Page 37 of Rebels & Rejects

He wants to find the Reaper. Badly. Ever since he found Red in the Satan’s clubhouse, he hasn’t been able to think about anything except uncovering the Reaper's identity. He’s no longer happy settling for the long game approach we have planned out. Instead, he’s hellbent on doing whatever it takes to get her to talk—a plan I was all on board with, until right now. Now, I’m not sure what to think. Plus, if Red does actually know the Reaper, then we don’t want to go pissing him off. He hasn’t come for a single Reject yet, but without knowing the motives behind his kills, we’re in the dark as to why.

We’re not like the other gangs laying claim to Black Creek. We’re not in this for the money, or the power, or the territory. We don’t want to sell guns or distribute drugs, but no one outside of the Rejects knows that. If you were on the outside, looking in, I imagine we look like every other asshole vying for control. But at the heart of it all, we’re nothing like them. Our objective is more significant than that. Our fight is one of vengeance, fueled by long-buried pain and a longing for a life that should have been. Every single member of the Rejects feels that way. Whether that came about because of the Antonellis, like it did for Cain and me, or at the hands of some other asshole who thought they could do whatever the fuck they wanted at our expense, it doesn’t matter, because that need for justice, that hunger for revenge, it burns inside all of us, pushing us forward.

I ignore Cain’s question, asking one of my own. “Why do you think she’s lying?”

There’s always the hope that she genuinely didn’t see anything, and Cain has allowed his desire to find the guy and get him to help us take down the Antonellis, cloud his judgment.

He thinks about it for a moment before responding. “I can’t put my finger on it. Her story doesn’t quite add up, but it’s more than that. It was the look in her eye that night. It was as if none of it fazed her... the guns, the violence, the blood.”

I shrug my shoulders. “She probably grew up here. She’ll have seen her fair share of shit like that.”

He’s shaking his head, though. “Nah, it was more than that.” I can see the frustration on his face as he struggles to make sense of something. “I just can’t figure outwhat.”

We lapse into silence as I mull over what he’s said. I honestly don't know what to believe, but Cain is a good judge of character, so chances are she’s lying about something, but what?

“Maybe she’s protecting the Reaper’s real identity?” I muse.

“Yeah, that’s what I’m thinking, but why?... He could be threatening her to stay silent?”

I nod my head in agreement, having thought the same thing. “Or she knows him.”

My gaze meets Cain’s, and I can see it in his eyes. That’s exactly what he thinks—or at least hopes—is the case.

“If so, we need to find out from her who he is.”

“Are you sure we’re wise to pursue this?” I ask. “We can continue with what we’ve been doing.”

He gives me a wry look, and I can see in his eyes how badly he needs this. Even more than I do, and until I ran into Red, it was the only thing getting me out of bed in the morning.

“Fine,” I relent. “I’ll talk to her this week.”

I ignore the way my heart rate picks up at the thought of running into her again. Based on the way she looked at me after finding out who I am, not to mention her parting words for me to leave her alone, I’m pretty sure she’s not going to be all that excited to see me. But I have to say, the thought of getting to see her, of possibly even getting to know her better, has a smirk lifting one side of my lips.

***

Three days later, I’m sitting in a private booth at the back of Strip Tease, mesmerized as Red swirls around the pole on stage like a pro, swaying her hips seductively.

She’s dressed up as some sort of dominatrix, and it is doing all sorts of fucked up shit to my dick. I can’t seem to tear my eyes away from the large swell of her breasts, pushed up and accentuated by her leather bra, or the way her ass looks in the thong and suspenders she's wearing. The tattoo along her upper arm and shoulder only adds to the whole dominating vibe she’s got going.

Based on the hoots and hollers from the men gathered around the stage, throwing money her way and tucking dollar bills into her thong and bra when she’s within touching distance, I’m not the only one affected by her beauty. She just stands out from everyone else. From her unique shade of copper hair to her wide-set hips, she’s the complete opposite of every other woman working here.

When I first sat down and saw the attention she was drawing, I nearly flew out of my chair, intent on dragging her off that stage and away from the hungry eyes of the men surrounding her. Some primal voice at the back of my mind was whisperingmine, but of course, that’s so fucking far from the truth. She’s not mine, and despite my draw to her, I’m not even sure if I want her to be. I came back to Black Creek with a purpose in mind, one I’m not even close to achieving yet. I don’t have time to get distracted. Especially not by succulent curves and feisty eyes, plump, pink lips and soft, dirty moans.

I have to keep reminding myself why I’m here—to find out about the Reaper. Cain’s been going about it all wrong, treating her like the enemy and having one of the kids follow her around. But that’s Cain’s way. He’s always one to go on the offensive first. I’m hoping a gentler approach will help encourage her to help us. Obviously, I can’t divulge anything to her, but I’m hoping she’ll be open to at least talking to me.

When her time on the stage comes to an end and she walks off, the manager meets her at the bottom of the steps. I see the moment he tells her I’m waiting to talk to her. Her back stiffens, and she follows his gaze to where I’m sitting.

I keep my face impassive while her eyes burn into mine, her lips flattening in annoyance. Huh, maybe this is why Cain always takes the aggressive route. I get a kick out of knowing I’ve annoyed her. Sure, it would be better if she was happy to see me, like she was the other night at Toxic before she knew who I was, before I found out what she could mean to the Rejects. But, this is a close second.

She strides across the room toward me, every step emanating confidence and seduction. She screams sex, but not like cheap, motel sex. The kind of sex that’s like a drug, that gets you hooked and keeps you coming back for more. The kind of sex you’ll never get out of your system.

“Didn’t I tell you to leave me alone?”

I don’t know if it’s because we met before she knew who I was or if she’s just got ovaries of steel, but the fact she doesn’t cower before me the way most people do is even more of a turn-on than her delectable body.

She perches on the far end of the booth, deliberately keeping as much distance between us as possible. I don’t fucking like it. My fingers itch to reach out and touch her, to pull her in against me, and I have to dig them into the upholstery to stop myself from doing exactly that.

Meanwhile, she crosses her arms on the table and stares me down. Even though Strip Tease is officially under Reject control, she behaves as though we’re in her territory, like I’m the one who should be withering beneath her ire and not the other way around.

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