Page 9 of Rebel
“Fuck Jace, and fuck you,” she spat. “I wouldn’t be in any of this mess if Jace had just told me the truth a long time ago. I wouldn’t have come looking for him, worried that he was hurt, or worse. But he kept his secrets from me, and now, I have to go on the fucking run.” She wasn’t usually much of a curser, but for some reason, the three men standing in front of her made her want to swear like a sailor.
“Jace wanted me to get you out of town,” Bolt said. He could barely look at her, and she wasn’t sure if that was a good or bad thing.
“You want to run that by me again?” Rebel asked, her hands on her curvy hips as though she didn’t give a shit about Savage, Ryder, and Banshee all staring her down. “The purpose of your brother’s call earlier was to warn me that the Dead Rabbits made me. He told me to get both of us out of town, and Ryder here is a pilot. He’s going to take us to the new safehouse.”
“Yeah, I got all of that when you sent Banshee and Winter back to the office to break the news to me.” They had been through all of this three times now, and each time, Rebel seemed to get angrier and angrier. Bolt had stood back and let Banshee and Savage take the brunt of her bad attitude, but she seemed to have plenty of it to go around.
“You didn’t think that this was important enough to tell me about earlier—you know, when my brother called. I’m not sure why I’ve been kept in the dark about all of this. I should be a part of the plans, not hidden away in an office that smells like beef jerky and cigars.” Banshee barked out her laugh, and Savage shot her a look.
“Well, she’s not wrong,” Banshee said.
“You know what, I can’t do this anymore,” she hissed. She grabbed her purse and started out the front door of the bar. She had no idea where she was going or what she was going to do, but she would come up with something on the fly. That’s how she always did things, and now it would be no different.
Banshee called after her as she left the bar. There was no way that she was going to go back in there and listen to how things were going to play out in her life. She had dealt with that kind of thing her whole life. When her mother died, her life wasn’t her own and getting it back took time and a whole lot of effort. She wasn’t going to let the Bastards or the Harlots tell her what she should do. And she especially wasn’t going to let Bolt boss her around anymore. She needed to be the one calling the shots from here on out, or else she’d take her chances on her own, and Jace and his friends would have to get over it.
Rebel stood on the porch, looking over the parking lot to make sure that her unwanted stalker wasn’t around, and she actually let out her sigh of relief when she didn’t find anyone in the lot. She knew that sitting in the truck wasn’t her safest idea, but she just needed a few minutes to calm down and catch her breath. She tried the door handle and almost wanted to cheer when she found the truck unlocked. Rebel slid into the truck cab but left the door open as the night air was hot and muggy.
For a split second, she thought that she’d have her quiet reprieve to think through everything, but she was wrong. Bolt came storming across the parking lot, and she knew that her reprieve was just about up. Rebel sat back in the seat, closing her eyes to regroup before the angry biker crowded her space. The clubhouse was still loud in the distance, laughter and the clinkof bottles carrying through the thin walls. But out in the parking lot, it was quiet—just the low hum of crickets and the smell of motor oil from the bikes that lined the front of the bar.
Bolt leaned against the side of the truck, peeking in at her, trying for casual but not doing a good job of it. The moonlight traced the curve of his broad shoulders, and she couldn’t help but look him over. He shouldn’t have followed her out here. Hell, she promised herself that she wouldn’t cross the line with Bolt, but God, she wanted to. She knew that he was her brother’s best friend and partner, but right now, seeing the way that he stared her down—calm, knowing, just a little dangerous—had burned right through every bit of restraint she had left. All Rebel wanted to do was erase the entire fucking line from the sand and take what wasn’t supposed to be hers.
“You shouldn’t be out here alone,” he muttered, stepping even closer.
She arched a brow, a hint of a smirk tugging at her mouth. “Funny, coming from the man who followed me. I thought that you were in just as much danger as I am, Bolt,” she reminded.
His jaw tightened, and she wondered if he was going to say what was on his mind or not. She had all but spilled her guts to him about the secrets that she had kept from Jace. Maybe telling him the truth had only turned him off, but the way that he was looking at her told her the exact opposite was true. Having Bolt standing this close to her, the heat rolling off him was too much. Rebel wanted to ask him if he felt that same damn heat, but she was too much of a chicken.
“You know he’d kill me if he knew,” he said, voice low. “If Jace knew what I was thinking about doing with you—to you, he’d fucking kill me, Rebel.” Now they were finally getting somewhere.
His gaze didn’t waver. Rebel wasn’t one to ever back down from a dare, and what Bolt had just said to her felt very much like a dare. “Then don’t let him find out,” she whispered.
Her words seemed to ignite a fire in him. Bolt quickly closed the distance between the two of them and he pulled her from the truck into his arms. He had one hand braced on the truck and the other hovering near her, as though waiting for her to push him away. She wasn’t going to. Instead, Rebel tilted her chin up, as though daring him to make the next move. This game of cat and mouse that they were playing was turning her inside out with need. She hadn’t felt this way for any man in a damn long time.
Rebel didn’t have to wait long for Bolt to accept her dare. Their mouths collided, rough and hungry, their combined desires crashing all at once. Her fingers fisted in his cut, pulling him closer, while his body pressed flush against hers, every nerve in her screaming that this was wrong—yet it had never felt so right.
When they finally broke apart, breathless, his forehead rested against hers. “This is dangerous,” he rasped.
Rebel smiled up at him, “So are you.” It was at that moment that she realized that he had already stolen a little piece of her heart, even though she wasn’t willingly giving it away.
The parking lot was quiet except for the rasp of their breathing. His forehead rested against hers, her hands trembling with the effort it took to keep herself in check.
She should’ve walked away. She should’ve remembered who he was. But his fingers were still tangled in her shirt, tugging her closer, and when he whispered, “Stop thinking so much,” every last bit of her control shattered.
His mouth claimed hers again, rougher this time, as if all the restraints had finally broken loose. She gasped against him, and he swallowed the sound, pressing her back against the truck, hisbody pinning hers. His hands slid to her waist, up her sides, memorizing the feel of her like he’d never get another chance.
“God, you don’t know what you’re doing to me,” he groaned against her lips.
“I do,” she whispered back, eyes dark and daring. “And I want more of it.”
That was all it took. His mouth moved down her throat, licking and nipping her sensitive skin, while her hands roamed his shoulders, his chest, desperate to feel more. The world beyond the parking lot—the clubhouse noise, the risk of being caught by one of the guys or being found by the Dead Rabbits or her stalker—faded until there was only this. They were reckless, greedy, giving in to everything they’d been denying. Heat flared between them, urgent and undeniable, until there was no question of stopping.
“I need you,” Rebel whimpered against his lips. Bolt’s control seemed to snap. His hands slid beneath her shirt, palms hot against her skin, pulling a shiver from her as he explored every curve like he’d been starving for her. She arched into him, gasping as his mouth devoured hers again, rough and desperate, their teeth clashing before he softened, sucking her lower lip into his mouth as though he couldn’t get enough.
“Fuck, Rebel.” His voice was a rasp against her throat as he pressed her tighter against the truck, grinding the hard line of his body into hers. “I shouldn’t—” He started, and she could feel her heart sink at the thought of him turning her away now.
“Then don’t stop,” she cut in, daring him with her breathless plea. He growled low, a sound that made her knees weak, and hooked his hands under her thighs, lifting her effortlessly. She wrapped her legs around his waist, clutching at his shoulders as he pinned her to the truck door, the metal cool against her back, his heat burning into her front.
Her fingers tangled in his hair, tugging, guiding his mouth down her neck. He left a trail of bites and kisses, claiming her in the open night where anyone could catch them. The thought of being seen, of crossing every forbidden line, only made the fire roar hotter inside her.
