Page 113 of Rebel Obsession

I grabbed my phone from my pocket and frantically called Rebel, but it went straight to her voicemail. Understandable, since she was working.

Without thinking about the fact we hadn’t spoken since I’d fucked up everything with Vaughn and kissed him, I stabbed at my phone until it was dialing his. “Pick up, pick up, pick up, dickhead. You’ve been calling me nonstop for days and now you don’t want to talk to me?”

The call rang out, and I swore at the top of my lungs.

I wasn’t waiting around for him to call me back. I grabbed his keys from the hook and sprinted to his bike, throwing a leg over it. His helmet hung from the handlebars, and I shoved it on, snapping the chin clip together. I slammed my foot down on the kickstart, and the bike roared to life beneath me.

Any other day I would have admired the bike’s power beneath me or the way it handled the corners I took too fast. But the Providence streets whizzed by, turning into Saint View streets, and I saw none of them. They were all a blur mixed with panic.

Whoever had left that note had been at our home. They knew where we lived. What if she’d been there alone? Would a note be all that we had left of her?

I fucking hated I hadn’t taken Fang seriously when he’d told us there was a danger.

But was this even Caleb?

At this point, I wasn’t sure who I suspected of murdering Miranda and Bart. Caleb hadn’t even crossed my mind. They’d been killed just days after he’d attacked Rebel. She’d done nothing to retaliate at that point. She was just some woman he’d fucked over and forgotten about.

Until she’d sworn revenge on him.

He was capable of it, but it just didn’t make sense.

I pulled up at Psychos and stormed across the parking lot, bypassing the line of people waiting to get in.

Scythe or Vincent, I had no idea which, stepped in front of me. “Join the line.”

“I need to see Rebel.”

He narrowed his eyebrows, his face stony. “Join the line.”

I sighed in exasperation. Story of my life. I was easily forgettable in Vaughn’s shadow. Not as smart. Not as attractive. I was taller, but that didn’t seem to help much. “I’m Kian? We’ve met before, remember?”

A grin spread across the man’s face so quickly it gave me whiplash. He reached out and shoved me in the shoulder. “Yeah, I know. I’m just messing with you. Go on. She’d twist my nuts if I left you out here in the cold.” He grabbed my arm, his smile dropping into something deadly serious. “There’ll be men in there looking at her. Touching her, even. While that’s not on, unless she says it is, we don’t do the jealous boyfriend thing here. Do you understand? Unless she tells you she needs your help, you sit and keep your hands to yourself… Can you do that?”

“I’m not her boyfriend.”

I was already jealous though, thinking about the fact there might be men in that room looking at her or even touching her.

It was one thing for that to be Vaughn, or even Fang. But some random stranger?

Fuck no.

He sniggered, a wide grin spreading across his face again. “Oh, you’re still in the denial phase, huh? Enjoy the blue balls. It’s way more fun when you get over yourself. Trust me.”

He opened the door for me and pointed to my left, where another doorway led to a very different side of Psychos.

Ceiling-high golden cages were spread around the room, a variety of performers inside. Each one was in various stages of undress, some still mostly clothed, and dancing provocatively for anyone who wanted to watch. Others going at it like rabbits, zero inhibitions, full-on sex without a care in the world who watched.

Or touched through the bars.

“We aren’t in Kansas anymore, Toto,” I muttered, dragging my gaze away to search the room for Rebel.

When they’d said Psychos was an underground sex club, I thought they’d meant it was some cheap, seedy place.

This was nothing like that. It was extravagant. Elegant. Sexy.

But none of it came close to Rebel sauntering through the crowd in a tiny bra and panty set that showed everything through the see-through material.

I stopped dead and groaned. “Fuck me.”

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