningful times occur when there are things unsaid but seen, felt, and known between you.”

  I never knew what he was talking about until now. I can see Drea with me just like this when we’re eighty-five and still comfortable in each others arms.

  Chapter 15

  When I’m done, I mean it in capital letters dammit!

  “This is great, Andrea,” my boss, Mr. Collins, says after handing him the piece I wrote on the upcoming charity run the Ruthless Rebels are doing. It’s been hard to focus on anything after hearing everything Austin told me, but this article helped me. Don’t get me wrong, it’s horrible what the child and his family are going through, and it pains me just writing the words. But the hope in it is what I’ve clung to. The hope that this treatment the Rebels are helping fund will save this little boy.

  Gloria has been a great help with the Rebels information, and I’m so impressed with them. I knew from talking with her the other night that this wasn’t the Rebels first charity run, but to know that they have done over four hundred in the past ten years is remarkable. Some of them have been for cancer research, autism, and many for individual families.

  She showed me pictures, and the smiles on all of their faces showed of their want to help. Austin looked so young in several of them and I’ll fully admit the ones with him and women, I avoided like the plague.

  “Thank you. I’m very proud of it.”

  His smile is wide. “We’ll run this on the cover.”

  “Really?” I gasp in surprise. While I knew he’d run it, knowing it will be on the front page, even if the GJS is a small paper, is a big deal to me. While I was in Florida, all I wanted was to find that big story and nail it so I could get that coveted position. Now, that isn’t in my realm of needs, but it’s still a wonderful thing.

  “Absolutely. We’ll run it now so that’ll give people a shot to get involved. Then you’ll need a follow up.”

  “Of course.” Pride hits me in the gut. This is the part of investigative reporting that I wanted. Not being in the middle of a warzone, but sharing news that can make a difference. I want to help people. I want to see this family get the support and their son to live a full life.

  I head out to my desk and sit down. The high surrounds me as I lean back, look up to the ceiling and close my eyes. I’m good at this. Damn good and I’ve missed it.

  “Andrea.”

  I jump at the male voice, my eyes flying open and bit of dizziness hitting at the sudden movement. I blink rapidly trying to clear my vision and see Hunter, a co-worker, standing by my cubicle space.

  “Hey, Hunter, what’s going on?”

  “Sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you. Are you alright?” The concern is evident in his voice.

  My vision and hearing come in line, and I nod. “Of course, what can I do for you?”

  He pulls his arm from the side of my short wall with a bundle of beautiful lilies. Warmth surrounds me because there is only one man who would send me flowers—Austin. I’m not sure that this is his gig, but it’s sweet like the side he doesn’t show the entire world, only me.

  “Thank you.” I stand, reaching out for them, as he hands them to me.

  “See ya.” He leaves as I set the flowers down on my desk.

  The little white card pokes through, and I pull it out happiness bursting from my skin. Sliding the little card out, I flip it over when the first side is blank.

  My breathing stops, but not from my condition—no from cold, paralyzing fear. The card reads:

  It’ll be you next.

  The words are blood red in perfectly fine script. There are even little drops of the red looking like blood spatter on the card. Oh my god.

  I reach into my purse and grab my phone, dialing Austin. My hands shake as I pull the phone to my ear. Kenderly is at my work station, her eyes wide. “What’s going on?”

  I turn the card and show it to her just as Austin picks up the phone. “Kitten, we’re on our way back. Should be there in about thirty.” He’s on a run that he didn’t want to take because it meant leaving me, but I reassured him I’d be fine. He’s going to be pissed when I tell him.

  “Kitten?” he asks into the phone when I say nothing. I feel like I’m in shock.

  Shaking my head, I answer, “Austin. Someone sent me lilies. I thought they were from you, but when I opened the card—in blood red the words say, ‘It’ll be you next’.”

  “Son of a motherfucker! Skinny hit the fuckin’ gas,” he orders then comes back to me. “I’m callin’ DJ and Thumper to come to the Star. Put the card down and don’t let anyone else touch it. Get the fuck away from the flowers.”

  I get up, seeing Kenderly on the phone. I grab her arm and pull her to the other side of the office building. “I think Kenderly is on the phone with DJ.” Kenderly nods her head frantically.

  “Good. Tell her to tell DJ to get his ass there now.”

  I look to her and relay the message, which she tells her man. Anger bubbles in my veins, mixing with the fear in an intoxicating concoction. I’m tired of this shit. I’m over it. I’m done. DONE.

  “I’m going to find out who this is,” I tell Austin into the phone. “I’m done with this. Done being scared. Done living my life like this. Done, Austin!” I screech as eyes in the office come to me, but I don’t care. I have one life, and it’s time I take mine back.

  “Calm down, Kitten. Give me a few, and I’ll be there. Skinny just called the other two, and they’ll be there in five. Just hang on.”

  “Hang on? You want me to hang on,” I yell into the phone. “No, I’m not hanging on. I’m going to find out who this person is. Even if I have to dig up the dead to do it.”

  “Kitten, we’ve already looked into everyone you’ve talked about and have come up empty-handed.”

  “I know, but there’s…” My mind skips kind of like a DVD with a large scratch on it. It plays, but then stops and then plays some more. Flashes of images, not from my time in Ukraine, but times after I came back. “Austin. I need to go to storage. My boxes from Florida are in a ten by fifteen unit. I don’t know why I didn’t think about it before, but what if there’s something there.”

  “What kind of stuff? You told me you didn’t have anything.” I did do that when I came back, but that’s because I felt like I didn’t. My life has been uneventful until Ukraine. Until the trip where Luke lost it all, I really didn’t have anything. All of this has to tie to the Ukraine, I just don’t know how yet. I think about the time there—the time leading up to the bombing and the time after, but my mind is stuck.

  “I felt as if I didn’t. But what if something from my time in Ukraine is in those boxes? What if there’s a key or an idea that will trigger something in my head. Or I need to go to a doctor, maybe they can hypnotize me into remembering,” I lay out all my thoughts out loud, no doubt everyone thinking I’ve l
ost my mind, but each one is legitimate.

  The phone is pulled away from my ear, and I turn in a huff ready to punch whoever did it. Not that I know exactly what I’m doing, but I’m in a mood. I halt when it’s DJ. He puts the phone up to his ear. “Yeah, brother, I heard it. Lurch and I’ll take her to check it out. Meet us there.”

  He slides the phone off and I glare at him, which really isn’t smart, but we all have our moments. “I wasn’t done talking to him.”

  “Yes, you were. He can’t drive down the damn road and get here quick with you freakin’ the fuck out over the phone.” I huff but say nothing. “Kenie, you’re comin’ with us, but first, show me the flowers.”

  Triple Threat comes in behind Thumper looking as pissed as I feel. “Flowers,” he grunts, and I point to where DJ is with Kenderly. Triple Threat stomps over to them while Thumper puts his arm around my shoulder. I tense, yet he just pulls me closer to him allowing me to feel his strength. My anger is still on the surface, but with him pulling me in, I feel it slowly reining in.

  Triple Threat, which let’s admit, is a scary as hell name, walks past me with the flowers and the note not saying a word as Gilly walks in.

  “Who brought the flowers to you?” Thumper asks.

  “Hunter, my co-worker.” Thumper nods to DJ as Kenderly takes him to Hunter’s cubicle.

  “He say anything when he gave them to ya?”

  “No. Nothing out of the ordinary. I mean, I’ve never gotten flowers at work so that was unusual, but Hunter didn’t seem different in any sort of way.”

  DJ strides back. “Says a man with dark hair, brown eyes, and a dimple on his left cheek paid him to deliver the flowers. He didn’t get a name only took the cash.” DJ holds up three one hundred dollar bills. “I traded those for these. Gonna send them with Gilly and see if he can get prints off of them. Hunter says the guy didn’t have gloves on. Also, going to have him pull up the feed from here.”

  “Feed?” I ask.

  “We installed cameras in the place to keep you and Kenie safe,” DJ says casually, but I don’t respond.

  “Let’s go.” Thumper pulls me through the doors without even telling Mr. Collins that Kenderly nor I were leaving for the day. Shit.

  Chapter 16

  Never have I ever … and it’s not a fucking game!

  Skinny pulls up to the local storage place where we easily find Kenderly sitting on a box as DJ carries out another one while Drea is digging into another in front of her unit. I leap from the car and stride directly to Drea whose determined eyes turn to me. There’s a fierceness that I haven’t seen in a while and it’s not the place or the time, but fuck that spark makes me hard.

  She starts to talk, but I kiss her and wrap her in my arms. It takes her a bit to calm, but eventually she kisses me back, melting into me. When I pull away, she’s a bit dazed.

  “Calm. Skinny is going to meet Gilly to work on the flowers. We need to go through this shit and get shit sorted.”

  “Yeah,” is her simple reply as she tries to come back to her senses from our kiss. I love that I can do that to her.

  An hour later, we have gone through eighteen boxes containing everything from DVD’s, books, dishes, and even one box dedicated to fuzzy socks that Drea attributed to having tile floor in her Florida apartment. Apparently, the air conditioning makes the floor cold. No wonder she was determined to have a bit of tile in our new house. My woman loves fuzzy socks, who knew.

  Drea opens the next box and immediately sits on the ground crossing her legs like we did in elementary school for story time. She runs her hand over a well-worn leather bound journal.

  Time seems to stand still as she opens the book. Her eyes fill with tears by the time she reaches page two.

  “It was constant.” She looks up to me. “The bombing, the war, there was never a moment of peace.”

  Kenderly tucks herself into DJ’s side, no doubt feeling Drea’s pain.

  Moving to sit behind my woman, I wrap my arms around her as I read over her shoulder.

  Today we met with a woman who looked defeated but still determined. David Holloway’s wife has no intention of returning to the United States. According to her recount of events, the marital home was anything but bliss. Not only did the young woman come to a new country to spend her life with the man she met online and fell in love with, but she quickly learned the man had a temper.

  Not only did she fail at keeping her husband happy, but his mother lived with the couple as well. The woman who sat down with Luke and I today is more concerned with her children being around their grandmother. Apparently, Holloway’s mother had an unhealthy relationship with her son.

  “What’s the wife’s name again, Kitten?” I ask Drea while my mind races looking for a refresher of some sort to trigger anything to make this make sense.

  “Yelena Holloway,” she answers, turning her head to look at me. “She’s a woman just trying to protect her sons.”

  Without moving from behind Drea, I pull out my phone and call Gilly. He answers on the first ring. “Check into Yelena Holloway again! The update we had was delayed by a few months, so let’s make sure nothing in her situation has changed and she’s still in the camp. Then let’s sort out where David Holloway’s mother went after her son died.”

  “On it, brother.”

  “Thanks.” I click off the phone and continue to read over Drea’s shoulder.

  Today, as I sit back and think hard on the woman’s demeanor, she is genuinely afraid. For a man who has money to cover the expense of this trip, he certainly should have been able to find a compromise to satisfy him and the mother of his children. Only, the woman we met today swears he doesn’t make a move without his mother’s approval.

  David Holloway never changed a single diaper or fed even one bottle or meal to their boys. If we take the woman at her word, it makes no sense for the man to come so far to keep his children. In fact, she claims her soon to be ex-husband only sought to take the boys after his mother threatened her. She says he won’t defy his mother no matter what the cost to himself or his children.

  Andrea stops and closes the book. The air around us is heavy with her emotions. I hold her while she takes a few deep breaths.

  “I remember,” she whispers. “I remember walking out of this meeting with Yelena confused. Luke and I no longer knew if we were doing the right thing in disrupting this woman’s life. From her take on things, the kids might have been better off with her even in a war-ridden country than with their father. We didn’t know if us being here or David trying to get the kids was in the best interest of the children. Neither of us could say with certainty there was even a story here to cover. Investigative reporting wasn’t supposed to be custody mediation. We never understood why the network sent us on this story in the first place. It wasn’t until I got back that my boss explained why David Holloway was covering the expenses. This was a private job, and it was never the intention of any parties involved to air the footage. We were merely there to document Holloway’s journey so he had proof of his efforts. Only with my injury being my focus, I didn’t retain the information. Nothing seems to settle in right away, so I don’t have good short-term memory or long term. It’s still coming to me in pieces. I spent two months in the hospital in Germany before I ever made it back to the States. By then, when I finally sat down with my boss, the words were just words because it all meant my life would never be the same again.”

  I kiss the side of her head.

  “The day of the bomb, Luke and I had discussed calling the network to cancel the story. Before we could make the call, Luke tackled me to the ground and covered me with his body. I hit my head on the way down, blacking out before everything crumbled around us. He died for nothing, the story wasn’t real, Austin,” Drea cries, and I am helpless to ease her pain.

  My phone rings, and I quickly swipe to answer. “Brother.”

  “Shamus, Yelena Holloway and her two boys died a little over four months ago in a tragic house f
ire,” Gilly says with an eerie tone.

  “Why do I get the feeling there is more to it than that?”

  “We know she was in the refugee camp after the blast. After two months there, she had found herself a job in the city and worked to get the boys a home of their own. Before Andrea even got out of Germany, Yelena Holloway had started life and was off to a good start.”

  “You’re still not telling me everything, brother.” I can feel it.

  “David Holloway left all of his money, insurance, his entire estate to his mother. Not his boys, not the wife he hadn’t fully divorced yet, but to his mother. Yelena rebuilt life on her own without a dime from him. She was doing well.”

  “The mother got everything?” I question, baffled.

  “Yeah, millions, brother, and not a single mention of his boys. And get this, the house fire started on the opposite end of the bedrooms, nobody can figure out why no one got out in time. It wasn’t some explosion. There was no reason for all of them to perish together. Only they did.”

  “Motherfucker,” I growl while Drea tenses in front of me.

  “Searched the financial records. Foreign transfers of funds, domestic wire transfers including three to Charlie Flint in Granville, Alabama. All the dates happen within a day or two of Andrea’s incidents, the mugging, the house, and the flowers. I’m guessing this is our guy.”

  “Gilly,” I say his name feeling like he’s about to deliver another blow.

  “The mother, Elise Holloway. She bought a plane ticket. Landed in Birmingham two hours ago and rented a car. It’s her and she’s closing in, Shamus. We gotta act fast.”

  “Church, call it. Get Skinny to pick up Drea’s mom. DJ and I are heading in with our women.”

  I click off the phone as I see DJ tossing boxes back inside the storage unit. I stand and help Drea to her feet.