Take Aim and Reload (Forgotten Rebels MC Book 3)

by Beth D. Carter

  “Smells good,” Heart said.

  Cherry looked over her shoulder. He was sitting up, rubbing the back of his neck as he stretched his muscles.

  “You slept deeply, which was probably a bad idea,” she murmured. “You might have a concussion.”

  “Nah, this old noggin is hard as concrete,” he replied. “I know what a concussion feels like, and this is just a little headache.”

  “How many concussions have you had?”

  “Just one,” he answered. “Back when I was in Afghanistan. Got caught in a skirmish and got knocked around.”

  That made her pause. “You were in the military?”

  “Yep. It’s a requirement for my club. I did two tours before I got out. Came home, joined The Forgotten Rebels.”

  Surely anyone who served their country wouldn’t be a bad guy. The thought rattled around in her head.

  “And where is home?”

  “Stevens. About two hours away, in the Bootheel.”

  She nodded. “I know where it’s at. My grandfather took me to Lake Wappapello on more than one occasion. He liked to fish.”

  “Yep,” he said. “Good fishin’ there. Especially if you like catfish.”

  She smiled, remembering. One trip their little boat had sprung a leak and she’d been terrified of sinking and having to swim. Lake Wappapello was a huge body of water with many islands in which poisonous snakes inhabited.

  “Well, no catfish in this stew,” she said. “Although don’t ask what meat it is. Either bunny or deer, not sure which. I just used what was in the freezer.”

  Heart raised a brow but didn’t question the food as he rose and hobbled over to prepare a plate for himself. Church banged through the door, rubbing her hands on a rag, not even bothering to wash them properly as she got a bowl and plopped some stew into it.

  The three of them sat on the various furniture and ate in silence. Cherry’s shoulders seemed permanently hunched from the thick tension coursing between all of them.

  “I can have your bike working by tomorrow,” Church suddenly said, breaking through the silence.

  “Won’t be able to ride with my knee,” he said. “But I thank you. I can call tomorrow and have a Brother come out to ride it back.”

  Church’s eyes snapped to his. “You wanna tell people where we are?”

  Heart’s brows creased together as he frowned. “Is that a problem?”

  “Yeah,” she said. “A big one. No one can know where we are. How about we just deposit you and your bike somewhere in Springfield and you can take it from there?”

  Heart looked quickly at Cherry, but she didn’t say anything.

  “All right,” Heart said slowly. “I suppose that’ll work. But can you tell me wh—?”

  “Good,” Church said, cutting him off. She stood up and walked over to the small sink where she placed her bowl inside. “Why don’t matter. I think that’s the best thing to do and I can even ride your bike so we don’t have to load it into the back of the truck.”

  He raised a brow. “It’s a big bike.”

  “And I’m a big girl. I’ll sleep in the barn tonight. Good night.”

  She walked out, leaving them alone. Heart turned to Cherry, a question in his dark eyes.

  “Why would it be best if no one knows where you are?”

  “It just is,” she said. She rose and turned her back in an effort to hide from the intensity radiating from him.

  “You’re in hiding.” It wasn’t a question.

  “I’m sorry you got involved,” she said quietly. “But Church is right. You’d be safer forgetting all about us.”

  “I’d be safer? Exactly what kind of trouble are you in, Cherry?”

  “The kind I can’t really talk about. But don’t worry, I have a plan. Tomorrow I hope to resolve all of this. You’ll get home, Church will be free, and I’ll have done something for good.”

  “Oh yeah? What’s this amazing plan?”

  She bit her lip. The little voice inside her head told her she could trust this man, but logic reminded her she’d only just met him.

  “You don’t trust me,” he said quietly.

  “I … I can’t trust anyone,” she admitted.

  “Is that you talkin’, or your sister?”

  Cherry sighed. “Does it really matter? After tomorrow I’ll be out of your life. End of story.”

  “Question is will I be seeing an obit for you in the paper?”

  He held out his hand to her. Cherry hesitated. The last time she had touched him her senses went haywire.

  Heart raised an eyebrow.

  Cherry rose and walked over to him before taking hold of his hand. He tugged her down to sit next to him. Hip to hip. Thigh to thigh. Her heart pounded with a mixture of excitement and a hormonal surge.

  “Why do I have this urge to protect you from any and all danger?” he asked. The question sounded more for himself instead of for her, so she didn’t bother to answer. He linked their fingers together. “Promise me you’ll be careful, whatever it is you’re running from.”

  “I can promise to be as careful as I can,” she said. “I don’t have a death wish.”

  “My club can help you—”

  “No, it can’t,” she said. She didn’t want him to even contemplate that gesture. “I’m not dumb, Heart. I know what being part of a motorcycle club entails.”

  “Oh? You’ve already judged me and my club?”

  “Tell me I’m wrong,” she challenged.

  He didn’t respond.

  “I don’t even know your real name,” she said softly.

  “Eric,” he replied. “Eric Wayne.”

  “Then, Eric, tomorrow you forget all about me, okay?”

  He shook his head no. The next moment, he cupped her face and leaned forward. His lips pressed against hers. Cherry’s brain fried instantly as his kissed her. The bristles of his beard and mustache were soft, tickling against her mouth. He didn’t try to deepen the kiss, and she appreciated the fact that he didn’t use her inexperience and hesitancy against her. After a moment, he pulled back. She opened her eyes and they stared at one another.

  “Don’t ask me to forget my angel,” he whispered.

  Her heart melted. Right then and there she began to fall for him in a big way. It wasn’t logical or practical, but she couldn’t deny it.

  “Okay,” she murmured, because she didn’t know what else to say.

  “Let’s get some sleep,” he said. “Sounds like we have a big day tomorrow.”

  Night came early in the Ozarks, and it didn’t take long for them to settle, although it took Cherry a long time to fall asleep since Heart’s presence a few feet away on the other couch caused the butterflies in her stomach to stay in flight.

  ****

  “I don’t like her riding my bike,” Heart muttered, for about the thousandth time.

  He kept looking out the side mirror to where Church sat astride his big bike and followed behind them in the truck.

  “She may look tiny, but her personality and attitude are humongous,” Cherry said. “She’ll take care of your motorcycle.”

  “You have to throttle through on turns,” he continued. “My bike is very temperamental.”

  “So is Church. They’ll get along fine.”

  He shot her a sardonic glance. “You’re always optimistic, aren’t you?”

  “I always think positively,” she corrected.

  “Is there a difference?”

  “Optimism is hope of something better. Being positive is belief it will be better.”

  He shook his head. “Semantics. But I’ll take your word in this case because your sister does seem as cankerous as my bike. Other than your appearance, you two don’t seem like twins.”

  “We used to be really close,” Cherry said.

  “What happened?”

  “I don’t know,” she admitted. “One day she just … changed. She no longer hugged me, touched me. She stopped saying she loved me. She chopped her
hair off and began sleeping at our grandfather’s garage. It was like she became a different person, and I didn’t know how to reach her anymore.”

  “Did she suffer any trauma?”

  Cherry shot him a surprised look. “What do you mean?”

  “Well, you’re describing the actions of someone who went through some type of emotional or physical abuse,” he said. “In the army, I read a lot on my downtime. There were a lot of self-help books.”

  “Wouldn’t she tell me if something happened to her?”

  He shook his head. “Not necessarily. Young people have a difficult time processing trauma. It’s possible the only way she could deal with it was by shutting it out. Or trying to erase what happened by erasing herself.”

  Cherry thought back to when Church changed, or at least, the moment when she noticed her sister’s behavior being different. It was right after Ricky disappeared. He’d been into the drugs that trafficked heavily through Springfield, and had many interventions between her, Church, and their grandfather. Then one day, he was gone, and Church had changed.

  “Our grandfather had taken in a runaway,” she said. “His name was Ricky. Church and I came to live with Paw Paw when we were about seven, and Ricky was eleven. We grew up together. The cabin was actually willed to him when Paw Paw died. Church got the garage and I got a small savings I used toward classes at the local community college. We continued to live together in the house in Springfield until Ricky disappeared.”

  “And that’s when she changed?”

  “Yeah,” Cherry said, thoughtfully. “We learned later that he’d died. Overdosed. I suppose it was because of Ricky that she changed.”

  “Not sure if that would constitute trauma,” he said.

  “What then, if not that?”

  He shrugged but didn’t answer, and the conversation died away. Springfield, Missouri, was caught between trying to be a big town yet didn’t have the oomph to actually accomplish the mission. Still, it was the third largest city in the state, with a population of about a hundred and fifty thousand, so it had the bad traffic and even worse drivers to go with it. As she slowed down for a red light, Church suddenly swerved around them and sped off through the light, causing two cars in the opposite lanes to slam on their brakes. Horns sounded but luckily, no one hit one another.

  “What the fuck?” Heart demanded.

  Cherry’s mouth dropped open.

  “She almost wrecked my bike!”

  They watched her until she turned onto a side street that led into a housing development.

  “Where the hell is she going?”

  “To the garage,” Cherry replied. The light turned green and she eased on the accelerator. “That road is a back-way.”

  She turned onto the same road, following. Ten minutes later, she saw Heart’s bike parked next at Woody’s Tavern. Church was nowhere in sight. Parking the truck next to the motorcycle, Cherry turned off the engine and turned to look at Heart.

  “Do you want to stay here?”

  “Why did your sister come here?”

  “Her garage is right there.” Cherry pointed down the hill. Even from here she could see remnants of the yellow crime scene tape used to section off the area from trespassers. After a month, however, the investigation must have waned because now the garage looked like a dilapidated shell of its former self. When her grandfather had owned it, the garage ran gas as well as work on all things mechanic. Church had taken the gas away and focused only on vehicles. Word of mouth had kept her garage busy.

  Cherry hoped that her sister could rebuild her business.

  “What happened to the windows?” Heart asked. Broken glass still lay shattered on the ground.

  “They were shot out,” she said.

  He raised his eyebrows. “More of that trouble you’re in, Cherry?”

  She bit her lip in an effort not to say anything, but Heart had other ideas. He used his thumb to rub her bottom lip, easing her teeth off the tender skin. Then he cupped her cheek.

  “Please trust me,” he murmured.

  She took a deep breath. “I took some information from my boss. Incriminating evidence that can put him in jail.”

  “I see,” he said. “And he wants this evidence back, I take it.”

  She nodded.

  “Can’t you simply go to the cops?”

  “Not that easy.”

  “It never is,” he replied with a grimace. “He pay the cops off?”

  “I don’t know who to trust,” she admitted. “I’m thinking the media is better in this circumstance. Give it to them, have them run with the news, and let the Feds take notice.”

  “This is gonna involve the Feds? Hell, what kind of evidence is it?”

  “It’s against Cabot Pharmaceuticals,” she said. Saying it out loud eased some of the weight off her shoulders. “Warren Cabot has been selling pseudoephedrine to this motorcycle club called The White Death, through some sort of dummy corporation called Complete Waste Services. I’ve got the documentation he’s doctoring all the paperwork.”

  Heart blinked. “Oh shit.”

  Chapter Four

  Cherry walked into Woody’s Tavern with Heart close on her heels. She blinked as she transitioned from the bright outside to the dim interior. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust, but once they did, she saw Church sitting at the bar. She was talking to the owner, to Woody himself. Cherry had only met the man once, and that was when Church had drank a little too much. Woody had called her to help her sister back to the garage. He was a tall, burly man, with silver hair and an unlit cigarette dangling from the side of his mouth. He looked up at her as she and Heart approached them.

  “Hello, Woody,” Cherry said.

  “Cherry,” Woody replied. His glance flickered quickly to Heart and back. “Need something to drink?”

  “No, I—”

  “Whiskey,” Heart interrupted. “Church is paying.”

  “Fuck you,” Church said.

  “On the house,” Woody said with a smirk. “She stole my truck, which leads me to believe she doesn’t have any cash.”

  “Smart man,” she replied.

  He turned away to get the drink.

  “Woody said you can stay here while you call and wait for your crew,” Church said. “We’re about two hours from Stevens, so try not to get blitzed while waiting for them.”

  “You’re just a big ball of sunshine, you know that?”

  Church flipped him off. Cherry rolled her eyes and saw Woody pick up the phone on the other side of the bar. She gestured for a soda and he nodded, holding up one finger to indicate he needed a moment.

  “You really think you two can bring down Warren Cabot?”

  The question not only startled her, but it had Church spinning on her seat to face him.

  “What did you say?” she demanded. He opened his mouth, but she held up a hand, halting him. Instead, she turned to look at Cherry. “You told him?”

  “I-I trust him.”

  “Trust him?” Church snorted. “What, he make your panties wet and suddenly you spew out your deep dark secrets?”

  “Stop it,” Cherry said.

  “No, Cherry, I won’t stop because this was something you were supposed to keep quiet about. He’s a biker.” She pointed to Heart. “Did it ever occur to you that he might actually know The White Death motorcycle club?”

  Ice surged through Cherry. No, it hadn’t occurred to her that Heart might know The White Death, and the ramifications of her lapse in judgment might just be the death sentence for both of them.

  “Enough,” Heart said, slicing through her panicked thoughts.

  “D-do you know them?” she asked, her voice quivering.

  “Yes,” he replied in a calm voice.

  Fear flooded through her and her knee-jerk reaction was to shuffle away from him. In her haste, however, she stumbled, but before she could fall, he pulled her close.

  “I’m not one of them, Cherry,” he continued. “Do you hear me?
I’m standing here with you, not them.”

  She wanted to believe him because she couldn’t imagine having these feelings for him if he turned out to be one of the bad guys. In the back of her mind was Ricky, and she tried hard to remember his face, but it was rapidly fading as it was replaced by the man in front of her. At that moment, Woody came over and placed two drinks down, a plastic cup filled with ice and soda and a tumble with a double whiskey.

  “On the house,” the bar owner said.

  Heart nodded his thanks and Woody moved away to clean some glasses.

  “Don’t hurt Church,” Cherry whispered. “You can do what you want to me, but she’s innocent.”

  “Darlin’, there’s not an innocent bone in that woman’s body,” he said.

  “I’m standing right here, asshole,” Church muttered.

  He ignored her. “Cherry, I’m not going to hurt you. Cross my heart. Hell, you probably saved my life because I wouldn’t have moved from that damn wreck if you hadn’t prodded me. Right now you need to get somewhere safe, and the only way to do that is if you turn in that evidence you say you have.”

  “And I bet you’ll be happy to take it off our hands, hmmm?” Church gave him a saccharine-sweet smile.

  Heart didn’t even bother to look at her. “Shut. Up.”

  She flipped him off, took his whiskey, and marched over to a table. Sitting down, she put her feet up on a nearby chair and watched them as she drank the alcohol.

  Heart focused his attention on Cherry. “Exactly what type of evidence do you have?”

  “Emails detailing shipments and meeting times,” she said quietly. “Inventories. Invoices. I only got a handful copied before I hightailed it out of there, but it’s enough to bring Cabot down.”

  “And take out The White Death.”

  She furrowed her brow. “Are they your friends?”

  “Personally, no, not really,” he said. “But my club has some business with them.”

  “So it goes against your better interest in helping me.”