Page 29 of Rebels & Rejects

The outer door bounces off the frame as I slam it behind me and stomp down the alley to the main road. I run my hand through my hair, tugging at the short, black strands in frustration as I force out a long, slow exhale through my nose. My bicep flexes as I tense the muscles in it. I want to scream my rage to the heavens, let out all this pent-up anger in the ring. But more problematic is the voice in my head, urging me to go back and finish what I started. The tightness around my crotch isn’t helping the situation either.

Refusing to give in to whatever hold the red-headed witch has on me, I force my feet forward toward the Escalade I have parked at the side of the road just outside the club. The street is dark and vacant at this late hour, but I’m hardly paying any attention to my surroundings as I climb in behind the wheel and slam the door closed behind me.

My hands clench the steering wheel tightly as I take a second to try and clear my thoughts. I couldn’t believe my luck when I walked into Strip Tease and saw her on stage. It took a minute for me to recognize her without the wig and blood coating her body, but when she swung her hips and tilted her head back, exposing her face to the lights above her, I knew immediately that she was the girl from that night. Razor told me her name was Jessica... clearly a fake. Her paperwork at the club says Red, although that’s obviously not her real name either. What does she have to hide, that she can’t even give her real name to her employer?

Releasing a heavy sigh, I let my head fall back against the headrest as my mind involuntarily drifts back to the feel of her grinding against me, the brush of her tits against my chest. “Ugh,” I groan. That wasnothow I envisioned tonight going. I got her schedule from the manager, and I’ve made a point of turning up at the club every night she’s been working this week, letting it sink through her pretty little head that I own her. There’s absolutely nothing she can do or say to prevent me from showing up night after night. When I took over the Satan’s territory, all of the businesses within this five-block radius effectively became mine. They're under my rein, my control. If I decide they should shut their doors and close up shop, then they will do so, under threat of death should the owner disobey. Those same rules apply to Strip Tease. Of course, I have no intention of actually doing any of that. These are hard-working people just trying to make a living. Who am I to barge in and screw with their livelihoods?

Now, if they stand in my way against the Antonellis, like the red-headed vixen is, then that’s a different matter. And yet, my intimidation tactics don’t seem to be phasing her in the slightest. Every night, she’s thrown me hateful glares and scornful looks, the likes of which no one has dared aim in my direction since before Evie disappeared. I admit, even as a prepubescent, the other kids on our street were fearful of me. I’ve always been tall for my age, and I perfected anot to be messed withexpression at a young age. When I started lifting weights in my teens and added a hefty bulk of muscle to my lanky frame, it only added to the intimidating image. Throw in the tattoos covering nearly every inch of visible skin and the fact I’m the leader of a group of ruthless gangsters quickly taking control of the city, and well, it’s safe to say most people buckle beneath my demands. But nother.

Since the silent intimidation tactic didn’t seem to be working, I decided an up-close and personal approach was required, butholy fuck, did that backfire. Instead of forcing her to tell me what she knows about the Reaper, I only succeeded in exposing how much the girl gets under my skin. Although, it’s apparent that I affect her too. She put up a strong front, but there was no denying the way her body melted beneath my touch.

Loosening my right hand from around the steering wheel, I bring it to my lips, smelling her sweet scent as I suck a finger into my mouth. I can taste the residual essence of her as it dances across my tongue, only heightening my need.

No!She’s a liar, and she’s getting in the way of my agenda. She can taste like the world’s best cream pie, but I won’t allow her to interfere any longer.

I grit my teeth as I put the car into gear and head away from the club. My thoughts are a conflicting mix of anger and lust as I race across town at breakneck speed, needing to put as much distance as possible between the tempting seductress and myself.

Despite the twenty-minute drive to the new premises I acquired for the Rejects, I’m still reeling with anger, frustration, confusion, and worst of all, desire, as I stomp into the front lobby, where I find Marcus and a couple of other newer recruits putting on tactical gear, clearly on their way out.

“What’s going on?” I ask.

“There’s a new shipment coming in. We’re going to catch the Grim Bastards in the act of stealing it.” He tosses me a malicious grin as he checks his handgun, loading bullets in the chamber before securing it in his holster.

I perk up at that news. Killing some thieving fuckers is exactly what would brighten my mood. Meeting his grin with a wicked one of my own, I ask, “Where’s Oliver?”

“In the office. We’re all heading out in a few.”

With a jerk of my head in acknowledgement, I head past him toward the office, relieved to feel the last remnants of lust leaving my system as it’s replaced with a need for blood and violence.

“You’re going after the Grim Bastards?” I ask Oliver as I step into the office, finding him slipping his own gun into the holster at his waist before securing a knife to the strap on his other thigh. He’s dressed in full, stealth, tactical gear, just like the men out in the lobby.

“Yeah, I’ve had a couple of guys keep a lookout for the delivery, and they called an hour ago to say it was on its way to the drop-off point.” He turns to face me, giving me a quick once over. “I called you.”

I pull my phone out of my pocket, frowning when I notice the three missed calls.Damn,I was too caught up in playing games with the stripper. I didn’t even realize my phone had gone off. I would have been pissed if I’d missed the chance to go out on this job.

“I’m coming with,” I tell him, moving behind my desk to grab my own gun belt out of my drawer. I’m already dressed in dark clothing, which will suffice. As I affix it around my waist, I catch Oliver giving me a knowing smirk. He knew I’d be pissed if I’d missed out on this. We both live for the adrenaline rush that comes from staring death in the face, from destroying our enemies and living to fight another day. He might not take part in the fighting pit or the cage, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t revel in the bloodshed the same way I do. After all, we grew up on violence and chaos. It’s been a daily part of our lives for as long as we can remember. Brutality is in our blood; it’s at the very core of our essence, the very center of who we are. Without that deep-seated viciousness, pining for vindication, we’re nothing but lost souls without a purpose.

I throw on a leather jacket over my ensemble, and when I’m ready, I meet Oliver’s gaze, the two of us sharing an intense look filled with malice and excitement for the battle ahead.

Oh yeah, this is exactly what I needed tonight.

We meet the other three members of our team in the lobby and head out to the parking lot, where we all get into one of the Cadillacs. Since Oliver is the one with the game plan, he climbs in behind the wheel, and I take the seat beside him while Marcus, Rampage, and Tank climb into the back. The three of them joined my crew nearly a year ago. Rampage and Tank are two of the eighteen-year-olds who agreed to join me after I rescued them, and Marcus had been at the compound that night, pretending to be a guard. I nearly shot the fucker when he ran toward me across the asphalt, thinking he was trying to stop the kids from escaping. It was only when I spotted the young boy cradled in his arms, that I realized he was helping him. He worked tirelessly alongside me and my men, helping us rescue every single one of those kids that night, and he even trailed us back to Black Creek, ensuring we found safe homes for as many as we could.

After about a month of him hanging around, showing no signs of leaving, I pulled him in for a chat. I’d seen the dark shadows in his eyes, caught glimpses of the haunted look he wore sometimes. I know exactly what causes that. Only a loss like no other can hollow a man out, so he’s merely skin and bones; a shell existing for the sheer purpose of existing. It didn’t matter to me who it was he lost, I could sympathize with his pain regardless. Not wanting to pry, I never asked him about his past, but I did fill him in on my own. It’s safe to say, he was on board with my plans for vengeance by the time we were done.

The drive is silent as Oliver directs us toward the north part of town. I stare out the window, not really taking in the rundown buildings and various vagrants as we make our way through Grim territory. There’s a storage facility just beyond the city limits, effectively in no man’s land, where I rent a container. Every month, I get the guys from up north to drop off a crate’s worth, which I delegate among my men to sell.

There are supposed to be precisely one-hundred guns in each shipment, but for the last few months, there have only been eighty. Meaning someone’s helping themselves tomyguns before I set eyes on them. I’ve already looked into the guys up north and confirmed it’s not them who are trying to swindle me, which means someone is getting to the shipment before my men can get up here to collect it. There’s only one group of people that could be—the Grim Bastards.

For the most part, we leave each other be, but they’ve been making a lot of noise recently about their reduced gun supply, and I’m pretty sure this is their underhanded way of expressing their displeasure.

“Remember, we don’t know if the Bastards have been informed the shipment is here yet, so everyone be on alert,” Oliver states, slowing the car down so the security barrier can scan our license plate before lifting to grant us entry onto the property.

The place is dark and vacant as we drive past numbered units with roll-up shutters. Instead of going straight to my container, we park several rows over—out of sight of any lurkers—and quietly slip out of the Cadillac.

“Stay alert,” I state in a low whisper, ensuring my voice doesn’t travel as I repeat Oliver’s words. I scan our surroundings, listening carefully for any sounds that could indicate anyone else is here.

“Here, take these.” Oliver holds out his palm, containing five small Bluetooth earpieces, so we will be able to keep in contact if we have to split up. With a final look at my men, we head out, ready to kill some motherfucking thieves.

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