Page 42 of Rebels & Rejects
I can feel the heat from the alcohol fanning the flames of my anger and pushing it to new heights, and before I’ve really thought through the decision, I’m out of my chair, following the sounds of loud music. The guys have done a great job transforming the lobby into a bar for all of them to hang out in during their downtime.
As I walk in, I spot Bones at the bar with a few other guys. He’s holding a beer, and as he lifts it to his lips, I call out, “Nope, put that down. I need you to drive me somewhere.” I’m far too drunk to drive myself. I fish my keys out of my pocket and toss them to him.
“Sure thing, boss.” He sets down his beer and follows me outside. The parking lot is full of the various vehicles belonging to Reject members. I bought a few cars from Arnie for club purposes, and a few of the guys have bought themselves bikes or cars.
I make my way to a black Cadillac Escalade at the far end of the lot. “Where are we going?” Bones asks as he hops in behind the wheel, and I climb in the passenger side.
“Strip Tease.”
With a nod of his head, he starts the engine and pulls out of the lot, and it doesn’t take us long to make it across town to the club.
Alcohol is still coursing through my system, driving my actions as I storm into the club. Not that anyone is any the wiser. The loud bang of the door is drowned out by the heavy beat of some song through the speakers; the customers too caught up in watching and whistling over the dancers on stage or ordering drinks at the bar to notice my presence. That’s fine, I’m here for one person, and one person only. I cast my eyes around the crowded room until I spot her delivering drinks to a table at the back of the room. My gaze stays fixed on her as I close the distance between us, skirting around anyone in my way and nearly bowling some guy over. My mission is single-minded—to get to the bane of my existence. I’m not entirely sure what happens then. My drunk mind hasn’t quite figured that part out yet.
She turns to face me just before I crash into her, snatching the empty tray from her hand and dropping it on the floor as I use my superior strength to barrel her backward through the staff entrance door that I know leads into the back hallway, where the manager’s office and dressing rooms are located.
“What—” Her words catch on a gasp as I wrap my fingers around her narrow wrist, pushing down on the door handle, so we tumble through it into the empty hallway beyond. We stumble backward, my weight pressing her against the opposite wall, so she’s forced to look up at me.
Her eyes, wide with surprise, narrow in annoyance when she realizes who’s disrupted her otherwise regular shift. I momentarily get distracted by the unique azure blue of her irises, churning with tumultuous clouds that speak to the complex nature of the alluring enigma glowering at me as if she’d like to slit my throat.
“Did you even talk to him?” I bark.
Confusion flashes across her face before a sharpness enters her eyes. “You’re drunk. I can smell it on you.” She pushes against my chest, but I’m still pinning her to the wall, and she doesn’t stand a chance of moving me unless I want to be moved—which I sure as hell don’t.
“Did you?”
Her nostrils flare. “Surprisingly, he’s uninterested in getting involved in your suicide mission.”
I eliminate the slither of space between us, caging her in more tightly against the wall. So tight, I can feel her soft curves pressing against me, feel the heat of her body warming my skin. I didn’t have a chance to take in what she was wearing before—or more importantly, the lack of what she was wearing—but now that I feel her breasts pushing against my chest, I can’t help the way my gaze dips, taking in the rapid rise of her chest, matching her short, sharp pants.
“Why would you even risk everything you’ve built just to go after them? Are you seriously that power-hungry that you’ll jeopardize the lives of your men?”
My eyes snap up to meet her tumultuous blue gaze, narrowing to a glare as I slam my hand into the wall beside her head, making her jump. My lip curls back on a snarl. “My men know what they’re risking. They know what they’re fighting for.”
“Half of yourmenare nothing more than children. They have no idea what they want.”
I bark out a cold, caustic laugh. “You have no idea what my men have been through, the lives they’ve led. Like me, they’re tired of letting someone else dictate their lives, walk all over them, and tell them what to do. Where you see children and a gang fighting for territory, I see men that deserve the chance to fight for something they believe in, and a gang that wants to do right by the people of Black Creek.”
By the time I’m finished, she stares up at me with wide eyes, speechless for once. Her lips are slightly parted, drawing my gaze to her plump lower lip. I find myself captivated by the way it glistens in the light of the hallway, and whether it’s the alcohol or this vixen is some kind of witch, I find myself murmuring, “Have you ever had your life upturned in a single moment? One second everything was going along as normal, and in the next, all you’ve ever known has gone up in flames and been burnt to ashes?”
A heavy silence falls between us, the air thick with the weight of my words. I dare not look her in the eye. I’m not used to moments of vulnerability—I’m not used to vulnerability at all. I shut down any soft emotions the day Evie was taken. That softness is for boys. For children. It’s a weakness that can be exploited. Yet, here I am, sharing the most broken part of myself with a girl I know nothing about. One I don’t trust.
I push off the wall and move to turn my back on her, intent on leaving. I have no idea what I was thinking coming here; what I thought it would achieve. Chalk it up to drunken intentions and desperation.
The last thing I expect is the one-syllable word that she whispers so quietly, for a second, I think I imagined it.
“Yes.”
That one word pauses me in my tracks, and I slowly lift my gaze to meet her eyes, seeing the honesty reflected in them. For the first time since I laid eyes on her in the Satans’ clubhouse, I see what she never allowed me to glimpse before. Her own vulnerability. The pain she carries every day that’s incredibly similar to my own.
I lose myself in her eyes for a moment, taking some comfort in the fact someone else feels that same aching loss gnawing away on their insides that I do. Eventually, I find the strength to look away, and without a backward glance, I turn on my heel, leaving Red and the club behind.
Chapter 16
I’m still playing Cain’s words on repeat the next day as I let myself into the apartment.Combined with what Oliver told me about how they plan on taking down the Antonellis, I can only assume they did something to Cain—and possibly Oliver?
I empathize with him. I really do. I know what it’s like to have your entire life torn to shreds??ripped into so many fragments that you don’t even know where to begin with picking up the pieces. I got my revenge on the man who destroyed my life. He was my very first kill; the reason behind what I do—the driving force of the Reaper. So I understand the need for retribution more than anyone, but there’s a massive difference between going after some gangster low-life and the entire Antonelli empire. If he was even going after one person within their organization, I could maybe get behind that. Yes, it would be challenging, but it wouldn’t be fucking impossible.
Despite how much he grates on my fucking nerves, I actually do wish I could help him. While I spend most of my time around Cain wanting to gouge his eyes out—and ignoring my damp panties—no one deserves to feel that clawing need to right the wrong against you. I understand that feeling... how it starts off as a small seed of anger, warming the pit of your stomach, but over time it grows. It takes root in your insides, twining around your heart and embedding itself in your soul. It digs itself so deep that vengeance becomes all you know. Everything you think about. You exist solely for that one purpose, and you just can’t stop until you’ve achieved it—irrespective of the risks and potential casualties.
