Resurrection (Wesson Rebel MC Series Book 3) (10 page)

I glance up at the rafters, curse my luck, and say the only thing I can, “Yeah, man, you know I will.”

“Thank you. Can do what I need to now.”

“You sound like you don’t plan on coming back.”

“We both know there are causalities in a war. I need to be prepared for every possible outcome.”

“That means leaving your sister in the hands of a man you hardly know.”

“I know enough. You’re good people. Strong, smart, on the silent side, but capable of doing whatever needs to be done. I’ve watched you, all of you. I know the measure of each man in Wesson. You’re the one I’m choosing to trust my sister with.” Coughs crackle over the line.

My chest aches in sympathy. The man isn’t well. “Don’t worry about it, Houdini. I got her covered.”

“All right, man, I’ll be in touch,” he replies hoarsely.

We hang up and I swear… I’ve gone and done it. Now I’m linked to her until I pass the torch back to her brother.

Like I would’ve trusted her safety to anyone else.

Somewhere between the car crash and the concussion, I’d accepted her as my responsibility. Seeing her like this— open and vulnerable— made it impossible to compare her to Jewel. She was little more than a kid trying to find her way through a storm.

I place my phone in my pocket and walk outside.

The expression on her face can only be described as dreamy. The sun caresses her chocolate brown hair. Her freckles stand out on the bridge of her nose.

“You doing okay?” I ask.

She turns to me and shrugs.

“It’s a lot to take in, huh?”

She sighs and signs, “I’m not sure how I feel about everything. I know Ira is alive, but for how long? Will this war be short and over, before the streets run red with blood, or will the fear drive them to remain behind my uncle and fight to the bitter end? This relief I feel concerning Ira is temporary. He’s going right back into the fray. They don’t even know who is friend and foe. We’ve placed our trust in Giancarlo. What if that was wrong?”

“What if it’s not?” I challenge. “Could you have done anything else?”

Her brow furrows and her eyes go unfocused. After a time, she answers, “No.”

“Then let it go. You’ll drive yourself insane with what ifs.”

“You sound like you’re speaking from experience.”

“I am.” I wait for her to ask more questions.

“Looks like we’re stuck here for a while,” she says, changing the topic so abruptly I blink. “What are we going to do to entertain ourselves?”

“I did some exploring. There are cards, a few board games, and some fishing poles if you’re game. I’m guessing a lake must be nearby. Do you do the fishing thing?”

“I never have. But I’m not opposed.”

I give her a look of disbelief.

“I told you, I’m not afraid to get my hands dirty.”

I’m reminded of the way she dispatched our pursuers with steady hands and bravery. “Then let’s do it.” I guide her back into the cabin.

She gives me a tiny smile. She’s different now, softer and more open. It’s tempting.

If only I had met her in another time and another place.

I follow her inside. Here, at least I can explore what could’ve been. I pull out the fishing pools from the closet and hand her the small tacklebox.

Her eyes sparkle.

She’s really is excited about this.

It was sweet. “You actually want to do this, don’t you?” The duh expression she shoots my way makes me laugh. “All right, come on, angler in training. Let’s get you on the water.”

We head out and I follow the well-worn trail that leads away from the cabin. Winding our way down the mountain we end up at a steadily flowing river.

Rays dance over the water. The surface shimmers and the cool breeze feels good on my skin. I can’t remember the last time I did anything so relaxing, or healthy. Since the attack on the clubhouse where I almost lost my life, I’ve been on a drinking and screwing binge. This is my detox. I inhale the clean air and close my eyes, basking in the moment. The world may be burning down around us, but in this place, we’re okay. “I don’t know what we have in there, but I always prefer live bait.” After resting my pole on the grassy bank, I scan the area. I spot a thick stick.

“Where are we going to get live bait?”

“The ground.” Grabbing the stick, I hunch down and begin to dig. I come across a nice cluster of worms and hold one up to the air. “Looks like we’re in business.” I watch as she kicks off her shoes and curls her toes in the grass. The gesture makes me smile. She reminds me of Emily. Buried inside of her battered shell is a free spirit. “Bring me your pole.”

She walks over.

I hook the worm and stand. “I’m going to show you how to cast, and once you’re in the water, I’ll get myself set up. Here, walk a bit closer to the water.” I stand behind her, wrap my arm around her waist, and cover my hand on hers on the pole. “Press the button in, bring your arm back, toss it and release.” I walk her through a few casts. “We’re going to do it on three. One, two, three…” We let go and the line sails through the air, landing in the middle of the river. “Perfect. Now, let it sit for a bit and slowly reel it in.” I watch her for a few moments. “You got it. If you get a bite, pull up.” I gesture a hooking motion. I move over to my pole and cast.

We pass the time peacefully co-existing; a new experience for the two of us. It’s funny, I have a hard time remembering exactly why we were at each other’s throat, now that she’s set aside the Lorello persona.

Which is the real her?

I hear a commotion and turn to see her dancing a jig as she tugs at her pole.

“You got one on?” I hurry over and assess the situation. “Plant your feet and reel it in.” I wrap my arms around her and help her tug the rod toward us. Whatever she has on the line is pretty big. “You got a big one.” I take her noises as those of excitement. Her round ass presses into my groin as we bring in the fish. My cock stirs. I will my blood to circulate elsewhere in my body and pray she’s too caught up in the moment to notice. She smell’s sweet and pure. It’s an intoxicating aroma.

We continue to bring it in. I catch a glimpse of the multi-colored ten pounder. “Looks like we have a sunfish. And he’s a fat one.” The sunfish gives up the battle and I step back, allowing her to cross the finish line on her own.

She proudly holds up the flopping fish.

I laugh. “You want to catch and release, or eat him?”

She wrinkles her nose up in reply.

I laugh some more. “All right, let me get him off the hook.”

The rest of the day passes much the same. We get into a rhythm. The fish are biting, the weather is perfect, and I’m having more fun than I ever thought possible with her. As we gather our things to leave…she tells me
thank you
and I feel a flicker of feelings I haven’t experienced in a long time. It’s scary as hell.

I need to be careful around this one.

Houdini/Ira

I hold my side and limp my way into the bathroom. Every step hurts, despite the meds I have running through me. I refuse to take narcotics, so all the doc did was take the edge off. I need to keep my wits about me. I don’t trust Giancarlo completely. This could be a well-constructed plan to take me out.

Though, I doubt it.
He could’ve taken me out and been done with it.

I lean heavily against the wall as I pee. My ribs are fractured. I have a hole through my bones that aches like a bitch, and I’m weak as a newborn. They gave me just enough water and food to keep me from dying before they got what they wanted.

I can only assume it was Vita, or maybe we were waiting for Lorenzo to arrive. There’s no way my uncle would’ve let him finish me off without showing his face. I growl. I wish the bastard had been there. Then it could’ve been his brains splattered all over that basement.

I finish up and move to the mirror. It’s the first chance I’ve had to study my face. I wince. I don’t know the man looking back at me. I’m swollen and discolored like a bloated body. My lips are three times their normal size and busted open in three different places.

The scabs make me look like I have herpes.

I’ve been cut from my neck down, my fingernails are caked with blood from where they slid the tips of their blades under my nails. My voice feels permanently hoarse from the screaming. There’s no such thing as stoic when someone is drilling through your bone and trying to take off your fingernails. But I didn’t crack. That’s all that really matters. There were a few times when they placed the plastic bag over my head until I lost consciousness that I wanted to.

When Giancarlo’s men burst through the door and sprayed my capturers’ brains all over the basement, I thought I’d be next.

But I wasn’t.

The only thing in my mind now is revenge. I’m not going to rest until I see the light go out behind my uncle’s eyes. Then it’ll finally be over. Giancarlo can do what he wants with the rest of the lot. Lorenzo is mine to take down. The culling has begun while all his most loyal are meeting their end and the questionable people have been rounded up. Lorenzo is still nowhere to be seen. I’m not surprised. He’s a slippery snake. Yet no one can hide forever, and there will be no aid coming to his rescue.

It’s a matter of time.

Chapter Seven

Vita/Elisa

The days are starting to blur and the weather is warming up. We keep the windows open and the fans going, but it’s still all we can do to keep cool. I understand now why all of the clothing left behind is miniscule. My hair is pinned up on top of my head and I’m trying to concentrate on a word search while I stay in the direct line of the breeze coming in through the window. I hear Prophet coming down the hall. Eager for a distraction, I look up and my heart races.

He’s wearing a pair of jeans that ride low on his hips and nothing else. His chest is slender, but well built. Bullet wounds mar his golden skin, but it only adds to his rugged appearance. He looks up. “You’re wondering about these?” He rubs the scars.

“I’m sorry.” I drop my gaze.

“No, it’s okay. I’d be curious, too. Back when Cora was still pregnant with her son, R.J., the club got raided by a rival gang. Four men lost their lives. Me and Reaper almost joined them. I got off lucky. He was in a coma for over six months afterward.”

I shudder. The life he lives is dangerous.
Like I can talk.
“You’re strong. You survived.”

His lips curve upward. “I could say the same thing about you.”

I lift my hands to respond and lower them. He’s right, but I don’t feel the pride he does. He continued on with his life… I didn’t.

“You don’t think I’m right?”

I shrug.

“No, you don’t get to pry into my life and clam up about yours.” He takes a seat in the chair across from me. “It’s not like either of us has anything better to do.”

I take a deep breath then let it out. “I wasted so many years and I never saw it until now. Or, maybe until Cora. She showed me I could still have a life. That it was okay to.”

“Wasted? I’m not sure about that. Did you need the time to get your head right?”

“Yeah, I did,” I admit.

“Then it can’t be wasted.”

“You say that, but you picked yourself up—”

“Don’t make me into a saint, Vita. There’s plenty you don’t know about me.”

“What does that mean?”

Creases form on his forehead and his countenance darkens. “If you knew who I really was and what I’d done, you’d know I’m not a man to admire.”

His self-pity angers me. I snap my fingers.

He looks up.

“I’m the reason my brother is a widow.”

“I’m the reason my entire family died.” 

My jaw drops. “What do you mean?”

“Exactly what I said.” His face turns red and he stands up to walk away.

I follow and grab his shoulder.

He spins around to watch my hands.

“You can’t say that and walk away. I asked Mia, Ira’s wife, to help me get ready for prom. If I hadn’t…she’d still be alive.” Saline blurs my vision. I blink. I will not cry.

“My wife had my family murdered and tried to murder me. I picked her, brought her into my home, and remained blind until the day I ended up in the hospital, damn near dying from cyanide poisoning. You want to talk about guilt? Let’s start there and continue with the fact that I let her alienate me from them. So, I hadn’t even seen them for damn near a year beforehand. You think I’m strong or noble?” He laughs. “I’m a pox, a curse. I’m not sure I didn’t bring my bad luck to Wesson, considering what happened after I pledged.”

I can’t wrap my head around the horrific story he just told me.

“I’m shocked you don’t remember seeing it in the news. Jewel Rowe, on trial for the solicitation of murder and attempted murder in the first degree. The pretty petite, deaf woman who looked like she couldn’t hurt a fly.” His voice is bitter and self-depreciating.

It pains me to hear this tone.
God, no wonder he hated me. I must remind him of her.

“She chewed me up, spit me out, and broke me down. You think I’m strong? No. I spent years living out of a bottle, mooching off all of the money I inherited from my dead family.” His eyes are unfocused.

I bend down to catch his gaze. “You couldn’t have known that.”

“I should have. What the hell could she have wanted from me? I was stupid and needy. Finding Wesson was a fluke. They frequented the bar I pretty much lived in. We became friendly and I decided to clean myself up enough to function and become a prospect. If it wasn’t for them, I don’t know where the hell I’d be. I don’t even know why I’m telling you this, except for maybe because you’re stuck with me for God knows how long. I fool everyone, your brother included. He asked me to look out for you.”

“You do. You have been,” I protest. I went from hating him— to adoring him. “You’re one of the few people I trust with my life. I can’t stand to see you talk about yourself like this.”

Suddenly, he turns the tables. “But it’s okay for you? You had no way of knowing what would happen and they wiped out everyone. At least Mia wasn’t alone when it all happened.”

“I never thought of it that way.”

“How about we make a deal? I won’t bash myself, if you don’t bash yourself.”

“Deal.” We’re staring into each other’s eyes and my heart’s racing a mile a minute. There’s a change in the air. Heat envelopes me that has nothing to do with the weather. My breathing becomes shallow.

“You’re a little bit magical, like Emily was. I’ve never talked about this to anyone. Not since the day I walked out of the courtroom and left my old life behind.” He reaches out and trails his knuckles down the side of my face.

My stomach flips.

“I think maybe I needed it.” He takes a step closer. Our bodies are a hair’s breadth away. “Maybe you needed it, too.”

The loneliness I’ve experienced over the years presses down on me. I look to him, wanting something I can’t ask for.

Wrapping his arms around me he pulls me to him.

I close my eyes and inhale his scent, soaking up the acceptance and closeness he’s offering.

I want this. No— I need this.

We stay like that for a time and he pulls away. “You okay?”

I nod.

“Are we okay?”

I lick my lips. My emotions are a briar patch, prickly and tangled. I nod again.

What else is there to do?

“Good.” He releases me.

I instantly mourn the loss. He’s the food for that starved part of me, and now I’m ravenous for more. My cheeks heat.

“How about we take a dip in the river?”

“I don’t have a bathing suit,” I say automatically.

“I’m sure we could find something,” he insists.

I think of the workout clothes I saw. It’s a pair of shorts and a sports bra, but they’re both black and cover everything necessary. “I have something.”

“Okay, I’ll meet you back here in ten minutes.”

We depart and I flee, grateful for the time to recover alone. He’s doing odd things to me.

It’s the close quarters. You haven’t spent this much time with anyone in years, not even Ira.

I take my time changing. A few minutes of deep breathing and talking to myself and I’m ready to go. I meet him in the opposite room and bite my lip. He’s even more delicious in a pair of black board shorts. I feel like I’ve re-entered puberty again, cause my hormones are off the charts.

Prophet takes his time taking in my outfit.

Maybe I’m not the only one?

I quickly brush the thought away. He’s doing what my brother asked him to do: taking care of me. We had a similar experience that few can understand. Sharing it has bonded us. I’d be a fool to read more into it. While I’m not a virgin, I have no experience in the way of adult relationships.

The last one I’d been in was my first. I sigh as I think of Matthew Andretti. Tall, dark-haired, brown eyes, and toned from football, he’d been a teen girl’s dream come true. Though, our experimentation in the bedroom left much to be desired. The memory douses the flames of desire that had begun to form. I cling to it as we leave the cabin and make our way down to the river with our towels. I set mine down on the grass and rush into the river, counting on the icy shock to reboot my system and clear my mind. I sink in over my head and surface with a few strong kicks. I break the surface and float on my back watching the sky.

The clouds are wispy but plentiful. I hunt out the recognizable shapes and think back to the lazy days of summer I used to have in my youth. I never imagined how complicated life could be then. It was all about the next crush, grades to get into a good school and fashion. I could never get back what I lost, but I could do myself a favor and move forward.

Prophet was wrong when he said he wasn’t a good example. He was the best one. Unlike me, he’d been the sole survivor. He’d pulled himself up by his bootstraps and found a whole new life he found fulfilling. He hadn’t come right out and said he was rich, but he must be loaded. Enough to tempt a woman to plan the genocide of his family. I turn my head and seek him out.

He’s doing laps up and down the river.

Probably trying to tire himself out.

It’s easy to get cabin fever on days like this one. The days begin to blur together, and when it’s really hot, being outdoors is taken off the list of things to do. Though, we’ve played some pretty heated games of Monopoly. I smirk. It’s amazing how interesting a game becomes once you get sleep deprivation and alcohol involved. The days are blurring together at this point. We’ve been off the grid for a good two weeks. I imagine they’ll be coming to re-up our supplies soon. Water splashes my face. I splutter and sink beneath the surface then I come up and attack.

Prophet playfully pushes back with waves of water.

I sweep my arm over the surface. Happiness bubbles up in my chest. I embrace it and lose myself to the moment.

Prophet/Charles

I thought the water would cool me, but I was dead wrong. The sight of her slender frame, firm breasts, and tight ass, acts like fuel to the fire. We’re in a small cabin, sharing our darkest secrets and I’m catching a case of like with a girl who I call friend. It’s a rarity for me. I don’t let people close often, and women have been seen as potential enemies up until now. We leave the river, pruney, but cool. I can’t help but wish I was one of those droplets of water traveling between the valleys of her breasts and disappearing inside of the top. I lick my lips and avert my eyes.

So much for cooling off in the water.

My gaze is glued to her ass as we walk back to the cabin. Her hips have a gentle sway I find hypnotic.

I can’t be that hard up for sex.

Vita isn’t the type of woman you have a few nights of fun with. She’s an all strings attached, ring and serious commitment type. She practically has the song, “Keep your hands to yourself” tattooed on her forehead.

Not to mention what her brother would do to me.

I run my hand down my face. This is how people go crazy in the woods. You get too much time on your hands and the mind begins to wander down streets it shouldn’t be venturing on.

We reach the top of the hill and she stops so fast, I run into her.

“What’s going on?” I look over her head and see a group of riders on motorcycles parked in front of the house. “Ahhh, groceries have arrived. We probably didn’t hear them over the river.” I step forward and she remains in place. “Hey, don’t be afraid, they’re Wesson.” I wrap my arm around her shoulders. “You know I’d never let anything happen to you.”