Page 5 of His Loyal Rebel

They were never in a real relationship anyway. She got tired of being put last in Big's long list of errands his club had him running. He couldn't expect her to pay half the rent, pay for the food, and sleep with him when he started treating her like a second thought.

No matter how hard she tried, she'd never settle like Angie, happy for any attention from any man, as long as her bed wasn't empty. She also wasn't going to hang around a biker clubhouse. Women like that weren't treated with respect.

"You need to pay if you stay here." Angie bent at the waist, gathered her hair, and put the strands into a ponytail before looking at her. "Fifty bucks a week."

"To sleep in your spare room?" She shook her head. "I'll buy groceries. That's it."

The music came back on, blaring throughout the house.

Angie shouted, "Whatever, but you have to keep the place clean."

Leaving her sister in the room, she passed the biker in the living room, hitting a bong as he headed toward the bedroom. She looked over her shoulder and read the back of his vest. Her lip curled in disgust.

She wasn't sure if it was the fact that her sister was dating a loser or that the Tarkio Motorcycle Club vest had her instantly disliking the man. He was from the same club that the man who'd ordered her to leave Missoula—as if he was mayor or something.

Angie's boyfriend had a long tail of hair at the back of his neck, swinging back and forth across the leather vest. She had an urge to find a pair of scissors and snip the long line of hair from his head.

Her sister was pathetic. Angie would never find whatever she searched for in life because she always wanted what everyone else had. The bikers would continue to treat her like a whore until Angie got bored.

There would always be another asshole ready to jump into a relationship with her sister.

She knew that because the same thing had happened to her. Big jumped into her life and turned into an asshole.

She was done with bikers.

She gathered her belongings from the car and returned to the house. Not in the mood to get to know her sister's new boyfriend, she shut herself in the room and fell into bed.

The mattress wasn't much better than the lumpy one in the motel.

Loud laughter permeated the bedroom wall, followed by thumping. She hugged her middle. The feeling of loneliness was nothing new to her.

Even when she had Big, she spent most of her nights alone.

No one ever noticed her. Not even Angie took time out of her night to find out why she needed to stay here.

Just like yesterday when she pulled the pistol on Big, forcing him to leave her alone. He'd laughed at her threat. At that moment, she regretted shooting at the ground. She should've shot his balls off.

She rolled over and buried her face in the pillow. Even that biker who'd shown up and told her to leave Missoula failed to see her.

She could've shot him, too. If she'd wanted to.

Her eyes burned behind her lids.

She needed more time. Time to make more money and bounce back from the situation she found herself in, again.

Serving pie and coffee all day long at Mama Jean's Pie Shoppe made it possible to live independently if she found a cheap enough place to rent.

But even her job was lonely.

The customers weren't there to see her. They wanted to eat. Apple pie was more important than her.

She needed to hang around other people instead of those at the Cusclan clubhouse.

She needed to find a man who put her first in his life. Sex was overrated. She wanted a meaningful relationship. Someone better than any man out there who would hold her and fight to be with her.

Her throat tightened. She sniffed, refusing to cry.

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