Wicked Man (3 page)

condolences.”

Heart nodded and took a deep breath. “Thanks, Wick.”

“She lives in the Ozarks, doesn’t she?” Wick asked. “Lots of

backwoods between here and there. You want a Brother to go with

you?”

“Nah, I’m good. The ride will give me a chance to clear my

head.”

Wick had the notion to ignore Heart’s wishes and send

someone along because his head wasn’t in a good place, but he also

knew Heart wouldn’t like to be babysat.

“Okay.” He reached out and laid a consoling hand on Heart’s

shoulder. “Be careful, okay?”

“I will.”

With a wave of his hand, Heart turned and hurried down the

hall, his boots thumping on the wooden floor. Without Heart, Wick

now had to find a road captain for the meth run scheduled the day

after tomorrow. It would be the Forgotten Rebels first run with the

new route since they’d affiliated themselves with the White Death

MC. Far runs were always risky because it meant a larger production,

but so far it seemed like his cook, affectionately known as Mr. Snow,

was able to keep up with the supply and demand.

Guess he and his Brothers were about to test their new found

wings. It was a daunting prospect simply because a bigger cut of the

pie had the potential to bring a spotlight on their operation. Meth was

a new business for them, one his predecessor hadn’t wanted, but when

Wick had taken over the reins, the newer generation of Brothers had

quickly voted for a substantial payday. Meth was Missouri’s biggest

crop, so why the hell
wouldn’t
they grab a piece of it?

Still, the threat of federal jail time if they were ever caught

hung in the back of his mind. Every Brother out there was an ex-

soldier, and some of them even drew VA pensions and benefits, so

they all knew what it meant if they were arrested. If he could change

their minds and vote out being meth dealers, he’d do it in a heartbeat.

Unfortunately, majority ruled.

Rubbing a hand over his face, he exited his office in search of

a beer. Or something stronger. It was past midnight, which was

usually his afternoon, but suddenly he was extremely tired. Worry

managed to take its toll on a body and between Piper, Abbott, and

now the meth run, he was beyond mentally exhausted.

A boisterous laugh came through the closed door, so loud that

it caused everyone to turn and look. Wick frowned, and a second

later, the door opened to allow a tall man to step through. He blinked,

not sure if he was seeing right, because right fucking then it looked

like his old nemesis had come strolling into the clubhouse. Then the

man turned and any good humor Wick had left evaporated. There

stood Darrell McBryde, son of the previous president, and Wick’s

biggest pain in the ass.

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath.

With a joyous greeting, the Brothers swarmed Darrell, all

happy to see one of their own returned from active duty. The man had

joined the army the same time Wick had, but unlike Wick, had stayed

to make a career of it. Only it’d been eleven years instead of twenty,

so why the fuck was the asshole back nine years too soon?

Never mind the fact that Darrell had pushed all of his buttons

when they’d been prospects together. Anarchy, Darrell’s father, had

opposed Wick’s ascension to the presidency. Mainly because Wick

was all about change and Anarchy wanted the club to stay mired in

the pain and suffering of the Vietnam War. But Wick knew that if the

MC was going to survive they had to do something to import funds,

otherwise, they were just a bunch of out-of-work soldiers barely able

to scrape by. Wick didn’t want to get into the dope business, but their

part of Missouri was all about railroad workers and construction

crews, and most of the time they were being shipped out all over the

state. It was a young man’s working game that the old timers couldn’t

play, and when majority ruled for him to take the gavel, there wasn’t

much Anarchy could do. Darrell hadn’t been happy either, but by then

he had been deployed overseas so his roar wasn’t too loud.

Darrell stepped farther into the room and that’s when Wick

noticed the limp, followed by the thump of a cane as he made his way

toward the leather couches. Their gazes met and locked, and Wick

saw immediately that the anger and frustration was still there, written

all over Darrell’s face.

“You on leave?” he asked, raising his voice to be heard over

the din. The Brother’s quieted down and gave him room to walk

forward.

“Medical discharge,” Darrell replied tiredly. “I’m home

permanently now. I’m ready to take my place within the club.”

He sat down, and that’s when his pant leg rode up, revealing

the metal prosthetic where flesh and bone had once been. The whole

room fell silent. Wick couldn’t seem to look away from the fake leg

as a myriad of emotions consumed him. Guilt. Anger. Disbelief. He’d

been sucker punched right between the eyes.

How could he be pissed off with a man who’d lost his leg for

his country?

Fuck!

“Roadside bomb,” Darrell said in the absolute stillness of the

room. “Blew my truck to smithereens. One soldier lost his life and I

lost my leg. Guess I was the lucky one.”

“Christ, Darrell,” Wick muttered.

“I know I was shit to you back when we were prospects, but I

got nowhere else to go,” Darrell said.

“Then we need to talk,” Wick replied.

“So I can stay?” Darrell asked.

“Of course you can. You’re a Brother, first and foremost.

Everything else we’ll figure out. ‘K?”

“Thanks,” Darrell said.

“Don’t thank me. I’m still debating whether or not to

nickname you pogo.”

The men laughed. Darrell laughed. Wick didn’t have the guts

to tell them he wasn’t kidding.

Abbott stood in the dark confines of the rubble that used to be

the mechanic shop in Stevens. The last time she’d been there,

Chadwick had broken her heart. She hadn’t known it had burned but

from the scorch marks lingering on the walls, it had happened a while

ago.

For the past few days she’d been studying the Forgotten

Rebels clubhouse and came up with a semi-decent plan on how to

sneak in. It wasn’t foolproof but it was one she figured had the

highest rate of success. Nothing stirred, so she left the safety of the

old building and crossed the road, making sure to stay in the deep

shadows provided by the tall trees growing sporadically around the

large area. The clubhouse actually had a high concrete wall

surrounding it, for either keeping people out or locking them in. She’d

never been really sure. Wick had kept tight-lipped on the happenings

of the club, and what the Brothers actually did. She knew they worked

as the only mechanics in the small town of Stevens, but seeing the

auto shop closed had surprised her.

Crouching in the shadows, Abbott made sure she was still

undetected and then dug out a piece of string she’d pilfered along the

away. Her pockets were full of items that she probably didn’t need,

but still kept for those
in case
moments. Like now. From her

backpack, she pulled out the size extra-large bra she’d taken from the

trash can at the laundry mat. The elastic was shot but it wasn’t like

she was going to wear it. All she needed was a temporary diversion.

Tying the string around one strap, she dared to move out of the

shadows long enough to tie it to a low hanging branch. Then she took

a deep breath and knocked on the door before dashing out of sight.

She waited a few moments and finally, the door opened. A young

man stepped out, with dark hair that brushed his collar. She figured he

was a prospect by the way his cut practically sparkled in the patches

of moonlight shining down. The leather hadn’t been worn at all. A

brief touch of guilt hit her when he spotted the large bra and stepped

away from his post, leaving the door wide open behind him. But the

feeling died with the rush of satisfaction that surged through her as

she snuck through the gateway into the compound. Sticking to the

shadows, she assessed the layout of the fortified compound.

A spotlight shown down upon the four-bay garage lining one

side, where several men worked on their bikes. Classic rock streamed

from a boom box somewhere inside. Then the front door open and a

man whistled, waving all to come into the large, two-story house. At

that moment, the prospect came back and closed the door behind him,

clutching the large bra. Abbott rolled her eyes but stayed put as she

watched all the members go hurrying into the clubhouse, leaving the

path free and clear. Seriously, she hadn’t thought it was going to be

that easy, but she wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth.

Quickly making her way toward the house, she skirted around to the

back and found the door Chadwick had once mentioned in chat. It

opened to the laundry and pantry room, and was thankfully, empty.

Once she met up with Wick she was going to have to tell him the

Rebels’ security was shit. Tiptoeing her way carefully through the

interior, mindful to keep her movements light, she searched for Wick.

Long ago she had learned it was all about taking graceful, fluid steps

instead of clomping through like a herd of elephants.

It was a skill she never thought she’d learn. Then again, over

time she’d learned many skills most women should never have to

learn. Mostly about how to survive abuse.

In the few months she and Chadwick had been talking to each

other, he’d let slip many details about the club’s house. Hurrying

along, she made her way to his office, hoping he was there. As she

neared it, footsteps sounded close so she quickly opened one door and

saw it was a bathroom. She slipped in and closed it right before the

footsteps came closer. It was an uneven gait, and the foot falls were

oddly placed. She waited until they disappeared before easing the

door open and cautiously glancing up and down the hallway to make

sure she was alone once more. When she didn’t see anyone, she

hurried out of the bathroom and up to Chadwick’s door.

“You should’ve let me know you were getting out,” came a

deep baritone that she immediately recognized as Chadwick. His

voice still had the power to wash through her, igniting her blood and

causing butterflies to dance in her belly.

“I honestly thought if I did you’d send Heart or someone to

stop me,” came the voice of another man sounding slightly bitter and

slightly pleading. She wondered why.

“You think I’m that much of a bastard?” Wick demanded.

“What else am I supposed to think, Wick? Last time I saw

you, you were a prospect heading off to the army. And then you came

back and suddenly you’re the president? Look at it from my point of

view.”

“Your father opposed me. You still siding with him?”

A small pause. Abbott held her breath, waiting for the answer.

“My father opposed you because of what you promised the

club.”

“I only promised what each man wanted,” Wick said. “You

know perfectly well it was brought to a vote, and they said yes.”

“But you didn’t oppose it, did you? And now the Rebels are

allied with the White Death? When did we stop being the free spirits

this club was founded on? The forgotten heroes after the military

chewed us up and spat us out?”

“Don’t preach to me, Darrell. This club was founded with

members disillusioned with society when they came back from

Vietnam. It wasn’t a case of being free spirits but about a bunch of

bitter men traumatized with PTSD. And you, obviously, fit right into

their ranks.”

“You’re a fucking asshole,” Darrell muttered.

“Call me what you’d like, but as long as I wear this president

patch I will do whatever is necessary to protect and provide for this

club,” Wick vowed. “You served your duty to your country. You

fulfilled the obligation to become a full member, and now you can

wear the Forgotten Rebel patch. If you so wish.”

“As long as I wear the White Death one as well?”

“We’re allies. My sister is old lady to their president.
You
will

not fuck this up. I don’t care whose son you are.”

Abbott sensed the tense meeting was coming to an end, so she

hurried quietly back to the bathroom. The office door swung open

with a crash and she didn’t have time to shut the bathroom door

completely. She shrank back into the darkness of the room, but

managed to catch a glimpse of Darrell as he stormed past. His odd,

uneven gait revealed when she caught a glimpse of the silver

prosthetic attached to the end of his lower left leg, and the cane that

helped him walk.

Waiting for a moment to make sure the coast stayed clear, she

left the bathroom and approached his door. It suddenly dawned on her

that she was only a few feet from Chadwick Edwards, the man she’d

loved for … well, always. Ever since they’d been in high school,

when he’d accidently brushed against her, which had caused all her