Blue lights flashed down the alley as a cruiser pulled up. Two deputies climbed out, hands on their guns.
“Alright, let him go, Logan. We’ll take it from here.”
Logan.
He released his grip on her attacker, who then took off down the alley at a full sprint, only to discover that the alley ended in a solid nine-foot-high brick wall. As the deputies retrieved him, Charlie sat back on her heels, trying to ready herself to give her knees a try. A hand appeared again, large and strong.
“You okay down there?”
She nodded and took his offered hand. His fingers closed around hers, dwarfing her hand. He pulled her gently to her feet, his other hand a steadying touch behind her opposite elbow.
“Easy now. Take it slow.”
Charlie leaned her back against the wall behind her and looked up at his face. Dark eyes gazed back at her, intense. Focused. He glanced over as the deputies returned with their cuffed quarry and walked him back to the car.
“Thank you.” Her voice sounded hoarse. Raspy. That guy had done a number on her throat.
Logan nodded. “No problem.” A smiled spread slowly across his face, smile lines rippling out around his eyes, softening the severity of his previous expression. “You, uh, always sound like a half-dead frog?”
Charlie chuckled, the sound even more frog-like than her words were. “Only when I actually am one, I guess. Seriously, thank you.”
“Well, Miss Charlotte, are you alright?” The deputy had returned from stowing her attacker in the backseat of his car. “Do you want me to radio for an ambulance?”
Charlie shook her head. “No, no, Frank. I’m okay. I don’t need that.”
“You should have a doc look at your neck.” Logan’s voice was quiet, but it wasn’t a suggestion.
“I will. I’ll go right away.”
Deputy Frank shifted closer. “You do that. And then we’ll need you to stop by and see the Sheriff, soon as you can. Give him your statement. You too, Logan.”
“I’ll come now.”
The deputy thanked them and left.
Charlie pushed herself away from the wall and knelt to retrieve her purse and bags of groceries. Logan handed her the can of coffee that had rolled a few feet away.
“You sure you’re going to be okay?”
“I am.” She took the coffee and adjusted her purse on her shoulder. “I’m fine. Really.”
He didn’t leave. Get away from me. Please. Go. The narrow alley seemed to shrink around them, the space suddenly too small for both of them. She fought the urge to close her eyes and retreat into her mind. He wasn’t a threat. He had saved her. The alley returned to its normal dimensions.
“I’ll call someone to come pick me up.”
His eyes met hers again, the same intense look on his face. Had he noticed her near panic attack?
“Alright then. Take care.”
She watched him stride back over to his motorcycle and swing one long leg over it to sit astride. At the turn of a key, it rumbled to life beneath him. Charlie walked to her car and sat in the A/C until her dad arrived to pick her up. Only once she was safely in her dad’s truck and pulling out of the parking space did she see Logan strap on his helmet and ride off. She leaned her head against the warm glass of her window and closed her eyes.
Some days were just too much to bear. Too much.
“Mom? Are you home? I brought the mail!”
Charlie set her purse on the kitchen counter and went to the fridge for the pitcher of iced tea as her mom came sweeping into the kitchen, her light kimono-style wrap flowing behind her.
“I’m here, I’m here. Tell me all about what happened. Your dad told me you were attacked. What did Dr. Paltham say? Let me see your neck.”
Her mom’s hands felt cool and dry as they touched the front of her throat lightly. “Oh, Charlotte. It will probably bruise. I’m so sorry.” She wrapped her arms around Charlie and held her for a moment. Charlie froze, the embrace threatening to tear down all of her carefully-constructed defenses. Tears filled her eyes, and she blinked them back. Clearing her throat, Charlie gently pulled away and gave her mom’s hand a squeeze.
“I’m okay, Mama. Really. Dr. Paltham said there’s no real internal damage, but I might be hoarse for a few days and you’re right, it’ll probably bruise. Turtlenecks are a good summer look, right?”
The look of concern on her mom’s face hurt Charlie’s heart. She hated that she put it there. Again. After everything with Greg, she’d vowed never to worry her mom like that again. Yet here they were.
Charlie finished pouring herself a glass of the cool amber liquid. “Do you want some tea?”
“Yes, thanks. Come sit with me, will you?”
Charlie carried two glasses to the kitchen table and sat down. “I really am okay, Mama. It was just some pimple-faced teenager trying to prove himself by stealing my purse. When I fought back it caught him off guard, and he panicked, choked me. He’s locked up, I’m safe, case closed.”
Charlie took a sip of the tea, relishing the soothing coolness as it passed through the tender tissue in her neck.
“But here? In Willow Bough? I’ve never heard of such a thing.”
“That’s what Sheriff Dawson said, too. It’s definitely unusual. Said he thinks the kid must’ve come down from Atlanta, maybe even Monroe or…Memphis.” Charlie’s throat tightened at the memory of the city that had cost Greg his life.
“You went by and saw him already?”
Charlie nodded and took another sip of tea. “I did. On the way back from Dr. Paltham’s. I wanted to get it over with while everything was still fresh in my mind.”
“Good plan, honey. Now, if you are very sure you’re okay—” Her mom shifted in her seat, adjusted the kimono on her shoulders. “Tell me about this man.”
Charlie choked, coughing on the tea she’d been attempting to swallow. “Who?”
Her mom smiled. “The man. The one who helped you. Your dad said he was someone new?”
“I don’t know anything about him.” Her mind’s eye flashed to the image of his hands pulling her attacker away. Helping her to her feet. Handing her the coffee can. “He was just in the right place at the right time, I think.”
“God’s provision for you, and I’m so thankful. What was his name?”
Charlie shook her head to clear him out of it. “I’m sorry, what?”
“The man. What was his name?”
“Uh, Logan. I think. We didn’t really talk much. He just sort of ripped the guy off me and held him until Frank pulled up with that new deputy he’s training.”
Her mom hid a smile in her glass of tea before responding. “Logan? That’s a nice name. What did he look like?”
“MOM.”
“What? I’m just asking.”
“That innocent look doesn’t work on me, okay? Save it for Dad.” Charlie shook her head. “And I was kind of busy trying not to get strangled to death, remember?”
“Mhmm.”
“Good grief, Mom, fine. He was tall. Dark hair. Had tattoos, I think. Looked rougher than he sounded and rode a motorcycle.”
“Did he wear a helmet?”
“Seriously, what?”
“You can tell a lot about a man based on just a few little life choices. Did he wear a helmet?”
“You are ridiculous, you know that right?” Charlie sighed. “Yes, he wore a helmet.”
Her mom’s smile was bright and unhidden this time. “We should have him over for supper. Thank him for saving our baby girl.”
Charlie pushed her chair back from the table and carried her empty glass over to the sink. “No.”
“But, Charlie—”
Charlie leaned against the counter, arms crossed. “No. Or you and Dad can, if you really want to, but I won’t be there.”
Her mom frowned. “And why not?”
“You know why not.”
“Charlotte —”
“No, Mom. I’m sorry, but no. I’m not rea
dy, and that’s it. Do what you feel is best, but please leave me out of it.”
Her mom hesitated, obviously reluctant to let it go, but after a moment she said, “Okay, sweetheart. That’s fine.”
Charlie walked back over to the table to kiss her mom on the cheek. “Thanks. I’m going to go lie down for a while. Love you.”
“Love you, too, honey. And I thank God you’re okay.”
Charlie paused in the doorway.
“God wasn’t there, Mom. Just Logan and Frank. Thank them if you want to thank someone.”
Chapter 3
“And what did the Sheriff say?” Doc handed Logan a cup of coffee before sliding into the booth across from him.
The old diner adjacent to the Prodigal Brothers Motorcycle Shop had been turned into a community kitchen for the shop and the rehabilitation ministry housed above it. Men who came to live in the halfway house earned their keep by helping out around the shop and the diner. A skinny man with deep red needle tracks on his arms paused by their table. He was trembling and twitchy but appeared genuinely happy to be there.
“Need anything else, boss? We got pie today. Cherry.”
“That sounds great, Joey, thank you.”
“You got it. You got it. I’ll be right back.”
Logan watched him leave. “He seems to be settling in okay. No backsliding?”
Doc shook his head. “None at all. What you saw there is what we’re seeing every morning and evening at prayer meeting. He’s struggling physically, but in every other way? He’s relieved. Grateful. You can see God’s grace at work in his life in a real way.”
“Good.” Logan’s eyes followed the young man as he worked behind the counter, carefully plating two slices of cherry pie with shaking hands. “Glad to hear it. I don’t think he’d have made it much longer on his own.”
Once Joey had delivered their pie and gone back to wiping down the counters, Logan leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table.
“Sheriff said he’d overlook my involvement this time. Big emphasis on this time. He didn’t like me being that close to a crime being committed, much less stepping in.”
Doc chewed a bite of pie and scratched the side of his silvered beard. “But what else could you have done, son? Let the young woman be assaulted in broad daylight?”
Logan shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine. Like I said, he’s letting it go. Said he appreciated me coming right in to talk about it instead of waiting to be summoned, so at least there’s that. I don’t know.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “You didn’t see her, Doc. She was this close to going down. Maybe worse.”
“I support your choice, Logan. Sacrificial as it was. I’m just thankful that you aren’t paying a bigger price for it, is all.”
“Yeah. Me, too.” Logan paused, thinking back over the event. “By the way, have you heard anything about a new club in town?”
“What kind of club?” Doc scraped the last of the cherry filling off the plate with his fork, savoring it before setting the dish aside and returning to his coffee. “Night club?”
“No. Biker. The kid was wearing a cut. Looked brand new.”
“You’re thinking it was some kind of initiation.”
“That’s my concern. Everything else about him screamed poor. Maybe even homeless. But the leather on that cut was shiny and new. No patches, no club logo.”
“Well, now that you mention it, one of our brother ministries out of Monroe had mentioned a shift in gang-related activity. A migration, he called it. They’re thankful, because it means less in their area, but…here? In Willow Bough?” Doc leaned back against the booth cushion. “If anyone else was suggesting this to me, Logan, I’d tell them they were seeing shadows, not monsters.”
“I know. But why else is a teenager like that wearing an empty cut?”
“I don’t know. I’ll go in to see the sheriff in the morning, just in case. Because if he was being watched, then someone saw you step in. And that means what was once a random mark…”
Logan’s stomach sank as he finished the thought. “…Now becomes a target.”
Chapter 4
TWO WEEKS LATER
Charlie piled the last book into her over-flowing tote bag and smiled at the librarian as she hefted it onto her shoulder.
“Thank you, Ms. Myrtle. I’ll see you next week!”
“You’re welcome, sweetheart. Enjoy!”
Charlie struggled not to sidewind her way across the library lobby to the heavy glass double doors that led out into the parking lot. She maneuvered around the mobile return cart and almost tripped over the motorcycle parked on the other side.
She paused. Was that…? Surely not. Plenty of people owned motorcycles in Willow Bough. PLENTY.
She stepped down off the curb and walked toward her car in the middle of the lot, scanning the area as she went. She’d become a lot more cautious in the days following her attempted mugging. After settling her book bag in the trunk, Charlie stepped back and reached up to close the hatch. The metal was hot under her fingers when she heard it. Tires screeched behind her, along with the sound of heavy footsteps running her way. She whirled around just in time for Logan’s body to slam into her as an unmarked van flew by. It clipped the rear bumper of her car and sent it into a spin. Logan knocked her to the ground, her car missing them by mere inches.
They’d landed in a tangle on the hot pavement, with Logan’s arm underneath her head and breaking the worst of her fall. She scrambled away from him to lean against the wheel well of her car, fear stealing her breath.
“What are you doing here?” She grabbed her purse from the ground nearby and pulled out her bottle of pepper spray.
Logan sat a few feet away, his hands raised in surrender. “Hey, hey, easy there.”
She gripped the small can tighter in her hand. Twice. Twice she’d been in danger and both times this guy shows up just in time. She pressed her free hand into the hot asphalt, willing the pain to stop her world from tilting.
“Are you following me?”
He hesitated.
“You are. You’re following me. We have laws about stalkers here, you know that, right?” Charlie got to her feet, steadying herself against the car, and began moving around to the driver’s side door, never taking her eyes off Logan or lowering her weapon.
“I’m not stalking you.” As Logan stood up, Charlie was reminded of the sheer size of the man. He was easily a head taller than she was, maybe more. If he was really determined to hurt her, she didn’t know what chance she stood at stopping him. “Just let me explain, okay?”
Charlie didn’t answer, but she didn’t get in the car, either. Instead, she waited. What could he possibly say that would make this okay? She told herself she was just curious. And if he made a wrong move, she could spray him and run away. Threat level…yellow? Orange? Whatever the medium level threat color would be.
“I saw your car and stopped to keep an eye out, yes. But I wasn’t following you, and I’m definitely not stalking you.” Logan stayed where he was, leaving the car between them, giving her a physical buffer. Charlie lowered the spray but didn’t put it away. “I was worried you might be in danger. Turns out I was right.”
Oh yeah, the van. Charlie looked in the direction the van had been going. “You think they were trying to hit me? On purpose?”
Logan nodded. “I do.”
Charlie felt her shoulders sag under the weight of that realization. First the alley attack, now this. Why would anyone want to hurt her? People began streaming out of nearby businesses. A couple stared at her from a few cars down. Charlie tried to stay focused on Logan. “Why? Why would they do that? And who was it?”
“I don’t know who. Not even really sure about the why, but I think it might be connected to what happened before.”
She could hear sirens in the distance. “I thought that was just random. An attack of opportunity, the sheriff said.”
“Maybe. Probably started out that way, anyway. But twice
in two weeks makes that less likely.” Logan reached into his back pocket and pulled out a small piece of paper. He set it on the roof of her car, sliding it toward her with one finger. “That’s my cell number. If you see something or someone that seems off, and you don’t feel sure enough to call the cops, you call me.”
Charlie took the paper, careful not to touch his hand in the process. “Like what?”
Logan glanced toward the sound of the approaching sirens. “Anything. You’ll know it when you see it.”
Charlie watched his hands clench and unclench by his sides. “Why are you doing this? Why are you are helping me?”
Before Logan could answer, Deputy Frank whipped his cruiser into the library parking lot, blue lights flashing. As he climbed out of the car, he looked from Charlie to Logan and back again.
“Well, well—here we are again.”
Once Charlie had finished giving her statement to Frank and had bid Logan good-bye, albeit somewhat awkwardly—how did one thank a stranger for saving their life for the second time?—Charlie drove slowly home. Her nerves were on edge, and she caught herself double- and triple-checking her mirrors as though she expected the van to suddenly shimmer into place behind her and drive her off the road.
Easy there, Chuck. It’s over. For now, anyway.
She definitely had more questions than answers about what was going on and why anyone would want to run her over in a library parking lot, but letting her imagination run away with her wouldn’t exactly help. When she pulled around back of her parents’ house to the detached garaged turned apartment she currently called home, her dad was sitting on her front stoop.
“Hey, Daddy.” She retrieved her bag of books from the backseat before walking over to sit next to him on the top step. “Who called you?”
He helped her settled the bag on the ground near their feet before draping one arm around her shoulders. “Sheriff Dawson. He said someone tried to hit you with their car?”
Charlie leaned her head into her father’s shoulder as the last of the adrenaline drained from her body, leaving her shivering in the warm afternoon sun. “It was a van, but yeah.”
Faith by Fire (Prodigal Brothers MC Book 1) Page 3