Wicked Man (7 page)

possibly hold back. Wick shuddered as his climax roared through

him, turning his brain to mush. They stayed locked together, their

hearts beating frantically in time with one another, before he pulled

from her body. And that’s when he saw his cum flow down her

thighs.

“Ah shit,” he muttered.

“Hmm?”

“I didn’t wear a condom. I’m sorry. I, ah, forgot.”

She stared at him in horror and pulled her arms from around

his neck. “I … I … need to clean myself up.”

He let her go and she turned toward the bathroom.

“Abbott, it’s okay,” he said, wanting to assure her. “If

something happens I’ll be there with you.”

She took a deep breath and nodded, although he got a funny

feeling in the pit of his stomach. Like a dark cloud passing over a

crystal clear sky, something dark had just cast a shadow upon them.

Light streamed through the window when Wick opened his

eyes, and he glanced at the bedside clock to confirm the time. He had

Church in half an hour. As he stretched, an arm slid around his waist

and a warm, contented feeling filled his soul. Abbott was with him,

and everything was right in his world. He closed his eyes and simply

took in the moment, savoring it. He turned his head and saw she was

still asleep, so he just took in her beauty. She was a tad too thin, and

the stress of her life had added an edge that sharpened the angles of

her face. While awake, she seemed a little … brittle. On edge. As if

she was waiting for the other shoe to drop. And his forgetting to wear

a condom definitely had wrecked something, though he didn’t quite

know what. She’d not talked about it after her shower and her silence

made him sad. He knew exactly who was to blame.

If he ever got his hands wrapped around the throat of Billy

Walker he’d take great pleasure in killing the fucker.

Careful not to disturb Abbott because she needed the rest, he

got out of bed and headed into the small bathroom. Aware of the time,

he took no more than a few minutes in the shower before leaving it to

dry off. Back in his room, he opened a couple of dresser drawers and

pulled out the first clean clothes he had, which no surprise, were

black. He headed downstairs, grabbed some coffee, and entered

Church.

The coffee was weak and he grimaced. He really missed

Piper’s coffee as well as her bringing breakfast and lunch to everyone

while in Church. His sister made the best bacon. Not too burned, not

too under done.

Wick sat the cup down on the table and noticed a bag by his

chair. He peeked inside and saw leather. Satisfied, he stood at the

front of the table, watching as the senior members came in and took

their seats. Heart wasn’t there, of course, so he nodded toward the

empty chair for Darrell to sit. When everyone was comfortable, he sat

down and banged the gavel.

“Let’s begin,” he said. “First up I’d like to report that Heart’s

uncle died so he’s gone to be with his aunt and help her out. I’m not

sure when he’ll be home, but I’ve told him to take his time.”

“So who’s going to be road captain on the next run?” Striker

asked. He was a big bald man who loved to watch stupid parody

movies, which was where he’d gotten his nickname. He’d quoted

Airplane!
one too many times.

“You can, if you want to,” Wick said with a shrug. “Unless

anyone wants to challenge Striker?”

Head shakes were his answer. Striker folded his arms and

leaned back in his chair, looking pleased. Wick didn’t care who was

road captain, as long as the run got done. This would be their first run

riding with the White Death MC, through new territory, so there was

a lot depending on a smooth journey. In return for distribution of their

product, they were to be introduced to the White Death’s supplier of

pseudoephedrine. Wick trusted Heart impeccably, but he also knew

Striker wouldn’t let anything happen to their inventory.

“Then it’s settled,” he said. “Striker will be road captain when

Heart is not able to. Now, the other aspect to this meeting is the

official patching in of our returned Brother, Darrell McBryde.”

The men banged their fists on the table top in a show of their

approval. Wick picked up the bag that lay next to his chair. From the

inside, he pulled out a brand new leather cut and laid it down upon the

table with the patch of the Forgotten Rebels MC featured

prominently. He noticed Darrell couldn’t take his eyes off the vest.

“On behalf of the Forgotten Rebels, I would like to thank you

for your service to our country,” Wick said, reciting the official

indoctrinate greeting. “But now it’s time to hang up your dog tags and

wear the colors of a forgotten hero.”

He held out the cut and with trembling hands, Darrell took it.

He traced over the new patches with a fingertip while the men

clapped and whistled.

“All that’s missing is your name,” Striker said.

“You could go with Peg Leg,” one man suggested. The others

chuckled.

“Man of Steel,” another said.

The names came flying out.
Tripod. Spare Parts
.

“Pogo is still my top pick,” Wick murmured.

“Thanks,” Darrell said dryly. “But if any of you fuckers call

me those names I’ll kick your ass.”

“One legged man in an ass kicking contest,” Striker snickered.

The men laughed, and Darrell grinned as he slipped on his cut.

“All right,” Wick said, deciding to take pity on Darrell. “We’ll

have a party tonight to celebrate your return. Now, we should talk

about the run scheduled—”

“Actually I have something to say,” Darrell said, speaking up.

“I want to propose a notion of ending our drug business.”

One second they’d been laughing and teasing one another, the

next silence descended as everyone stared at Darrell in shock. Anger

flashed through Wick.

“You don’t get to propose a notion, Darrell,” he said tightly.

“Especially not one that requires a full member vote.”

“Why not? I
am
a member now.”

“There’re procedures for how this works,” Wick replied. “You

can’t simply repeal a unanimous decision with a blindsided

announcement.”

“Then how do I go about it?” Darrell asked. “Or are you going

to shut me down every time?”

“If you feel that passionately about it, I’ll take it under

consideration,” Wick said.

Darrell snorted derisively and looked around the table. “I

spent a year in rehab learning how to fucking walk again after my leg

got blown off. I shared a hospital with all the soldiers addicted to the

shit we peddle in an effort to mask their pain. So when I come back

here and see that we’re contributing to hardships of our fellow

soldiers, I know what we’re doing is wrong. We’re part of their

problem.”

Some of the members shifted in their seats and Wick just

wanted to punch Darrell for the insubordination. He hadn’t had the

cut five minutes and already he was shaming what they did to make

money.

“This was put to a vote, Darrell,” he said tightly. “The club

agreed this was what they wanted. You can’t undo that without

another vote, and you have no authority to bring one about.”

Darrell shook his head. “You’re not listening to me. Everyone

here has served their country so you know what I’m talking about.

Too many of our brothers and sisters in arms are struggling, looking

for a way out. Some by suicide, some by drugs. We’re hypocrites if

we run meth.”

Wick pointed his finger to the door. “Leave, Darrell. You’re

dismissed from Church.”

“You’re kicking me out because you don’t want to listen to the

truth?”

“No, I’m kicking you out of here because you’re not obeying

protocol.”

“Fuck protocol!” Darrell yelled. “You’re not listening to me!

But I don’t know why I’m surprised. You’ve always had your own

agenda, Wick.”

“Enough, Darrell,” Wick snapped.

Darrell held up his hands. “And that’s the problem. No one

ever fucking listens, do they? You get a stack of hundreds lining your

pockets and suddenly your moral obligation seems too heavy to carry,

but I’ve been there myself, Wick. I scrapped the bottom of the barrel

and it’s an ugly place to be.”

He took one last look around the table, at each man, staring

lastly at Wick. Bitterness lined every bracket on his face and a thread

of remorse rolled through Wick upon seeing it. He hadn’t wanted the

club to become drug dealers, but he’d though it best at the time the

vote had gone through. The men needed money, and living in

southeast Missouri didn’t provide a whole helluva lot of options for

men like them. But Darrell’s words reminded him that things weren’t

always so black and white, and the path to hell was often lined with

good intentions.

He didn’t say anything, though, and only watched as Darrell

turned and stormed out of Church, slamming the door behind him.

The man had given him lots to think about.

His phone buzzed and he glanced at the text message. From

Parky, letting him know cops had just shown up outside the

compound, asking to come in.

“We’ve got a fucking problem,” he said to the others. “Seems

like the good sheriff has decided to darken our doorstep.”

He banged the gavel, ending Church, and hurried from the

room. Members were already hiding shit in the clubhouse, and the

girls were cleaning frantically.

“Striker,” he said. “With me.”

The two of them left the clubhouse and headed over the yard

to the bolted gate. He nodded a greeting at the prospect in the tower

keeping watch, and then unlocked the door to greet the police.

“Afternoon, Wick,” Sheriff McCoy said and gave him a rueful

smile. “Sorry to bother you but my office received a very unusual

complaint via email, and I have to follow up on it.”

“Complaint?” Wick asked, cocking his head. “About what?”

“Well, about the fact that you’ve kidnapped a woman.”

Wick blinked. “Is that a joke?”

Sheriff McCoy shook his head. “Afraid not.”

“And just who am I supposed to have kidnapped?”

“A woman by the name of Abbott Carney,” the sheriff replied.

Wick shared a grim look with Striker. “Yes, she’s here, but I

didn’t kidnap her.”

The sheriff frowned. “Oh. Well, I’m afraid I’m going to have

to see her and talk with her, Wick. Procedure.”

Wick turned to Striker. “Go get Abbott.”

“Sure,” he said, and gave the sheriff a hard look before turning

and marching back to the clubhouse.

“What’s going on, Wick?” Sheriff asked him in a low voice.

“I’m afraid you got played,” Wick said. “Abbott’s been on the

run from a man named Billy Walker for years. Hiding from him. I’m

guessing this email you got is just a way of him saying he found her.”

“Christ, and I just confirmed it for him, didn’t I?”

Wick nodded. “But I kinda figured he’d make his way here

sooner or later. The man’s been tracking her.”

“So you think this man is in Stevens?”

“Call it a gut instinct.”

Just then the door to the clubhouse opened and Abbott rushed

through, hurrying up to stand by his side. She had a wild, terrified

look in her eyes that he didn’t like at all.

“Was it your personal email or was it sent generically to the

department’s inbox?” she asked without greeting either of them.

The sheriff scratched his beard. “Are you Abbott Carney?”

“I am,” she confirmed. “I’m sorry, Sheriff, but where was the

email sent?”

“Now that you mention it, it was sent to my personal email,

which is odd because I don’t give out that information.”

“That’s because you’ve been hacked,” she said grimly.

“I’ll admit I’m not very computer savvy, but I do know about

firewalls,” the Sheriff said skeptically. “The department has one.”

“Firewalls don’t mean anything to Billy,” she said. “I think

he’s been tracking me through my computer. It’s the only thing I can

think of.”

“Miss Carney, if that’s true, there are proper channels you can

go through for protection—”

Abbott wrapped her arms around herself and shook her head.

“I’m afraid not, Sheriff, but thanks for the concern. As you can see,

I’m fine, and I’m here at my own free will.”

Sheriff McCoy looked like he wanted to argue more, but she

turned her face away. He sighed and tipped his hat. “I’m sorry to

bother you, Miss Carney. Have a nice day, Wick.”

He turned and left their doorway. Wick watched as the sheriff

got into his cruiser, waved, and drove away. When he looked down at

Abbott, she was frantically staring around the outside perimeter.

“What’s the matter?”

“He’s here,” she whispered. “I can feel him breathing down

my neck. Watching me. I have to go. I have to—”

Wick grabbed hold of her shoulders, cutting off her rambling

panic. “You don’t have to do anything but get on my bike so we can

go for a ride.”

“But he’s out there, right now!”

“And you don’t have to fight this alone anymore, Abbott. I’m

right here.” He held out his hand.

****