Welcome To Redemption: Series Collection (Books 1-6)

by Donna Marie Rogers

  That’s right, he’d forgotten about his clothes. She was being nice while he’d immediately jumped to the wrong conclusions. His gaze fell to the scoop neck of her tank top and then jerked back to her face. “I’ll just stop by in the morning, if that’s okay.”

  “Fine.” She started to close her door.

  “Does it matter what time?”

  “Unless you want to join my family for a grill-Tara-as-she-pretends-to-enjoy-Sunday-breakfast, then I’d say anytime after eleven.” She slammed the door without waiting for a reply.

  Amazingly, family breakfast sounded quite nice to Wes—minus the grilling, of course.

  Chapter 7

  Tara glared at Charlie as she lifted her first steaming cup of coffee for a cautious sip. If only it were the last one of the morning, then she could be on the way home instead of having this conversation about Wes with her overbearing family. It didn’t matter anyway, he didn’t want her, but she wasn’t about to let them know that. She’d keep that hurt to herself.

  “Did you know he’s in a gang?” Charlie asked as if he’d been waiting for just the right moment to drop that little bomb.

  She gulped her coffee and burned her tongue.

  “A gang?” her dad roared.

  Even her mom paused.

  Charlie nodded as he spread jam on his toast. “From Detroit.”

  “He said that?” Tara demanded, trying hard not to let anyone know her mouth was on fire. “He actually came out and told you?” She took a long drink of cold orange juice.

  Charlie shrugged, confident in the support he had from their father. “He claims he left, but he’s still got the tatt, and you know what they say…”

  “He lives in Denver—I saw his driver’s license,” Tara argued, even as she pictured every intricate detail of the dragon on Wes’s shoulder. A gang tattoo.

  “You can take the boy out of the gang, but you can never really take the gang out of the boy,” her dad prophesized in a low tone.

  Tara thought about the way Wes had handled Kenny and Adam. She pictured the scar she’d glimpsed on his back and wondered if it was from a bullet. And if it was, fresh-looking as it’d been, maybe he hadn’t left the gang as he’d told Charlie.

  I’m not that nice…There’s a lot you don’t know about me...

  Tara shook off her doubt. No, she couldn’t be wrong about him. Or…was it that she didn’t want to be wrong?

  “I don’t want you seeing this guy again,” her father stated.

  She glanced at her mom, who usually stuck up for her but had kept quiet so far this morning. Jackie met her gaze. “We don’t want you getting mixed up with trouble, honey.”

  Her soft tone implied what none of them would ever say. Like Annabel.

  Tara fought frustration. She wasn’t Annabel and Wes wasn’t trouble. They’d met him for all of two minutes; they didn’t get to know him as she—

  She stopped that train of thought and reminded herself that she didn’t really know Wes that well, either, no matter what she felt when she was with him. Especially considering that all the while she’d tingled from what she thought was an undercurrent of sizzling, mutual attraction, he simply thought of her as ‘nice’. She’d felt like a complete idiot for throwing herself at him only to have him push her away.

  “He’s a lying piece of dirt,” Charlie muttered around a bite of bacon. “Telling me you aren’t his type but then I find out he went back to the fair with you.”

  Tara sat up straighter. “What?”

  Charlie drank half of his glass of milk before pointing his fork at her. “He told me you were ‘nice and all’, but not his type, then he goes and gets all cozy with you at the fireworks. I warned him once, next time I’m just going to bust his nose.”

  “There’s not going to be a next time,” her father stated, but Tara only half-listened as she suddenly wondered if ‘nice’ meant boring. Not his type? So, what was his type? By his own admittance, he’d pretty much done whatever he wanted growing up, with whomever he wanted, and now she found out he’d been in a gang. She supposed it wasn’t hard to see how a small-town girl like herself wouldn’t hold much appeal compared to the worldly women he must be used to.

  She wondered what he’d say if he knew she had her own Harley in her garage. Of course she rarely rode it anymore, but still…she had a Harley—that had to count for something, right? She could be worldly.

  “Did you hear me?”

  Tara flinched as her dad’s voice cut into her thoughts. “What?”

  “I said, I forbid you to see that man again.”

  Tara took a moment to process her dad’s edict. Then she carefully set her fork down and lowered her hand to her lap to clench her fingers in her napkin. This had gone far enough, them telling her what she could or could not do every time she turned around. She wasn’t some sixteen-year-old child to be locked away in a glass—

  I think it would be nice, knowing someone cares that much.

  Wes’s wistful words echoed in her head, and Tara took a deep breath, then another. Okay, fine. She’d give them the benefit of the doubt, the same as she would Wes’s past. One more calming breath, and she summoned a fairly natural feeling smile.

  “I love you, too, Dad.”

  They all stared at her as if she’d gone crazy, and when she considered what she planned to do, she figured they were probably right.

  ***

  Catching the edge of her inside door as Sugar pushed past, Tara jabbed the garage door opener, then tugged her top back into place. The zippered black leather vest went perfect with her dark hair and the tattoos that hadn’t begun to wear off yet—thanks to the baby powder she’d dusted on her arms after her shower. Due to the summer heat, she’d donned a short pair of cut-off jeans, but then wondered if her calf-high leather boots were too much and opted for barefoot with a fresh coat of burgundy polish on her toenails.

  It was ten-thirty, she’d sexed herself up as much as she dared between the clothes, a messy ponytail, and extra makeup, and now she had no time to lose taking her bike apart before Wes showed up for his suit that hung, pressed and bagged, in the house. Well, not completely apart, just enough to install the new shocks Charlie had picked up for her a couple months ago after he’d taken it for a ride to run the engine.

  With any luck, Wes would offer to help when he arrived, and she could figure out if this version of her was any less boring than last night’s version of her—in his opinion, anyway.

  She cast a nervous look out the open garage and down the street, both to make sure Wes wasn’t early and that her parents and Charlie hadn’t decided to cancel their weekly bike ride. Safe on both counts, she made sure Sugar was nearby, then put her bike up on the lift. She hadn’t worked on a bike in forever—since moving out of her parents’ house, come to think of it—but it was just like riding a pedal bike, you never forgot how.

  All the nights working in the garage with her dad and brother after Annabel’s death flooded back, and she paused with the memory. They’d talked for hours while taking apart and rebuilding bikes, old and new, but never about what happened. And two years ago, after the two of them chased away the third boyfriend in a row, Tara had had enough of the silence and moved to her own house to live her own life.

  She hadn’t looked back, especially when her dad and Charlie had gotten worse instead of better with their overprotective ways. Thinking about it now from Wes’s perspective, she felt a small pang for the times she’d undoubtedly missed with them the last two years. It was nice to have someone who cared, she admitted, but why couldn’t she convince them to trust her judgment?

  Locating the correct hex head wrench to loosen the bolt on the upper shocks, Tara found herself thinking of Wes and what he’d said last night about his mother not caring about what he did. And his dad…God, she couldn’t even imagine. Much as her dad bothered her at times, she couldn’t imagine having grown up without him. The gang must’ve been the only family Wes had known, and she didn’t blame him for
wanting to belong somewhere. At that age, he wouldn’t have known any better. How admirable that he’d risen above that to build his own business. She wanted to know a man with that strength of character.

  It didn’t take long to get the old shocks off on the first side and as she reached for the new part, Sugar came nosing over and licked her leg. Sitting on the cement floor, surrounded by tools, bike parts, and cleaner, Tara could only shift her knee away from the dog’s tongue.

  Most of the time, Tara didn’t mind watching the Great Dane while Charlie had fun, but most days she didn’t have Westin Carter coming over, either. Not that she’d had a choice, if she’d protested against dog-sitting this morning, then Charlie would’ve stayed home, and that wouldn’t have worked—especially after her father had forbid her to see Wes again. She still couldn’t believe that one.

  After another tongue swipe, Tara commanded, “Sugar, sit down.”

  She did, then reached forward and licked the side of Tara’s face with a soft whine. Tara jerked her head back, squeezing her eyes shut with a disgusted sound. After wiping her face, she set down the wrench in her hand and reached up to put a hand on either side of the dog’s face. Holding her still, Tara looked straight into the animal’s brown eyes.

  “I’m gonna need you to be nice to Wes—not lunatic dog nice—just Good Dog nice, okay? Think you can do that for me, sweetie?”

  Sugar barked in her face, making her ears ring as it echoed in the garage.

  Psycho dog, Tara thought with a grimace. She pushed her away, turning her face in the opposite direction to find Wes leaning casually against the frame of her garage door, watching them. Her gaze locked with his for a heart-stopping moment, and everything else faded away.

  “Good morning,” he said with a slight smile.

  At the sound of his deep voice, Sugar spun in frantic excitement and crossed the floor faster than Tara’s pulse shot into overdrive. She pushed to her feet, while Wes straightened as the dog bounded for him.

  “Down!” His firm command stopped Sugar from taking that last leap at his chest.

  When Sugar did as instructed, Wes stared hard at her. He dropped the Tee shirt, jeans, and shoes that Tara just now noticed he held against his hip, then leaned to rough the sides of the dog’s neck with a quick smile.

  “Good girl.”

  Sugar attempted to return his praise with a slobbery kiss under his chin, but he straightened just in time to avoid the tongue. His attention shifted back to Tara. She bit her lip, remembered she had lipstick on, and returned his greeting from a moment ago with a smile. When his gaze slid down to take in her fitted leather vest, shorts and bare legs, her heart pounded and she had to turn around. She could do this, she just had to pretend she didn’t feel like an idiot in the low-cut leather top. She had to wear it like she meant it.

  “Nice bike,” he commented, his tone truly admiring as he stepped inside the garage with Sugar prancing on his heels. “Yours?”

  “Yeah.” Tara couldn’t figure out what to do with her hands, so she bent to pick up the bolts that connected the shocks to the bike, pulled a cloth from her back pocket, and began cleaning them.

  “What are you doing to it?” Wes asked, walking around to the opposite side as he looked at the Sportster’s sleek lines.

  “Changing the shocks.” She cast a sideways glance to find his gaze on her. He quickly transferred his attention back to the bike. Tara allowed a small smile. Good so far. “Since Charlie needed someone to watch Sugar, I figured I’d get started while I waited for you.” She looked outside as something occurred to her. “I didn’t even hear a car.”

  “I walked.”

  He leaned to run his fingers along the leather seat. Tara drank in the sight of him in a tight white tee shirt, blue jeans and brown boots and wondered how his touch would feel skimming her skin.

  His gaze rose to hers, lingering on the way up before meeting her eyes. “How’s it going?”

  She lifted a shoulder, striving for casual in the face of his perusal. “I’ll know once I put it back together and take it for a ride.” She waited a beat, then set the bolts down, and wiped her hands. “Your things are inside, I’ll be right back.”

  She could swear she felt his heated gaze again as she crossed to the door of the house, and had to remember to breathe once she passed out of his line of sight. Yesterday he’d told Charlie she wasn’t his type, yet today…today definite interest darkened those light blue eyes of his. So similar to what she’d glimpsed a few times yesterday, but about ten times hotter and light years away from bored.

  Gathering his suit in her arms, she hoped she had the guts to pull the act off. If Wes wanted a wordly woman, could she follow through with more than just appearances? He might just take the suit and leave; she had to be prepared for that. Biker chick or not, she wasn’t about to put herself out there again like she had last night. She’d take her cues from him and see where he took it from here.

  Wes was hunkered down next to the Harley with Sugar sitting next to him when Tara returned to the garage. Another good sign. He shifted toward her when she closed the door, but he didn’t quite look at her.

  “You actually know what you’re doing here?” he asked with a trace of skepticism. The cool tone of his voice doused her good spirits.

  “I wouldn’t have started if I didn’t.” She lifted the suit by the hanger with one finger. “For some reason the cuff buttons were both missing on your shirt, but I sewed on some new ones, so it’s good as new.”

  He glanced up again before rising to his feet in one lithe movement. Relieving her of the garment, he held it out as she had, inspecting it. “Thank you.”

  “Believe me, it’s the least I could do,” she assured him with a wry smile.

  Wes didn’t reply and still didn’t look at her. Tara stood there for a moment, then felt like an idiot and decided to get back to work on the bike. He was a big boy, he’d make up his own mind without an invitation from her. Between the kiss last night and her clothes this morning, the situation ought to be pretty darn clear.

  She checked that the bolts were clean, then picked up one of the new shocks. Over her shoulder, she commented, “Someone either went shopping this morning, or…”

  “The airline delivered my luggage about nine.”

  Tara nodded, fitting the part where it belonged. She desperately tried to come up with something else to say as the silence stretched. She took a breath to ask what he planned for the rest of the day when he said, “Well, I guess I should be going.”

  He sounded…reluctant. She turned around, wondering if his eyes would be that amazing, intense color like before, but his attention focused on something outside, not her. The sudden realization that he looked bored, not reluctant, sent disappointment spiraling through her.

  She forced a smile into her voice. “Have a nice day.” Geez, now she not only felt like an idiot, but she sounded like one, too.

  “You, too.” He walked toward the door with his suit slung over his shoulder. “Your brother’s things are over here.”

  “I saw them, thanks.”

  She concentrated on the bike and securing the wrench around the bolt, unable to watch him leave because she felt a ridiculous prick of tears. So he wasn’t interested in today’s version of her any more than yesterday’s. Big deal. She’d only just met the man, it wasn’t like they’d had a relationship for her to cry over.

  But it felt like he was walking out of her life for good, and even more outrageous than the tears, Tara couldn’t shake the feeling that she would lose the best thing that’d ever happened to her.

  Why couldn’t she ask him to stay? The worst he’d say is no, and leave anyway. She blinked a few times to bring the wrench in her hand back into focus and took a deep breath to shore up her courage.

  Wes spoke before she could. “Maybe I’ll see you around town sometime.”

  That hit home for Tara. Vague, casual, and so similar to what other guys had said to her over the years after a few date
s. It was nice meeting you…I had fun, but…Take care, have a nice life. The rejection stung worse than ever, and she wondered why he didn’t just leave.

  “Sure,” she responded with a hint of sarcasm. “We can reminisce about Sugar puking on you.”

  The dog trotted over and nosed her elbow. Don’t look. Just let him leave. Tara gripped the wrench handle tighter. Despite all her efforts, she still snuck a look, only to discover him gone. Story of her life—guys not hanging around for long. The wrench slipped on the bolt head, and she smacked her knuckles against the fender strut as the tool clanged to the floor.

  “Ow,” she exclaimed with more force than warranted. Frustration got the better of her, and she shoved away from the bike with a few choice curse words while trying to shake the pain away. “Gol-dammit, son-of-a-bitch.”

  “Are you okay?”

  Tara jerked around to see Wes striding toward her. “I’m fine.” She was annoyed with herself for losing her temper and really hated that he’d just witnessed the tantrum.

  He tossed the garment bag over the seat of her bike and reached for her hand. As he surveyed her scraped knuckles, the warmth of his touch radiated up her arm and started to spread.

  “Really, it’s nothing.” She pulled free, stepped back, and reached to rub a sudden itch on her nose. After picking up the wrench she’d dropped, she removed his suit from the bike and handed it back to him. “I thought you left.”

  “I was—I did.”

  A sideways glance caught him watching her with heat in his eyes again, and she turned back to the bike in confusion. His signals were all over the darn place, and she had no clue how to proceed. He talked like he wasn’t interested, but looked like he’d kiss her if she offered again. Tempting as his mouth was, no way was she going there again without him initiating contact.

  He hung his suit on the shelf bracket next to the garage door before returning to stand on the opposite side of the Harley from her. He hunched down for a closer look. “Did you change this side already?”