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

by Donna Marie Rogers

  She glanced at his arm where his shirtsleeve concealed the dragon tattoo, then down the street toward her parents’ house, and finally back to his face. “You know your way around a bike?”

  “I learn fast.”

  She tempered the flare of delight that he’d come back to stay and held his gaze. Now that he’d made his decision without any direct help from her, she had other questions.

  “Charlie says you’re in a gang.”

  Wes’s entire body went rigid but he didn’t move from his position. “Wrong tense,” he clipped out. “I left eight years ago.”

  “He doesn’t believe you.”

  His gaze dropped, and she saw his Adam’s apple bob. “Do you?”

  She believed him so completely that it scared her, because she should be more careful. She couldn’t totally rely on this feeling in her heart that he was one of the good guys. That he was the guy. She took a deep breath. “The scar on your back looked pretty new.”

  His head jerked up, and she saw surprise in his eyes.

  “You were walking around half-naked yesterday, remember?”

  “It’s new.”

  He held her steady gaze, without defensiveness or anger. Even though he didn’t explain further, his expression of open honesty filled her with a sense of trust. She handed him the wrench over the seat between them. His slight smile told her he recognized the gesture for the unspoken show of faith as she intended.

  Yet she noticed he swallowed hard again while he worked on loosening bolts. His nervousness prompted her to press deeper, to see if he would indeed answer her questions.

  “Is that one of those things I don’t want to know about you?”

  He looked up for a few seconds, then returned his attention to the bike without answering. It wasn’t fast enough that she felt he was hiding anything, so she dropped the subject and found another nine-sixteenths wrench to continue securing the new shock on her side.

  “The cops said I was in the wrong place at the wrong time,” he answered a few minutes later. “But if the bullet had hit its intended target, she probably would’ve died. I’m still here.” Tara was processing that information when he added, “Evened up the score some, I guess.”

  Having consciously decided she trusted him only moments earlier, his last words were a shock. Her hands stilled with a chilling thought. “You’ve…never actually…”

  “Killed someone?” He met her gaze but gave her the chance to correct his guess. When she remained silent, he continued in a firm tone. “No. I got out before I was forced to make that choice with the pressure of the gang behind me. But, all the same, I did a lot of things I’m not proud of.”

  Thank God—about the first, not the second. She brushed at the annoying itch on her nose again.

  “You don’t plan on repeating the past, do you?”

  He frowned across the bike seat at her. “Of course not. I’m not the same person I was in back then.”

  “Then move on.”

  He rested his forearm on his knee and stared her down. “How about you ignore your dad and brother.”

  He had her there. “Okay, so maybe it’s not that easy.”

  “And I rest my case.”

  They shared a brief smile despite the serious subject matter. Tara didn’t pry any further, she simply enjoyed the comfortable silence that fell and remained, except for the once or twice he asked for direction. Wes hadn’t lied about being a fast study, and he did a great job, too. She wiped her hands and stuffed the rag in her back pocket after showing Wes how to lower the bike lift.

  “Thanks for the help.”

  He moved to her side of the bike to put the tools away. “No problem. Now what?”

  “I’ll take her out, see how she rides.”

  “And what, I watch you drive away? That hardly seems fair.”

  Tara put a hand on her hip and bit back a pleased smile. “If you want a ride, Wes, just say so.”

  His grin tripped her heart. “I want a ride.”

  “Okay.”

  He stepped closer and reached an arm around her to pull the grease rag from her back pocket. His bare arm brushed hers, but she had no time to react to the electric tingle before he lifted the cloth toward her face.

  When she drew back, he admonished, “Hold still, you have dirt on your nose.”

  Tara’s breath hitched as their eyes locked and his masculine scent enveloped her. Awareness fanned through her entire body.

  “I had an itch,” she murmured. His mouth lifted on one side, and she asked, “What?”

  “Nothing.” Wes shifted, gently wiped the side of her nose one last time, and lowered his hand to his side. “When I was little, my grandma used to say that when your nose itches, you’re about to kiss a fool.”

  His gaze dropped to her lips.

  Her heart thudded faster. She tilted her head and gave him the best teasing smile she could muster with her heart beating a hundred miles per hour. “Are you a fool, Wes?”

  Chapter 8

  A thousand times over.

  Wes stepped back from the temptation of Tara, gripping the cloth in his fist. “No.”

  Disappointment flashed in her eyes, but her smile remained. “So, basically, that leaves me with Sugar.”

  Wes couldn’t help but laugh then. Every once in awhile, she threw one out there that caught him off guard. At the sound of her name, the dog scrambled to her feet from where she’d been laying on the doormat and came over to beg for attention.

  Wes rubbed her head, and to take his mind off kissing Tara, he asked, “So, are we going to go for that ride now, or what?”

  “Sure, unless you want some lunch first?”

  “I had a late breakfast.”

  “Me too.” She headed for the house. “Let me change into jeans and then…shoot.” She sighed as she looked down at the dog from the steps. “I can’t leave Sugar.”

  “Didn’t you say she’s your brother’s dog?” Wes asked. “How is it you seem to have her more than him?”

  “Just on the weekends—he takes her to a sitter during the week while he’s working.”

  Now he’d heard it all. “Doggie day care?”

  She laughed. “Believe it or not, it’s a good business. You know what, give me a few minutes—I’ll see what I can come up with.”

  He watched her go inside, appreciating the view, yet thinking that he should give her an hour, the whole afternoon, her entire life even.

  He never should’ve stayed, especially when he hadn’t been able to control his emotions from the moment he set eyes on her an hour ago. Her long expanse of smooth, bare leg and that leather top had incinerated all his good intentions to take his suit and leave. When she’d mentioned changing into a pair of jeans, he’d been relieved and disappointed at the same time.

  Yet it wasn’t only about his intense physical reactions. Something about her drew him, an invisible thread that seemed to wind tighter with every moment he spent in her presence. He was drawn to her in a way that was completely foreign. He’d told her about his mom and dad less than twenty-four hours after meeting her, and he never talked about them to anyone. What was so different about Tara that he’d opened up to her?

  As much as he tried to tell himself she didn’t fit his plan, he was having a hell of a time fighting his attraction to her. A wry smile lifted his lips. Who was he trying to kid? He wasn’t fighting anything—not very hard, at least. He pretty much forgot the plan around Tara.

  Exactly the reason he should stay away from her. Take his suit and leave.

  Sugar nudged his hand. When he looked down, she dropped a tennis ball at his feet, backed up, and barked. Wes bent to pick it up and motioned outside. “All right, let’s go.”

  Even the dog was beginning to grow on him.

  They were out on the front lawn when the sound of a motorcycle reached Wes’s ears from down the block. Sugar switched from running after Wes’s last throw to make a beeline for the road. Afraid she wouldn’t stop at the sidewalk, W
es called, “Sugar, get the ball!”

  She spun toward Wes, then the road.

  “Get the ball, girl.”

  The Gread Dane tore after the ball, her tongue lolling out the side of her mouth. Once she had it though, she started back for the road.

  “Bring it here,” Wes called. “Come on, Sugar…good girl.”

  Wes smiled as she bounded back and forth, clearly torn between the approaching motorcycle and his praise. He bent down, patting his knees until finally, she raced to him and he could catch her collar as she dropped the ball. She almost pulled him off his feet when the bike slowed its approach to Tara’s house.

  Wes braced himself as the dog went wild—whining, pulling, turning to lick him, then straining harder against his grip. He didn’t let go until the motorcycle stopped in the driveway and the rider removed his helmet, not that there was any doubt in his mind who it was.

  Charlie swung a leg over the bike to greet his dog, then strutted toward Wes. Instinctively, Wes straightened and met the guy’s gaze dead on. Tara’s brother didn’t scare him, but judging by the look on his face, Wes needed to be prepared.

  “Clearly, you didn’t get the message last night,” Charlie ground out.

  “Tara’s old enough to make up her own mind.”

  “Tara’s got no clue when it comes to guys like—”

  The front screen door banged open. “Charles!”

  Charlie’s attention jerked toward Tara’s furious voice, and he took a step back as she advanced off the porch. Wes looked too, noting in a quick sweep that she’d kept the mind-boggling leather top but added a pair of jeans and some black biker boots. Between the leather, her tattoos, now braided hair and murder flashing in her eyes, she was something to behold. When she stepped between the two of them and faced her brother, Wes actually felt sorry for the guy.

  “I’m glad you’re here,” she said. Her calm tone shocked Wes, and Charlie, too, if his expression were any indication. “Wes and I were just about to go for a ride. You can take Sugar home with you, now.”

  Charlie’s eyes narrowed. “You’re not going anywhere with him.”

  “It’s none of your business, Charlie.”

  She glared at her brother, and Wes noticed Charlie’s gaze flick to the side, then back to his sister. She turned to Wes. “Ready to go?”

  Her brown eyes beseeched him to back her up, so he nodded. “Whenever you are.”

  “Tara, didn’t you hear Dad this morning?” Charlie asked.

  Tara whipped around so fast her long braid thumped against Wes’s chest.

  “Oh, I heard him,” she snapped. “Every ridiculous, outdated, overbearing word that wouldn’t have even made sense ten years ago.” She pushed past him toward the garage. Wes started to follow, but Charlie sidestepped and blocked his path.

  “Charlie,” Tara called, “you might want to get Sugar off the road.”

  Charlie’s head swiveled around. He cursed under his breath at the sight of Sugar in the middle of the street and pointed a finger at Wes as he backed away. “I’m warning you, don’t go with her.”

  “There’s a car coming.”

  A string of expletives poured from Charlie’s mouth as he took off toward the street. Wes made out something about dogs and sisters before Tara’s Harley roared to life and she met him in the driveway. She shoved a helmet into his chest with one hand and revved the engine with the other.

  “What exactly did your dad say?” Wes asked as he pulled the helmet on.

  Tara pointed to her own protective headgear and shook her head. He sighed, buckled the chinstrap, and swung a leg over the bike behind her while putting a restraining hand over hers on the throttle. What was he getting himself into?

  Pressing his chest against her back, he leaned as close as their two helmets allowed and shouted, “What did your dad say?”

  She laughed and turned her head slightly. “He forbade me to see you again. Now, hang on.”

  She revved the gas again, only this time the bike jerked forward and Wes made a frantic grab for her hips as they shot out of the driveway. He caught a brief glimpse of Charlie’s furious expression before they thundered past him and Sugar and headed out of town.

  Well, if his plan had included making an enemy in his new hometown, looked like he was right on track.

  As they wound through the countryside, Wes found himself exhilarated and nervous at the same time. Though Tara handled the Harley with ease, and the new shocks provided a smooth ride, she drove a little too fast for his comfort. On one particular sharp curve, he leaned to the inside with her but couldn’t keep his grip from tightening on her waist as the ground sped by at an alarming rate.

  As soon as they rounded the turn, she slowed the bike and called back over her shoulder, “Sorry.”

  Conversation was hard even at the slower speed, but Wes’s mind spun about a hundred miles an hour. Her father had outright ordered her not to see him again, and yet here they were, touring Wisconsin farm fields. Was that what this was all about? Defying her father? He felt a prick of disappointment, but pushed it away.

  After another ten minutes, Tara turned the bike around and headed back toward town. Wes straightened in surprise when she braked to a sudden stop. Turning her head so he’d hear her, she pointed to the sky. “Looks like we might get a little wet.”

  Dark clouds were but a few minutes from blocking out the early afternoon sunlight, and in the distance, lightning streaked toward the ground every couple seconds. Very faintly, over the noise of the Harley, Wes heard the muted rumble of thunder.

  “Where in the world did that come from?”

  She lifted her shoulders. “The forecast on Wednesday didn’t call for rain today.”

  He stared at the side of her helmet in disbelief. “It’s Sunday.”

  She turned her head farther, and he saw creases by her eyes, indicating a smile. “Yeah…things may have changed since then.”

  “Ya think?”

  A louder, more ominous rumble of thunder underscored his sarcasm. Tara laughed as though she hadn’t a care in the world, and at that moment, Wes figured getting wet was worth it. Still, he couldn’t help laying on a little guilt for her sass.

  “I’m running out of clothes, you know.”

  She revved the gas, giving him a three second warning before they took off toward the heart of the storm. Getting a little wet was one thing, but Wes wasn’t prepared for the downpour that drenched them and forced Tara to slow the bike substantially. A fierce wind drove the rain sideways, making the raindrops feel like needles pricking his bare arms. He would’ve offered to drive to shield Tara from the wind, but she had far more experience than him.

  Not that it mattered anyway since the wind kept shifting and the cold rain came at them from a new direction every few minutes. Finally, he slid his body tight up against her and wrapped his arms around her waist. She stiffened at first, but as heat built between his chest and her back, his arms and her stomach, she relaxed into him. Wes enjoyed the remainder of the ride back to town, watching the awesome fury of the storm as it ravaged the earth around them.

  She was on the main road that led past his hotel when a bolt of lightning appeared to strike a transformer half a block ahead of them. Sparks rained down, and after a reflexive jerk, Tara regained control and brought the bike to a stop. With his heart thumping, Wes reached around her shoulder to point toward the Rykers Inn. She nodded, so he held up his fingers to indicate room twenty-one. She parked in front of the door and cut the engine.

  When she slid off the bike, cool air rushed in against his chest, raising goose bumps on his arms. She removed her helmet and started toward the door before he even swung his leg over the seat. He hurried through the rain after her, undoing his chinstrap as he caught up at the motel overhang. Wes tucked the helmet under his arm to fish out his key card. He happened to catch her eye, but then she glanced away.

  “Seemed like a good idea to get off the road,” he explained to ease her apparent unease
while waiting for the light to blink green.

  “Yeah, it stopped being fun about fifteen minutes and ten degrees ago.”

  Her teeth chattered as he held open the door and waited for her to enter first. Wes closed the door and turned, trying to put the thought that they were in his motel room out of his mind. She stood next to the king sized bed, rubbing her arms and looking miserable. Feeling like a jerk, Wes gathered his wits and quickly grabbed a couple towels from the bathroom. He played it safe by tossing one to her instead of walking close to hand it her.

  “Thank you.” She wiped her face, down her slender neck, and started toweling her arms.

  He focused his attention outside and ran his own towel over his wet neck. “It’s not letting up out there, is it?”

  “I should’ve checked the weather,” she said, walking to the window.

  “Don’t worry about it. We’ll just wait out the storm here for awhile.”

  She faced him as another flash of lightening lit the sky behind her. “You sure you don’t mind?”

  “Of course not.”

  The shiver that shook her slim shoulders reminded him that despite the towels, they were both soaked to the skin. He reached into the small closet to pull out a dry shirt before digging through his suitcase for a pair of sweats for her. “If you want to change first, there’s a laundry room where I can throw our things in a dryer.”

  “You don’t have to ask me twice.”

  She accepted the clothes he held out and started to walk past. In the process of turning back to get dry clothes for himself, Wes did a double take and reached out to catch Tara’s arm.

  “What the heck is this?”

  Chapter 9

  Tara followed Wes’s surprised gaze to her arm and saw the rain and scrubbing she’d done with the towel had worn half her barbed wire tattoo away. Darn it, so much for her tough exterior. Heat flooded her cheeks and she gave him a sheepish grin.

  “They’re airbrushed.”

  “All of them? You mean none of them are real?” He sounded chagrined.