Finn: Stone Warriors, #2

By Chris Redding

Protect the Vulnerable

The Stone Warriors have had that motto since their inception and their leader Finn takes it to heart when he realizes Hunterdon Custom's newest customer, Colleen, is the victim of domestic abuse. Finn takes her in and the club protects her. While Finn doesn't think he's good enough for her, he still falls in love. Who will protect him from Colleen?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Chris Redding
• Release date: May 10, 2022
• ISBN: 9798201112707

Chris Redding

Chris discovered at age ten she had a knack for storytelling. Ever since, she has wanted to be a published author. She was born and raised on Pennsylvania, holds a BA in Journalism from Penn State and is an established author of novels, novellas, shorts stories, newspaper articles and ghost-written books.  She has published mainly fiction, with a specialty in paranormal romance, but has written about contemporary romance, romantic suspense and cozy mystery for herself and for others.  She is actively involved in the professional writing community, and conducts workshops to help other writers. She lives in New Jersey with her family and animals. Writing is her passion and when she isn't writing, she practices yoga and runs.  Get her Newsletter and keep up with what is happening.  Go to www.chrisreddingauthor.com/contact.  Happy reading!

Book preview

Chapter One

Colleen Dreyer shifted down to fourth gear in her 1997 Porsche 911 as she took a turn on Route 32 in Pennsylvania. She lived in New Jersey, but this was her favorite way to commute to work in Lambertville. This road was windy and more challenging than the same road on the other side of the Delaware River.

This never gets old.

Her father had left her the almost classic Porsche when he died. It was one of the last air-cooled 911s and she drove it every day to her art gallery, Art on the Delaware. Well, not in the snow, but that only happened a few times a year.

She slowed as she entered the small town of New Hope which was across that same river from Lambertville New Jersey. Turning left, she slowed even more as she entered the bridge that would take her back to her home state.

Feeling a little let down when she had to stop driving the bright red machine with black trim, she shoved away those feelings. A light shone in her art gallery that she knew she hadn’t left on. Suspicious, she parked her car in the alley behind her gallery and stared at the light. She left lights on at the front, but not the back. When she pulled the door open, it was unlocked.

Drew, her boyfriend, had left early this morning, but he had no reason to be in her gallery. Yes, he owned the building and had a key to her shop, but he was never here without her. He had no reason to be. He had his own office in another building he owned.

Drew?

No answer. Should she call the police? She hadn’t experienced any kind of crime in the small town in New Jersey. Not even vandalism. She doubted that there was anything wrong, but she should be sure.

She stepped back into the alley and pulled out her phone.

911 what is your emergency?

I’m a shop owner in Lambertville and I arrived this morning to my back door unlocked.

Are you sure you locked it when you last left?

Yes. I did.

She had a distinct memory of it. The alleyway had been a little dark so she’d used her phone flashlight to make sure she’d turned the key the right way.

Okay, ma’am. Give me your address and I’ll have an officer out there as soon as possible.

Colleen recited her address and then hung up. A minute later a Lambertville cop pulled down the alley. It was a small town. He was probably getting coffee nearby when the call came in. He climbed out and put on his hat. The day had dawned a little cool for a spring day but promised to warm up.

The dreaded humidity wouldn’t arrive for a few more months and Colleen enjoyed days like this before it makes its appearance.

Colleen Dreyer? the officer asked.

I smiled. Yes. That’s me.

Wait here. I’ll look around.

Thanks.

He returned with a sputtering Drew Pinkerton, cuffed and complaining. What the fuck is going on here? Colleen?

Do you know this man? the officer asked.

Collen wanted to laugh but she doubted that Drew saw the humor in the situation. Yes I do, officer. He owns the building and is my boyfriend.

Why’d you call the cops? I was having a meeting here, Drew said.

She was going to pay for this. He was going to be pissed at her all day. Thankfully he didn’t help her run the gallery. He was the silent partner, but majority owner. She’d had to borrow money from him to start it and for once he’d supported her in something she wanted to do.

You sure he’s okay? the officer asked.

Yes, officer. Thanks.

The man uncuffed Drew then climbed back into his patrol car. Drew rubbed his wrists as he watched the cop drive away. He turned to Colleen, anger in his eyes. What the fuck?

You already said that. I didn’t know you were using my gallery for a meeting. You might have mentioned it.

He stepped closer to her. It’s my gallery also.

If you’d warned me I wouldn’t have been worried about the back door being open.

It’s my fault?

She didn’t want to say it out loud, but it was. What was your meeting about?

She brushed past him not waiting for an answer. He grabbed her arm. She yelped. None of your business.

She looked down at his fingers pressing into her arm and tugged. Let go. You’re hurting me.

He released her arm, but his gaze bore into her. It’s my business, too and I’ll conduct meetings if I want to.

All I’m saying is that if I knew you were here, I wouldn’t have called the cops. A little courtesy goes a long way, Drew.

She entered her gallery, looking around, wondering where the other people involved in the meeting were. You done?

She settled at her desk as Drew glowered in the doorway. We’re done. The cop scared them away.

Why would a cop scare them away? She chose not to ask. Better to appease him and get him to move along. I’m firing up the coffee maker. You need any?

He glared at her then backed out of her office. "No. I have better coffee at my office.

Drew left.

Then have your meetings at your office, she said when the back door slammed shut.

He was gone and couldn’t have heard her. With that done, Colleen started her coffee maker and started her day. What had Drew been doing in her gallery? He didn’t usually come in here. At least he didn’t make a habit of it.

The situation weighed on her mind as she looked around to make sure everything was in place. Drew had been acting strangely lately so maybe she was just on high alert because of that.

She shrugged and unlocked her front door.

Hopefully, she’d have some customers today.

***

Finn Hennessy took off his respirator mask and admired the paint job he’d just done on a PT Cruiser. The Chrysler product had come into Hunterdon Customs for an overhaul and the owner decided on a new paint job. Nothing original, he’d said.

Finn, the paint specialist at Hunterdon Customs, a resto-mod shop in Hunterdon County New Jersey, came up with a green that he’d called Holy Guacamole. It resembled the flesh of an avocado, but with some metallic tones to it.

Nice, his best friend Gideon, said from the doorway.

Gideon was also the accountant for Hunterdon Customs, a shop run by the motorcycle club Stone Warriors. The club consisted mostly of ex-cons trying to make a better life. They were completely legitimate and made money for their charity by restoring and modifying cars. After a successful showing at an auto show in Manhattan, they were filled up with orders.

That meant Finn’s paint booth ran most days.

Thanks.

I think the client will love it.

It won’t look like any other Cruiser in the state for sure. Finn set down the mask and pulled off the suit that covered his regular clothing. You need something?

I need you to look at a Mustang.

Oh? Finn said.

He didn’t usually consult on any part of the build anymore except for the paint. Their other paint guy had moved out of state and when the club found out Finn had an eye for it, he was the designated painter from then on.

The father is having us do some upgrades on it and the daughter, the primary driver, wants it painted. Purple. She’s brought in a swatch of the color she wants.

I’m guessing Dad is not onboard with the paint color.

No. I think he wants us to back him up.

Okay. I need to wash my hands and hit the head, but I’ll be in your office in five minutes.

Thanks, Finn. We’ll be in the exam bay. Meet us there.

Finn took care of business