Page 9 of Rebel Revenge

“We don’t keep money here.”

“Do you keep soup here?” I took a ten-dollar bill from my pocket and put it on the countertop.

She edged toward me slowly with clear distrust.

I couldn’t even blame her. She was barely as tall as Rebel, which made me practically twice her size. If I’d intended any ill harm, there would have been nothing she could do to stop me, unless she had a gun stashed back there between packets of rice and sweet and sour sauce.

She snatched the bill, crumpling it in her fingers, then pointed at the big silver vats on the stove. “What flavor?”

“Chicken, please, ma’am.”

She nodded and pulled down a clear plastic container and matching lid. With one eye on me the entire time, she ladled in the soup, fitted the lid, and then pushed it across to me.

“Thanks. Keep the change.”

She sighed with audible relief as I left the store, the door swinging shut behind me.

Her reaction wasn’t unusual, but it didn’t mean I liked it. It just made me appreciate Rebel all the more. I hated the idea of her lying in bed unwell for an entire week while I was away. I should have checked in on her.

Not your girl to do that.

“Fuck that,” I muttered, slipping into the convenience store and picking up her favorite chocolate bar, the same one I always had in the little bar fridge in my room at the clubhouse. I hated nuts in chocolate, but I liked watching her eat them because she made all sorts of pleasurable noises at the taste, and it reminded me of the sounds she made when she let me put my tongue on her clit.

I stowed my purchases in the saddlebag on my bike and drove through the unusually quiet Saint View streets to her apartment.

I’d only been here once before, but I’d memorized her building and her apartment number. The place was a shit heap, in desperate need of repairs, but I took the stairs two at a time, not bothered by my boots thumping even though it was late. There were plenty of other noises from behind closed doors. Arguments. TVs. A dog barking. It kind of reminded me of the clubhouse. You learned to sleep through noise when you lived in a place like this.

I stopped outside her door and stared at the eviction notice pinned to it. I didn’t like the look of that. I didn’t have much in the way of cash to give her, but I could have a ‘friendly chat’ with her landlord. Though I already knew she’d be pissed if I did. Miss Fucking Independent would probably rather sleep on the streets than ask me for help.

But that was an argument for another time, when she was well. I sucked in a breath, suddenly nervous. I’d never just turned up at her place out of the blue. Before I could lose my nerve, I rapped my knuckles across the door. “Rebel. It’s me.” Then I realized she might not even recognize my voice. “Fang…I mean.”

I squeezed my eyes shut and slumped against her doorframe. Fucking hell. I couldn’t even get a proper sentence out around this woman. And I wasn’t even facing her.

The mattress squeaked from inside the room, so I knew she was home. Maybe she was sleeping.

I sighed, putting the soup and chocolate down at my feet and pulling out my phone.

Fang

Soup at your door. Feel better. x

I walked away, down a flight of stairs, then paused when the lock on her door disengaged. It opened a crack, just wide enough for her hand to poke out and grope around the floor until she snagged on the plastic bag with her hot soup and probably melting chocolate bar.

She dragged it inside and closed the door without showing her face, the locks clicking again.

I waited for a text to come in, but nothing did.

Eventually, I wrote one of my own. If I was doing her a favor, the least she could do was give me one in return. It was a simple request, but an important one. Because I really didn’t want to have to kill one of my brothers for having her arms wrapped around them when it could have been me.

Fang

We’ll be there for the wedding. But, Rebel? You will be on the back of my bike. Only mine.

3

REBEL

At the heavy footsteps outside and the knock on my door, the panic attack stole over me so quickly I didn’t even see it coming. One minute I was fine, the next there was no air in my lungs, leaving them raw and aching while I simultaneously gasped and tried to shove my fist in my mouth so I wouldn’t make a noise. I buried under the blankets, trembling but frozen in place, silently begging them to go away.

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