Rebel Revenge (Saint View Rebels Book 1)
Rebel Revenge: Chapter 2

By night, Psychos was an underground sex club filled with erotic displays of kinks that would blow the average person’s mind.

But by day, Psychos was a dive. A bar with sticky floors, ripped pool tables, and that damn clown with sharp teeth painted on the wall in terrifying detail.

I fucking hated that clown. A cold sweat broke out across the back of my neck every time I passed it. If I’d had it my way, I never would have stepped foot inside the premises with that thing staring at me the entire time.

There was only one thing that got me here day and night, and it sure as fuck wasn’t the cheap beer. I was sure people thought I had a drinking problem. Or hell, maybe a sex addiction.

Rebel was the only addiction I couldn’t fucking quit. I had no idea what it was about that little fairylike woman. She’d just shown up here one day, already acting like she owned the place. She’d rocked around in her short, pleated skirt and cropped midriff top, serving drinks to me and the boys from my MC. Her hair all wild, her eyes dark-rimmed with liner. She’d walked right up to me, leaned forward so her barely-there tits were in my face, and asked me if I was going home with anyone that night.

I’d been shocked speechless, while the guys around me had hooted and hollered, banging their heavy beer mugs on the wooden tabletop.

Rebel had smiled quietly and winked at me. “Even if you are going home with someone, I’d be interested in joining in.”

Heat flushed my face even now, just thinking about that night. She’d never been scared of me the way other women were. I knew I was nothing special to look at. I could fuck a club slut if I wanted to just get my dick wet, they wouldn’t say no. But I never had. I saw the way they feared me. The terror in their eyes as they took in my size, my scars, my tattoos.

I didn’t want a woman too scared to enjoy herself when she was in my bed.

But Rebel had never been like that. She’d never had any qualms about letting me between her thighs so I could make her come. Or climbing my body and riding my cock like she owned it.

I looked around the club for her now, gaze skimming past the naked women, couples having sex, or groups with their hands all over each other. Moans of pleasure filtered through the deeply sexy music pouring from the club’s speakers, and performers on stages writhed in various stages of undress or foreplay.

None of it did anything for me. It never did.

It was only ever her.

Nash, one of the club’s owners strode by, in a hurry to get somewhere.

“Hey.” I reached out and grabbed his arm.

He stopped and offered me his hand. “How’s it going, Fang? Where you been all week? We’ve missed you around here.”

I shrugged. “One of our sister chapters out in Florida needed some help with damage from a storm. Seemed like a good reason to take a beach break.”

Nash raised an eyebrow. “It’s nearly winter.”

“Not in Florida. Place is hot all the fucking time.”

Nash chuckled. The guy was probably five years older than me, but he had this settled-down vibe about him that I knew I didn’t share. I was anxious. Unsettled. Rebel usually calmed that feeling in me, but without her around, I was twitchy.

Nash eyed me, focusing in on my leg bouncing. “Rebel isn’t on tonight.”

“Didn’t ask if she was,” I answered too quickly.

He raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t need to, bro.”

I sighed, figuring there was no point bluffing when the guy clearly knew what was up. I wanted his info. “She always works the sex parties.” I knew because it was fucking torture, watching her walk around this place in anything from sexy lingerie to nipple tassels and a G-string. If the mood took her, it might be nothing but her birthday suit while she strutted around the club, one-hundred-percent confident in her own skin. It took everything in me not to toss her over my shoulder and storm through the club to replace somewhere private to sink my dick deep inside her.

But that wasn’t how she and I worked.

She wasn’t mine.

Even if I wanted her to be.

“She’s sick,” Nash explained. “She texted Bliss at the start of the week to say she had some sort of stomach bug and that she’d be out for a few days.”

“She’s been out all week?” I shifted uncomfortably. I’d never known her to take so much as a single sick day. She loved this place.

He slapped me on the shoulder. “She’s okay. She’ll be back on Monday.” He glanced around the room. “Plenty of other women around if you don’t want to wait… I know you two aren’t exclusive…”

I scowled at him.

He sniggered. “Yeah, like I thought. You don’t need to say a word.”

“Fuck off, Nash.”

He just laughed and carried on his way with an all-knowing expression, as if he knew everything just because he was dating Rebel’s best friend and they were all shacked up with my prez and some other dude.

Fuck that. Sharing my woman with two other men?

No thank you.

I shifted uncomfortably on the seat, remembering Rebel flirting with some asshole at the bar last week before I’d gone to Florida. I’d had no choice but to get up and leave. My club had needed me, and I had orders that had to be followed.

It was probably a good thing, though. If I’d stayed, I might have shoved the cocky, all-American asshole’s head through a window just for looking at her. Then Rebel would have gotten pissed and told me to fuck off, just like she did every other time I got possessive with her.

She wasn’t mine.

She’d reminded me of that a million times.

I needed it fucking tattooed on the back of my hand so I remembered.

My phone buzzed, and I picked it up, hitting a button to light up the screen.

Rebel

Hey. I need a favor.

“Speak of the devil,” I muttered beneath my breath. My heart hammered at just the sight of her name.

Fang

Anything. You need soup or something?

Rebel

Soup? Why?

Fang

I’m at the Psychos party. Nash said you were out sick.

There was a long pause, but I knew she’d read the message. Eventually, she messaged back.

Rebel

Yeah. Chest infection.

I frowned at the phone. Nash had said it was a stomach bug. But whatever, I wasn’t going to argue.

Fang

I’ll bring soup. And some of that chocolate you like. I can be there in ten.

Rebel

No. Don’t. I’m fine. I just need a favor. My mom is getting married on Saturday morning at the courthouse. Finishes at midday. Could a couple of the guys come pick us up and drive us to the reception? Doesn’t need to be you.

I made a face at the screen.

Fang

Why the fuck wouldn’t it be me? You think I’m gonna let you get on the back of Hawk’s bike?

I waited three whole songs for a reply.

It didn’t come. I waited two more, while staring real hard at that read symbol, willing her to type back.

She didn’t.

A hand wandered over my thigh, creeping closer to my fly.

I glanced over at the woman who owned it, and she gave me a drunken smile.

“Hey, handsome. Wanna have some fun?”

I said nothing.

She clearly took it as a yes. She shifted to kneel in front of my widespread legs and ran her tongue over her pink lips. With her gaze on me, she slipped her thumbs into the thin straps of her bra and tugged them down her shoulders.

Her tits spilled over the cups, large and full, nipples pink and erect, begging to be touched.

I was about as turned on as I’d been at my grandfather’s funeral.

“No thanks.” I stood and stepped away, brushing past the woman who called me a prick beneath her breath.

The insult bounced right off me.

I couldn’t have cared less.

I left the party behind. There was nothing of interest there for me. Not if Rebel wasn’t there.

Outside in the parking lot, people were still arriving, hiding their party outfits—or lack of—beneath coats. Someone yelled out to me, but I ignored them, only one thing on my mind.

On my bike, I gunned the engine and peeled out onto Saint View Strip, the main road that ran through the town. I knew it well. It had been home for the best part of a decade, and I knew which places to eat at and which would result in a weeklong case of food poisoning. I passed the strip club with its flickering neon sign and stopped my bike up two shops down, in front of the Chinese take-out store.

A little bell rang when I ducked my head to enter through the door, and the only person in the store glanced up from her phone. She darted a look over her shoulder toward the kitchen, then back at me, her bored gaze instantly switching to one of fear.

“We don’t keep money here.”

“Do you keep soup here?” I took a ten-dollar bill from my pocket and put it on the countertop.

She edged toward me slowly with clear distrust.

I couldn’t even blame her. She was barely as tall as Rebel, which made me practically twice her size. If I’d intended any ill harm, there would have been nothing she could do to stop me, unless she had a gun stashed back there between packets of rice and sweet and sour sauce.

She snatched the bill, crumpling it in her fingers, then pointed at the big silver vats on the stove. “What flavor?”

“Chicken, please, ma’am.”

She nodded and pulled down a clear plastic container and matching lid. With one eye on me the entire time, she ladled in the soup, fitted the lid, and then pushed it across to me.

“Thanks. Keep the change.”

She sighed with audible relief as I left the store, the door swinging shut behind me.

Her reaction wasn’t unusual, but it didn’t mean I liked it. It just made me appreciate Rebel all the more. I hated the idea of her lying in bed unwell for an entire week while I was away. I should have checked in on her.

Not your girl to do that.

“Fuck that,” I muttered, slipping into the convenience store and picking up her favorite chocolate bar, the same one I always had in the little bar fridge in my room at the clubhouse. I hated nuts in chocolate, but I liked watching her eat them because she made all sorts of pleasurable noises at the taste, and it reminded me of the sounds she made when she let me put my tongue on her clit.

I stowed my purchases in the saddlebag on my bike and drove through the unusually quiet Saint View streets to her apartment.

I’d only been here once before, but I’d memorized her building and her apartment number. The place was a shit heap, in desperate need of repairs, but I took the stairs two at a time, not bothered by my boots thumping even though it was late. There were plenty of other noises from behind closed doors. Arguments. TVs. A dog barking. It kind of reminded me of the clubhouse. You learned to sleep through noise when you lived in a place like this.

I stopped outside her door and stared at the eviction notice pinned to it. I didn’t like the look of that. I didn’t have much in the way of cash to give her, but I could have a ‘friendly chat’ with her landlord. Though I already knew she’d be pissed if I did. Miss Fucking Independent would probably rather sleep on the streets than ask me for help.

But that was an argument for another time, when she was well. I sucked in a breath, suddenly nervous. I’d never just turned up at her place out of the blue. Before I could lose my nerve, I rapped my knuckles across the door. “Rebel. It’s me.” Then I realized she might not even recognize my voice. “Fang…I mean.”

I squeezed my eyes shut and slumped against her doorframe. Fucking hell. I couldn’t even get a proper sentence out around this woman. And I wasn’t even facing her.

The mattress squeaked from inside the room, so I knew she was home. Maybe she was sleeping.

I sighed, putting the soup and chocolate down at my feet and pulling out my phone.

Fang

Soup at your door. Feel better. x

I walked away, down a flight of stairs, then paused when the lock on her door disengaged. It opened a crack, just wide enough for her hand to poke out and grope around the floor until she snagged on the plastic bag with her hot soup and probably melting chocolate bar.

She dragged it inside and closed the door without showing her face, the locks clicking again.

I waited for a text to come in, but nothing did.

Eventually, I wrote one of my own. If I was doing her a favor, the least she could do was give me one in return. It was a simple request, but an important one. Because I really didn’t want to have to kill one of my brothers for having her arms wrapped around them when it could have been me.

Fang

We’ll be there for the wedding. But, Rebel? You will be on the back of my bike. Only mine.