Scarred: The Ruthless Rebels MC Series Book 3

by Michele, Ryan

  Mush.

  My insides are all melty at his sincerity.

  “What are we doing, Whitton?”

  He never wavers in his eyes on mine. “Never had a relationship before, Roe.”

  “And you’re not about to start now,” I interrupt him as my stomach churns painfully, knowing I won’t have the answers I seek. “I remember you telling me the same thing once before.”

  He moves, and it startles me. With him standing and me sitting, he is massive as he reaches into his back pocket for his wallet.

  Flipping it open, he reaches for a worn paper and tosses it to me.

  Delicately, as if it’s a snake going to strike, I pick up the item in front of me. It’s a picture.

  Faded, torn, and taped, it’s a photograph.

  Of me.

  In profile, my hair is up in a loose up-do and my face is framed in tendril curls. The color has faded, but my expression is visible.

  Longing.

  “I took this from the sidewalk in front of your house. You sat in your bedroom window wondering that night if you would indeed be going to prom alone.”

  I remember. Tears prick the back of my eyelids threatening to spill over.

  “I told you I couldn’t take you. Told you I’d be there to send you off with your friends, take pics and shit.”

  I nod, unable to speak.

  “Saved up for this piece of shit camera with film all so I could have a full roll of pictures of you for myself. You didn’t see me, but I saw you. I saw the desire, the longing in your features from the sidewalk. Immediately, I snapped the picture.”

  “You took me to prom,” I say at a whisper.

  “Didn’t plan on it, Roe. Saw you in that window, knew what you wanted, and I couldn’t be the reason you were left empty on your prom night. So fuckin’ beautiful, no reason for you to be longing. Took off to the Browns’ and borrowed the suit from Mr. George. Even had him help me with the damn tie. Ms. Doris went outside and made a corsage out of a rosebush from the backyard.”

  “You showed up,” I smile, remembering how shocked I was when he was actually dressed to take me. He was so handsome in his suit, even with the tie a little crooked, I knew I was in love with Whitton Thorne. The kind of love that runs deep.

  Soul burning, toe curling, mess up your head because your heart is too far gone to ever turn back kind of love.

  “I showed up. I can’t deny you.” The honesty in his voice, the sincerity in his features, and the passion in his eyes tell me I have as much power over him as he does me.

  One question still burns, though. “Then why did you leave me?” I ask just as our food is placed in front of us. I feel the weight of the world as I wait for his answer.

  “Had those pictures developed a while after our prom night fun. Got that one, cut it out, tucked it in my wallet. Went to see you.”

  I nod remembering, he brought me the pictures I ended up taking all night with his camera. I never knew he took this one though.

  “I know what happened next, Whitt. I gave you me, all of me, and you left me.”

  “You laid beside me, peaceful, beautiful. Best fuckin’ moment of my fucked up life was right then. For the first time I felt peace, comfort, and happiness. When I left, I expected to come back. Waylon, he needed me. You know he called. He needed back up or he was going to fuck up his whole damn life.” He sighs, and I can feel the burden he’s lived with all this time.

  “Always your brother’s keeper,” I mutter suddenly, too full of emotions to eat the meal in front of me.

  “I looked at that picture before I left. I never wanted to be the one to leave you longing again. I was barely an adult. The Browns’ were kind enough to let Waylon and I stay even though we were over eighteen. I had so much shit to sort. My life was a mess, except with you. I couldn’t let any of this touch you. I wouldn’t let the evil that surrounds me touch you. I wouldn’t be the cause of long-term longing. I thought I could leave and you would find someone who would give you smiles, a lifetime of laughter.”

  “A picture says a thousand words, Whitton. This picture does say longing, but you never asked me what I was thinking when I sat at that window.”

  “Well,” he prompts for me to tell him.

  “In that moment, I was ready to conquer the world … with you. I was ready to leave Blakely, Georgia, my family, my friends behind because, Whitton Thorne, I knew you’d never stay here. I knew you were destined for greater things than this small town could give, and I wanted to be by your side when you figured out you aren’t evil. You aren’t tainted like your mother told you. You may be scarred but there is so much goodness deep in your soul, it couldn’t be contained and explodes out of you. Every step you take has always been one where everyone else close to you comes first.”

  “Loved you then, Roe,” he says, stopping me. “Loved you fuckin’ with everything.”

  “Loved you then, Whitton.” I pause and look him in the eye. “Thing we gotta sort, though, do you love me now, Whitt?” I raise up my hand. “Food’s getting cold.”

  I don’t want him to answer. Not right this moment. I want something more than a fleeting moment, more than a quick response.

  I lift the picture and hand it back to him. “I’m not that girl anymore. I’m strong, I’m good on my own. You need to take your time and ask yourself do you love me now?”

  Chapter 16

  Sortin’ shit is a job all it’s own!

  I blink. I blink again.

  I wait for the feeling. The churning of my gut. I pause, looking for it, searching for it. The acid is there, but it’s not. Roe’s brown hair is spread over my chest as she hums slowly, waking up.

  Full.

  I feel full. Not the normal ready to burst, jump up and puke last night into the toilet. I feel calm, peaceful, and in no rush.

  “Fuckin’ beautiful,” I mutter exactly what comes to mind, watching the sway of her hips as she heads to the bathroom. Dinner went well, considering so much time has passed between us. Another night with her in my arms and me in her bed, another night I’m left wondering if I’m strong enough to leave her again.

  The truth is harsh. I’m tough as nails. I can kill without hesitation. Punish without pause. Can I leave Blakely, Georgia again when everything that means anything to me is all that is Roelyn Duprey?

  “Good morning, Whitton,” she purrs before closing the door, and I have to tell my morning wood it’s not sliding into home this morning because there is work to be done.

  I hear the shower turn on and make my way out of bed and tug on my jeans. Going out to the living room, I see my brother sitting on the couch already ready to go.

  “Coffee is on,” he states, looking at his phone. “Reviewing tapes from the camera we secured yesterday.”

  “You already run?” I ask, knowing if he feels caged he has to get a run in to clear his mind. Being stuck like this is hard for us both, but mostly him.

  He nods.

  I go to the kitchen and make myself a cup of coffee. Sensing him behind me, I turn around.

  “What’s on your mind, Waylon?”

  “Whitt, you and Roe, this shit something good?”

  I sip the hot brew. “The best,” I give back honestly.

  “I wouldn’t blame you for staying.”

  His words shock me silent.

  “Probably shouldn’t have called you that morning. Shit woulda been a whole fuck of a lot different.”

  “Yeah, you’d be running half cocked in life alone. Vengeance is a powerful motivator, but it’s also something to make strong men crumble. Not something you can take on by yourself.”

  “My battle, my war. Not yours, Whitt.”

  I set the mug down and look him in the eyes. “We came into this world together, and we’ll fuckin’ leave it together.”

  He tips one side of his mouth up in a half-smile. “Funny the bitch always said you were all the evil. Whitt, you’ve always been the good.”

  I shake my head not real
ly sure what to say.

  “She gonna ride with us when the time comes?”

  “I don’t know what comes next, brother.”

  I wish I had answers, but I don’t. Even after our dinner, it’s like we are at a standstill. I don’t want to take her from her life here, but this is not a place I belong in anymore.

  “Need to call Thumper today and sort this shit, though. I’m sure LaRoche is looking for an answer from the club. We’ve surpassed the original week Thumper had bargained. Don’t know that we can push it any further.”

  Waylon nods just as Roe comes around the corner and into the kitchen.

  “Good morning, Waylon,” she greets my twin softly while her eyes meet mine, and I read the confusion in them. I don’t know how to act either, sweetheart. After all, I’ve never had a real relationship before. I can say, with every fiber of my being, I do love her just as much as then and even more now. And I want her…

  She moves to where I am, and I hand her my coffee mug. “Coffee?”

  “In the oven, there’s an omelet keeping warm,” Waylon surprises us both. “Thought you could use some protein before facing the demons. I mean children.”

  They both laugh.

  “What the hell, Way! I feed my woman, not you!” I give him a hard time.

  “Oh, I’m sure you’ve fed Roelyn plenty that I won’t be, but we gotta roll and she needs to eat so she can keep up with all that crazy shit y’all keep doing the minute you’re alone together. I’m looking out for you, brother.”

  He jokes, and Roe’s face turns red. I shake my head before I tip her chin up and place a soft kiss to her lips. “We’ll be back when we can. Have a good day, baby.”

  “Okay,” she replies softly before turning her head to my brother. “Thanks for the breakfast, Waylon, no one has cooked for me since my momma died. It’s nice.”

  I make a mental note to find time to cook for her before we leave.

  The thought cuts me deep and makes my chest ache.

  * * *

  The pawn shop is dead. Hours upon hours we wait and watch to find nothing. Everything we can find on LaRoche makes him clean.

  So why the need for a large order of guns?

  It’s mid-day when we get our answer. Five bikes pull up. Top rocker of their cuts reads, Black Souls MC. Insignia is a skeleton reaper. Bottom rocker reads, Live Oak, Florida.

  Black Souls motorcycle club was black balled by our club for business alliances five years ago.

  “You think they’re all rats now?” Waylon asks, studying the men as they enter the place.

  “Don’t know, brother, but if they have LaRoche buying from us, how do we know it’s not a set up?”

  I pick up my phone and dial Thumper who answers on the first ring. “Black Souls just entered the shop.”

  “Got my answers, get your asses home. Club vote came down the minute Black Souls had a rat in their association five years ago, nothing from them touches us. That vote stands even now without another church. They’re in LaRoche’s business that’s his problem, and we got nothing to do with him or them. See ya in a few hours,” he orders, and we disconnect.

  Any other time I would be more than happy to ride out of here and get back to Alabama and Rebels. How do I leave her?

  “I’ll head back, give you some time,” Waylon says beside me, starting the truck. “Cover your work, your ass, and you do what you need to here, brother. Take me to the rental car place and I’ll get something to get me home, you keep the truck. No matter what you decide, I got your back.”

  If only it was this easy.

  Chapter 17

  The wheels on the bus …

  My morning starts pleasant. Waylon can cook. His omelet was the best I’ve ever had.

  We just finished our calendar time and are singing about the wheels on the bus when I hear the distinct sound of motorcycles pulling up outside. Standing, I go to the window to see eight bikers parking and two of them openly armed with handguns on their sides.

  Panic fills me.

  Not alerting the kids, I make eye contact with Jennifer and continue singing as I go to my desk. Reaching my phone, I do the only thing I can think of.

  Trouble at work. Need you now! Please hurry.

  The text is sent to Whitton before I can even think twice. The building has a metal roof, and I know my signal isn’t strong enough because of the concrete blocks that make up the school to make a call to the police. I can only pray it gets the text out. At this moment, I so wish my room was the first to get the new phone system they’re slowly putting in. Unfortunately, it’s not.

  Marie rushes into my classroom and over to me.

  “Take this,” she says, handing me a piece of paper. “They’re gonna take me. Keep the kids safe, the teachers unaware, and call my husband on that phone number. Tell him I went with the club.” Those are the only words she gets out before she rushes out of my door and back to the front area of the school.

  I look at my assistant who has worry all over her eyes, but her bright smile to the children gives them no reason for panic.

  Still holding my phone in my hand, I move to the side of the window seeing the motorcycles and the men on them not caring, one second, there are children inside these walls that could see their guns. Nowadays, who would be stupid enough to bring a gun anywhere near a school. These guys must have a death wish or just don’t care.

  Marie strides outside, a wide smile on her face. Words are exchanged with one of the men, and Marie ever so gracefully climbs on the back of the man’s bike. There’s no struggle. There’s no trepidation in her movements. Nothing.

  “Ms. Roe?” Jennifer calls my name as I watch all the bikers ride out of the parking lot, Marie not looking back. How in the hell does she know those men?

  “It’s fine, Ms. Jennifer. I need to step out and make a phone call.” The crumpled paper in my hand feels like hot iron as thoughts of what Marie has gotten herself into, let alone her husband.

  Ms. Jennifer starts up another song, children smile and laugh as I exit the room and go down the hall to the teachers’ lounge. I should call the cops. I should call her husband like she asked, but instead I dial Whitton, my fingers shaking as I push each button.

  “Yeah,” he answers.

  “Whitton, it’s Roe.”

  “What’s wrong?” He must hear the uncertainty in my voice, and it sucks he didn’t get my text.

  “A few seconds ago, a bunch of bikers showed up at the school. They had guns, Whitton. Marie rushed in my room, handed me a piece of paper telling me they were taking her and I needed to call her husband at the number she handed me. She darted out and went to the guys on the bikes like she wasn’t scared one bit.”

  “Fuck,” Whitton clips out. “Are you secure in the building?”

  “Yes, but they’re gone now. Do I call her husband, Whitton? I don’t know what the hell to do.”

  “Are you in your classroom?”

  “No, teachers’ lounge. I don’t have a phone in my room, and my cell won’t work.”

  “Go to your classroom, shut and lock the door if you can. Don’t call anyone. I’ll be in touch.” He disconnects the line before I can say anything else.

  Slipping the phone on its cradle, the piece of paper stares back at me beaconing me to call it. Marie’s been my friend since I started working here. She’s let me lay stuff on her that no one else would want to take. Hell, she’s approved to be a foster parent, and they look into all that shit. I can’t just let her go and not do as she asked.

  Don’t call anyone.

  Shit. Shit. Shit!

  What if Marie’s husband can help her? Can get her away from those men? Whitton and Waylon are only two, and they had ten that I could count quickly with them. There’s no way they’ll be able to do anything about Marie.

  Sucking in a deep breath, I pick up the receiver and dial the number. It rings … and rings … and ring, then voicemail picks up. It’s a generic message and I know the number for the pawn
shop, so I’m not sure whose number this is.

  “Hi, this is Roe at the school,” I introduce, since I don’t know who I’ve really called. “Marie told me to call this number to tell her husband that she went with the club. Please help her,” I plead.

  I slam the receiver down on the cradle and stare at it, not feeling any relief from calling that number. Instead, I feel as if I should have listened to Whitton. A feeling in the pit of my gut forms knowing that Whitton is going to be pissed.

  I move back to the classroom, putting on my happy, nothing is wrong in the world face on, and go inside. Ms. Jennifer has all of the children playing in centers and a bit of relief goes through me. When they are busy building with blocks, painting or ‘cooking’ in the house area, they’re not paying attention to me or Ms. Jennifer and it gives me a bit to breathe.

  “What’s going on?” Ms. Jennifer asks as she approaches me.

  “I have no idea. We just have to get through the day.”

  “Where did you go?”

  “I called a friend of mine hoping he can help, but really I don’t know anything right now. And it’s frustrating.”

  Ms. Jennifer reaches out and squeezes my hand, then we get to work.

  It isn’t until much later when there is a knock on my now locked door and I look through the small window and see Whitton standing there. Relief and a bit of confusion hits as to how he got into the school, but I race to the door thankful the kids are down for their nap.

  Throwing the door open, I launch myself in Whitton’s arms, which he wraps around me. “What’s going on?” I ask in his neck, breathing him in. Only at that moment do I feel a small bit of reprieve from the emotions swirling around inside of me.

  His grip gets tighter, and I hear him give out a long breath. “Not quite sure yet, Roe. Called in my boys,” he says this all in my ear softly. “Gonna need you to come with me.”

  I pull back and look in his eyes. “Why?”