Page 23 of Wrecked

And that just wasn’t the case. There was no trail of bodies, no warrants for Rebel’s arrest. In fact, after leaving Erebus, Rebel had basically been staying low-key.

The only episode was that of his mother and her boyfriend.

If, and that was a big if, Rebel was out there killing people, then Crow would bet money that the guy was taking out bad people.

He didn’t know for a fact, but he trusted his gut and right now, his gut was telling him that Rebel was good.

Crow shifted inside the SUV and shoved away his distraction and once again zeroed in on the house down the block. When another car pulled up, a sketchy looking guy got out and hurried to the door. It was a constant in and out as they picked up their drugs.

But Crow wasn’t here for drugs or any of the users coming and going.

Word on the streets was that Crime Boss Jimmy Lincoln had picked up a new gun for hire a few weeks ago.

The informant Crow had found told him that the new hire looked way too skinny for the job, but after only a few hours, the new guy had gained Jimmy’s trust.

Crow figured it had to be Rebel.

If it wasn’t? Then he would go back to searching on the dark web. If nothing panned out, then he would be out of options. And if he ran out of options, he was going to need to call in the team to help him.

No, he nixed that idea. That was the last fucking thing he would do.

He would not be defeated by a teenager, damn it.

Sure, Rebel was somewhat skilled from the training forced upon him by Solomon and Tanis, but Rebel was still young.

Up against a trained soldier, Rebel wouldn’t stand a chance.

Crow had gone lightly on the man during their altercations, knowing that one wrong move could have killed him.

Yeah…okay…you’re a trained soldier…that was why Rebel got the drop on you in the hotel and in the flood control, Crow silently scoffed.

The only reason Rebelhadgotten the drop on him was because the guy had used sex. Both times! Well, that wasn’t technically true…maybe in the hotel Rebel had used it, but in the tunnel, it had all been his own dick doing the thinking.

It had only taken seconds for Rebel to get him thinking with his smaller head.

And there were reasons for that.

Crow had lied.

It hadn’t been true when he said Rebel wasn’t his type. Of course, that didn’t matter though.

Rebel was off-limits.

Period.

No excuses whatsoever. So, his cock needed to settle the fuck down.

Crow grimaced and shot back the rest of the coffee in his cup and then picked up the second cup he’d purchased at the drive-thru. There didn’t seem to be enough coffee to shake off the memories of that slender body against his on the bed and in the tunnel.

Fuck, he needed to get laid.

When the traffic coming and going died down, Crow slid out of his seat, quietly shut the door, and melted into the night. It took him only a few minutes to gain access to the backyard and from there to the back door.

A kitchen lay beyond the door with two men and a few women sitting around it. Lines of cocaine or crystal meth covered a broken mirror and rolled up dollar bills lay on the table. Halfempty bottles of beer and an unfinished pint of whiskey littered the table’s surface.

This wasn’t Jimmy Lincoln’s address, but Crow figured one of the people inside would know it. Pulling his mask down to cover his face, he slid his nine-millimeter semi-automatic pistol from the back of his pants and kicked in the back door.

The splintering of wood sent one of the men toppling backward from his chair.

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