Page 21 of Rebel Revenge

He wiped blood from his chin and stared down at it smeared across the back of his hand. “Yeah, well, it did. See you around, Sis.”

He walked away, back toward the cops who were barely paying attention to the scuffle, clearly bigger things to deal with when there were two dead bodies inside.

Fang gazed down at me. “What the hell happened in there, Pix?”

I shook my head, letting the familiar nickname wash over me. It was one he normally only used in private, but clearly, he was rattled, too. “I don’t even know. My mom…I think she overdosed. She’s dead.”

Fang swore softly. “I’m taking you home.”

“The cops…”

“Fuck the cops. They want to talk to you; they can do it on your time.”

I nodded, clutching his T-shirt. He wrapped his arm around me, and I inhaled the familiar scent of him. It was the same cologne Vaughn wore, the one I’d fallen in love with because it reminded me of Fang.

He guided me toward his bike, and it was only then I noticed the other guys from the club. They sat on their Harleys in the parking lot, watching the commotion with interest.

War, the club prez and my bestie’s man, had a phone pressed to his ear, but when he spotted me, he moved it slightly away from his mouth, his gaze sharp with concern. “What the fuck happened in there? They wouldn’t let any of us in; we’ve been going crazy out here. They said people were dead. You’re okay?”

I wasn’t, but I wasn’t physically hurt either, which was what he meant, so I nodded.

“Bliss is on the phone. Do you want to talk to her?”

I shook my head. “Not now. I’m tired.”

I only realized how true that was after I’d said it. Exhaustion swamped me, even though the sun was still high so it couldn’t have been any later than early afternoon.

All I wanted to do was close my eyes and sleep until none of this was true.

“I’m taking her home, Prez.”

War ran a hand through his hair. “Yeah, do that. I’ll hang around here for a bit longer. Try to find out what the hell happened.”

I didn’t have it in me to argue. I stood numbly, letting the two men talk over the top of my head, a ringing in my ears starting up that didn’t quit until Fang swung his long leg over the seat of his bike and settled with his hands on the handlebars.

“Get on, Pix.”

“I’m wearing a dress.”

“Like I care.” His fingers circled around my wrist and dragged me in. With one yank of my skirt, he lifted it high enough for me to climb on behind him.

I probably flashed more of my panties than I wanted to in the moment, but I doubted anyone was watching me when there were far more interesting things going on.

I gripped the bar behind me, and Fang let out a grumble that resembled a pissed-off bear. He reached behind, hand sliding up my leg in the space left by the split in my dress. He kept his touch to the outside of my thigh, then up to my hip, fingertips pressing in, anchoring me in place.

“I’m riding like this with one arm unless I can feel your arms around me, Pix. I need to know you’re okay back there. Can’t know that if I can’t feel you. Put your arms around me.”

If it had been anyone else, I wouldn’t have been able to do it. But I knew this man. He would sooner die than hurt me.

So I sank down against him, pressed the side of my face into the back of his jacket, and wrapped my arms around his solid waist.

I inhaled the combined scent of leather, cologne, and gasoline, all of it swirling me in comforting waves. Then I closed my eyes and let the man drive me home.

* * *

Fang slowed the bike on a gravel road, and I finally opened my eyes. I’d kept myself awake long enough to lean into corners with him, but barely. I blinked at my surroundings. We were most definitely not outside my shitty apartment complex in the middle of Saint View.

Woods surrounded us, thick on all sides and easy to get lost in if you were stupid enough to go wandering. Every tree looked the same as the ones before, and there was only one clear road through them, the gravel drive we’d taken.

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