Make Me Forget: The Walker Brothers, Book 4 E-Book

Amanda Adams

• Herausgeber: Tydbyts Media
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2021

Beschreibung

At last a woman will bring Derek to his knees in this final book of The Walker Brothers series.
Derek is in Vegas for his brother's wedding.

A bachelor party. A little gambling. A week of fun with his brothers.

What could possibly go wrong?

He could fall in love, that's what.

But when her past comes calling, it will challenge everything he thinks he knows about family, loyalty...and love.

Don't miss this final installment of the Walker Brothers as the eldest, Derek, Mr. Bad Boy Biker, protector and defender of the family, meets his match. Sparks fly. You've been warned...

Leseprobe

Make Me Forget

The Walker Brothers, Book 4

Amanda Adams

Contents

Make Me Forget

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Epilogue

VIP Reader List

Books by Amanda Adams

About the Author

Make Me Forget

Derek Walker is in Vegas for his brother's wedding.

A bachelor party. A little gambling. A week of fun with his brothers.

What could possibly go wrong?

He could fall in love, that's what.

He just might meet his match…but when her past comes calling, it will challenge everything he thinks he knows about family, loyalty...and love.

Copyright 2017 Amanda Adams

Make Me Forget: The Walker Brothers, Book 4

Cover design Copyright 2017 by eBook Indie Covers

Literary Work, First Edition. August 2017

Copyright 2017 by Amanda Adams

Published By Tydbyts Media

All rights reserved.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, people, places and events are completely a product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to any persons, living or dead, is completely coincidental.

Created with Vellum

Prologue

Derek Walker pulled into the lawyer’s driveway and turned off the engine to stare at the icicles and snow hanging from the giant blue spruce next to the drive. It looked like a giant Christmas tree, the snow and ice glittered in the bright Colorado sunshine like a million tiny diamonds. It was beautiful, and tragic, and reminded him of the only two women who had ever mattered to him. Both dead.

The pain was like a pitchfork shoved through his chest, ice cold and sharp as broken glass.

Derek looked at himself in the rear-view mirror, into the dark brown eyes that reminded him so much of his grandmother. He took several deep breaths as he stared, making sure he had his shit together before he got out of the car. Today was going to hurt, a lot, and he needed to be strong for his brothers. They depended on him to be tough, to keep his shit together. If he lost it, they would fall like bricks behind him.

The steering wheel squeaked as he unknowingly attempted to strangle the life out of it while he paused to steady his resolve and wrap the pain up in layers of mind-numbing logic. He exhaled with relief when his brother, Mitchell, younger by six months, pulled onto the driveway behind him in his cherry-red sports car. Their youngest brother Jake, already here, had parked his white truck on the street smack in the middle of a pile of snow the plows had left behind. The sight made him smile. Jake was all country; because what else was a giant pile of snow on the side of the road for, if not to park on?

Relieved to be able to move, to stop thinking, stop remembering, Derek opened the door of his SUV, stepped out and slammed it closed behind him. He was dressed, as usual, in black, a stark contrast to Mitchell’s dress pants and sport coat. Mitchell used to raise hell, but had gone over to the dark side, the respectable side. A fucking surgeon who wore dress pants and a jacket to work every day. But when it came to women, they were both in the same boat; not interested in anything long term. Hell, that seemed to be the running theme among the four brothers. They’d all been adopted from hellholes and saved by the mother whose memory they were all here to honor.

Losing her ripped them all to pieces but in this moment, Derek needed to play his role. He straightened his shoulders, breathed in deep and twisted the kinks out of his neck. Time to do what he always did, take care of his family. He could hurt later. He could rage and race his Ducati Monster around curved mountain roads like a demon chased him. Later. Right now he had one job…to keep his shit together. To be an anchor for his brothers. That was all.

Mitchell nodded at Derek and, as always, his brother fell in step beside him as they made their way up the driveway to the front door. Neither of them spoke. They didn’t need to. They both knew why they were here, and it sucked.

Mrs. Klasky opened the door in a pair of navy-blue pants and an oversized, cream-colored sweater. She was pushing eighty, but had a sparkle in her eyes and a practical manner that Derek appreciated. Derek didn’t play games. Life was too short for that shit. If he hated someone, or wanted them in bed, they knew about it.

“Come in. Come in. Jake is already here.” She motioned them inside and Derek stepped into the hallway with Mitchell a couple steps behind. When Derek looked over his shoulder at her, she smiled. “Still as handsome as ever, I see. Straight on back to the kitchen, boys. I made lemonade. And I have cookies, Derek. Your favorite.”

Derek felt his face heat and Mitchell, as usual, aware of everything going on around him, ran some much needed interference. Mrs. Klasky had always pampered Derek the most, had a sweet spot for him a mile wide. Which was nice, in an uncomfortable way. And he knew, without a doubt, that Mitchell would give him shit about it later. Mitchell’s grinning reply confirmed that. “Thanks, Mrs. Klasky. We can’t wait to have some of your cookies.”

Derek coughed into his hand and took the opportunity to hit Mitchell on the back of the head, hard, as they followed her past a wall filled with family photos and sepia-toned portraits of the Klasky family’s ancestors. Shag green carpet ran wall to wall where it met with ancient wood paneling that had probably been installed in the seventies. And an old song tip-toed through the outskirts of Derek’s mind, though he couldn’t remember the title. He had a vague recollection of John Lennon writing a song about burning some girl’s awful wood paneling, and he could understand why.

Jake sat in his usual spot at the Klasky kitchen table, in the hardwood oak chair closest to the twenty-year-old sofa covered with a hideous paisley print.

Derek hadn’t been in the house in years. It still looked the same. Felt the same. Smelled the same. Mitchell smacked Jake on the back by way of greeting. His baby brother was the youngest, but the little fucker had outgrown them all by about five inches and a good fifty pounds. Put a pair of cowboy boots and a hat on the kid and he looked like a linebacker for the Dallas Cowboys. Except he was too pretty for that. And too damn soft-hearted. Jake still lived on the family ranch, taking care of horses and doing his cowboy shit. He tossed around hundred-pound hay bales like they were cracker boxes. And as the baby, Jake never passed up an opportunity to rub their noses in the fact that he could kick every single one of his older brothers’ asses.

Derek appreciated his brother’s love of the country life. They’d all lived on the ranch after the adoption, and the quiet had soothed his anger in a way nothing else could have. But after a while, the isolation became too hard to bear. There was too much space and too much time to think about the past.

He took a deep breath as the scents of cookies, lemonade and pine-scented cleaner surrounded him.

“Here you go, boys.” Mrs. Klasky set a glass of lemonade in front of each of the boys. Derek knew exactly what it would taste like and his mouth began to water before the drink even reached his mouth. He remembered being draped across that ugly-ass couch waiting for his mother and Mrs. Klasky to finish their small-town gossip on more than one occasion, pretending not to listen, but absorbing every word. He knew who was dating whom, who got caught cheating, driving drunk, fighting in the bars. He always listened. It was a hard earned skill that had kept him alive when he was younger.

“Thanks.”  Mitchell, always the gentleman, spoke for both of them.

The doorbell chimed and Mrs. Klasky excused herself. “That’ll be Chance.” Mrs. Klasky disappeared again and came back with his brother Chance, the newly blooded attorney just a year out of law school. Chance rolled in wearing a suit and tie, and an odd sense of pride twisted in Derek’s chest. His brothers were all okay. They’d made something of themselves, had overcome their shit pasts. Derek knew his mother deserved all of the credit, but he took some small satisfaction for the heads he’d beat in, the bullies he’d threatened, the heat he’d taken off his brothers, shit they never knew about.

His brothers were everything. Family was everything to Derek. His grandmother had taught him that before she died. Not his worthless father, who took off before Derek was born. Not his abusive, alcoholic mother who made his life a living hell. But he’d been held when he was small, he’d been loved. And he knew, despite all the shit he had survived, he’d been lucky.

“Chance.” Derek got up from his seat at the end of the table and wrapped Chance up in a hug.

“Hey, loser.” After a quick hug, Chance patted Derek on the shoulder. Jake and Mitchell took their turns greeting their law dog brother. Even given the situation, Derek’s smile widened as the joy of having the brothers together in one place emanated from his chest and flooded his head like a jolt of adrenaline. Mrs. Klasky’s husband, also an attorney, had invited them here for something regarding their late mother’s estate. They’d all assumed everything was taken care of, so this little get-together was a bit awkward.

“Late to the party, as usual.” Jake grabbed Chance and lifted him off the floor as if his brother were a little girl. The two youngest, Jake and Chance, were close and Mitchell grinned at Jake’s antics. It was good to be together. Always good.

“And you still smell like cow patties and hay bales.” Chance chuckled but Jake wasn’t going to take the insult lying down.

“Damn right, brother. And you smell like you had your ass wiped by a bathroom attendant with a perfumed moist towelette. You turnin’ into one of those metrosexual, city boys?” Jake set Chance down and Mitchell answered for him.

“Naw, man. That would be me.” Mitchell grinned and grabbed Chance around the shoulders.

Chance stood there in his suit, and as usual, he was the only one in a tie. Even Mr. Klasky, their mother’s eighty-year-old attorney, was in khakis and a golf shirt.

“Now that you’re all here, we can begin.” Mr. Klasky rolled in a small television with the old-fashioned VCR combo. Jake kicked out a chair with his foot and Chance sat in it, tugging on his tie to loosen the noose around his neck. He’d just started working at a well-respected law firm in the city. Poor bastard worked almost as many hours as Mitchell did as a second-year surgical resident.

They all thanked Mrs. Klasky as she served them a tray of chocolate chip cookies, just as she’d been doing since they were in grade school. She gave Derek an extra pat on the cheek as she passed him and Mitchell hid his grin behind his hand. Derek kicked him under the table.

Mrs. Klasky smiled as she walked back to the counter and stood, leaning against the wall. Jake offered her his seat, but she shooed him away. “You boys are going to want to be sitting down for this.”

“All due respect, Mr. Klasky, but Mother’s estate was taken care of months ago when she first got sick.” Chance spoke up and Derek watched Mrs. Klasky’s expression as something close to anticipation flashed behind her eyes. What the hell were his mother’s old friends up to?

“Yes. Yes. I know.” The older man bent over, looking for an outlet in the wall so he could plug in the dinosaur of a television.

“Then why are we here?” Chance’s gaze darted from Mr. Klasky, who had finally found an outlet and was shoving the electrical prongs into it, to his wife, who glowered at him with a raised eyebrow until he added, “Sir.”

Mr. Klasky stood up and rubbed his hands together like he couldn’t wait to spring a huge surprise on them. Derek shifted in his seat and thrummed his fingers on the table. Derek hated surprises.

“Well, boys, I promised your momma that I would get you all together today, six weeks to the day after she passed. God rest her soul.”

“But why? Everything’s been handled.” Chance leaned forward, in total lawyer mode.

“Not everything.” Mrs. Klasky pulled four envelopes from her apron pocket. Each looked like it would hold an oversized birthday card. She walked to the table and handed one to each of them. “Don’t open them yet. You have to watch the video first.”

Chance’s envelope was green. Jake’s was plain white. Mitchell’s was a faded red. And Derek inspected the card in his hand, the envelope a bright, sunny yellow with his mother’s cursive handwriting on the front.

Fuck. Leave it to their mother to pull this shit from beyond the grave. She always had been two or three steps ahead of her boys. Always. That was how she’d straightened them out. Their mother always knew what was going on with her sons, sometimes even before they knew themselves.

“Holy hell.” Jake leaned back in his seat and started tapping his cowboy hat against his knee, which was code for an impending volcanic eruption.

Mr. Klasky shoved an old VHS tape into the player and the fuzzy screen went black for a few seconds. The old tape began to make a whirring noise as it played.

Mitchell sat with a grin on his face and his elbows on the table. Derek ignored them all as his mom’s voice echoed through the crappy television speakers. The video feed made an odd knocking sound as the image of his mother leaning forward to check the camera came on. Satisfied, she nodded then sat down in a chair positioned so her face would fill the small screen.

She looked young and healthy, strong. Seeing her look like that hurt, reminded him of how horrible she’d looked when the cancer ate her alive from the inside out.

Shit.

“Hello, my precious boys. I’m going to make this tape and give it to Mr. Klasky just in case something happens to me. I don’t plan on going anywhere, but if I do, I want you boys to know I loved you more than anything and I was always proud, every single day, to be your mother.”

Jake sniffed and turned his head away. Mitchell leaned forward with a sigh and Chance was holding his breath. Derek froze, afraid to move, afraid to leak the smallest reaction. If he started to allow the pain out, it would explode and never stop, rip him to pieces easy as Shrapnel slicing through paper.

“You boys know how much I always pushed you to follow your own hearts. Follow your dreams, I say. Well, I’ve been thinking about this a lot this past year. Derek is fourteen now, and I see it happening already.

“Life is going to get ahold of you boys, and drain your dreams right out of you. I know. The real world is hard and unforgiving. Boys don’t get to have dreams anymore. They have to be men. The world is going to expect you to be hard. And I know you can be hard as nails. All of you. I know where you came from. You were born into a hard world. I tried to show you a different life, but I’m afraid. I’m afraid you’re going to grow up and forget who you really are. I don’t want you to forget your dreams.

“So, I did something a little crazy. Maybe you’ll remember, maybe you won’t, but on my birthday this year, I asked each of you to write a very special card—”

His mother’s laughter filled the quiet kitchen. That laugh. No matter how messed up he’d get in his head, that laugh had always made him feel like everything was going to be okay.

“I’m going to ask Mr. Klasky to hold on to these cards for a while. Someday, I’ll die. Maybe I’ll be ninety, maybe not, but if I’m gone and you need reminding, he’s going to remind you of who you really are.”

Her expression changed from mischievous and full of herself to solemn and serious. She leaned forward until her face filled the entire screen.

“I love you. Each and every one. And you each made a promise to me, all those years ago. And dead or not, I expect you to keep it.”

She threw her head back and laughed, the sparkle back in her eye. Oh, she knew she’d won. She was gone and her boys couldn’t even argue with her now. No push back, no whining, no denial. She had them all by the shorthairs and she’d known it, all those years ago when she made the recording, she’d known her boys would keep their promises, because that was how she’d raised them.