Resurrection (Wesson Rebel MC Series Book 3) Read Online Free PDF Page B

that time he spent nurturing me, he should’ve been rallying for a comeback. He lost his rightful position for me. And now, can get it back.
    I dig into my leather purse and pull out the set of keys that make me want to cry. The ‘best daughter’ key chain is a reminder of how amazing my father truly was. I feel Prophet’s eyes on me. It makes me resent him. These are private moments. Not something I want to share with anyone, let alone someone who hates me for what another woman did. “Wait here.” I hold my head high as I walk to the garage and open the padlock. The rusty lock whines and I use all my strength to make the key turn the tumbler. It gives with a heavy clank. The chains rattle as I pull them free.
    The building is at the end of a long drive, set off from the road. I doubt anyone has been by in ages. I step inside and spy the four covered cars. They’re all black, nondescript sedans with hidden compartments in the back, near the spare tire. Identities are in the safe in the corner . I don’t need them this time, Dad. It’s a resurrection, not an evasion. My heels echo over the concrete ground as I walk to the car closest to me and pull off the cover. Dust flies and I turn my head, coughing. The car still gleams like it did when we waxed it last. It looks good, but I know I’ll need to put some work into it before it’ll run. I turn around and sign, “Do you know anything about cars?”
    “A little, you?”
    “I know enough. Please go bring the gas I brought from the station and the new battery. ” He nods, and I unlock the door with my keys. Sliding behind the wheel, I say a silent thank you to my father. I used to think he was insane; all the drills he made us run, the plans he had ready to put in motion at a moment’s notice. Now, I wonder if he expected this from his brother someday. Crafty bastard.
    Why didn’t you do more to take him down, Dad? He should be the one in the ground, not you.
    Family can be a weakness as well as a strength. I pop the hood, drop my purse in the passenger seat, and shrug off my jacket.
    Prophet returns and raises an eyebrow.
    “I’m not afraid to get my hands dirty,” I sign with a huff.
    He smirks and I roll my eyes. He thinks he has me all figured out and it pisses me off. I use the anger to fuel me. It’s easier than thinking about the issues that steal the wind from my sails. We work well as a team when we’re not talking. I remove the battery and begin to spray the ether into the carburetor. Satisfied, I straighten. “Okay, put in the gas and we’ll give it a try.”
    He nods.
    If ever a miracle was going to happen… I crank the engine. It sputters, but catches.
    He looks impressed.
    I grin.
    Never underestimate a Lorello.
     
     

Prophet/Charles
     
    I don’t want to admire her, but she keeps pulling tricks out of her bag. Resilience is a necessary trait. Not every woman has it. Whatever her flaws, she’s not waiting around for someone to save her.
    Unlike Jewel.
    The thought of the Judas makes my anger flare. It pulls me from the moment as we back out of the driveway and turn onto the road. The tires crunch over the dry dirt and I’m back, living my worst nightmare as the horrific memory plays in my head…
    ….The room spins. I close my eyes. My stomach is sour and it’s only by sheer force of will, I keep my lunch from climbing back up my throat. Clutching my bedpost I wait for the spell to pass. I’ve been on a downhill decline since everything happened with my family. We hadn’t been on the best of terms since my marriage to Jewel, and now I’ll never get to make up for the lost time. It’s an unbearable burden. I stumble.
    “What are you doing out of bed, Chuck? You are not yourself right now.” Jewel slips in.
    I manage a smile. She’s been my saving grace through all this, keeping me upbeat and hanging on. “I have to go to the bathroom.”
    “Well, let me help you. You know I’m here for whatever you need.” She wraps her arm