Striker: A Dark Bully Romance (Redwood Rebels Book 1)

by Rachel Leigh

  “Revenge is the raging fire that consumes the arsonist.” —Max Lucando

  Copyright © 2020 Rachel Leigh

  All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without permission from the copyright owner, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law.

  For permissions contact: rachelleighauthor@gmail.com

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Striker is a Dark Bully Romance that contains explicit sexual content, graphic language, and situations that some readers may find uncomfortable.

  www.rachelleighauthor.com

  ISBN: 9798693995956

  Cover design by Ya’ll. That Graphic.

  Cover Model: Andy Murray

  Photographer: Michelle Lancaster

  Editing: Rebecca, Fairest Reviews Editing Service

  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Epilogue

  Sneak Peek

  Also by Rachel Leigh

  Message from the Author

  About the Author

  Prologue

  RebelSin: Damn, now that’s sexy. Let’s see another.

  NotYourAngel: I’ll make you a deal. I’ll send you a pic for every question you answer. Grand Finale, you get a private video.

  RebelSin: Deal.

  NotYourAngel: Why do you hate the world so much?

  RebelSin: What’s to love?

  NotYourAngel: That’s not an answer and doesn’t warrant a boob shot.

  RebelSin: Ass?

  NotYourAngel: Nope!

  RebelSin: Because the world hates me.

  NotYourAngel: (Image sent)

  Are you afraid of the dark?

  RebelSin: Holy shit! To answer your question, I welcome the dark.

  NotYourAngel: (Image sent)

  Do you feel like you live in the dark?

  RebelSin: You know I’m hard as a fucking rock right now and I might need to take a break to relieve myself. Unless you plan on coming over and doing it for me.

  NotYourAngel: I don’t meet up with clients.

  RebelSin: Oh. Is that what I am?

  NotYourAngel: Have you not paid me massive amounts of money in exchange for my body shots?

  RebelSin: Money means nothing to me. To answer your last question, I don’t live in the dark. The darkness lives in me.

  NotYourAngel: (Image sent)

  What is your biggest regret?

  RebelSin: Drooling over here. Biggest regret…talking to you.

  NotYourAngel: Jerk!

  RebelSin: You dig out my demons. I don’t like to feel. Unless it’s your mouth around my cock.

  NotYourAngel: In your dreams.

  RebelSin: You are in my dreams. And in my nightmares. You’re a fucking storm, angel girl.

  NotYourAngel: Oh yeah? Why is that?

  RebelSin: Because you’re a fucking tease and you know it.

  NotYourAngel: I’m not a tease! You asked for this.

  RebelSin: I don’t like other men seeing your body.

  NotYourAngel: That’s not your choice. It’s mine.

  RebelSin: My turn to ask a question.

  NotYourAngel: Do I get to see a pic of you?

  RebelSin: Not a chance. You’ll see my face when I’m ready to show it to you.

  NotYourAngel: Ask away.

  RebelSin: Have you always been a dirty little tease?

  NotYourAngel: Ok. I can see where this is going. You always get so mean when things get serious. I’m logging off.

  RebelSin: That’s because you’re my favorite dirty thought and my favorite little tease. But one day, you’ll please instead of tease. Wait and see, angel girl.

  1

  They didn’t see me.

  They couldn't have.

  It’s dark, and the bass is carrying through the floors from the party downstairs so loudly that I can’t even hear my own shoes moving. There is no way they can hear my footsteps as I walk steadily down the hall, taking care not to trip over my own feet.

  Glancing behind me, I make sure no one is following. Little good it does, considering it’s pitch black. The drumming of my heart in my chest is all I can focus on. Can they hear it? I swear it’s louder than the music, but then again, it’s inside my own chest.

  They can’t hear it.

  A small glimmer of light from the staircase gives way to my shadow as I round the corner. Pressing my back to the wall out of fear, I swallow hard, but slowly, as the lump in my throat threatens to stay lodged in my esophagus. Whoever that idiot was who told me to use the bathroom up here is just that, an idiot.

  With my eyes on the staircase across the hall, I give it a few seconds to be sure no one is going to jump out and grab me before I hurry down them. Just as I’m about to make my escape, a door slams shut and voices carry down the hall. Coming closer and closer. I can’t hear what they are saying. My focus is solely on not making a single sound. I hold my breath as they draw near and pinch my eyes shut.

  “We’ll find whoever was out here, and when we do, we’ll take care of them.” That voice. It’s so familiar. It can’t be. Talon Porter? Was he one of them? That can only mean one thing, the others are Lars, Zed, and Tommy. I don’t even have to see them to know it was them. Where there is one, there are four.

  What did they mean, they will take care of them? They know someone was out here but they don’t know who it was—not yet, anyway.

  Once I hear them go down the stairs, I pull my phone out of my pocket and hit the flashlight. Shining it up and down the hall, my stomach drops.

  Cameras.

  Of course there are cameras at both ends of the hallway. Talon has enough money to buy the entire state, why wouldn’t he invest in a security system?

  It’s only a matter of time until I’m found out. They will know that I overheard them as soon as they watch the footage. What they plan to do with that knowledge sends chills down my spine. Unless I get to them first. I have the upper hand right now. Their secret belongs to me now, which means they belong to me.

  Frozen in place, I give it a minute to be sure they rejoined the party downstairs. As my breathing steadies, I think of my next move.

  How can I get to the security footage before they do? Better yet, how do I find it?

  Think, Marni.

  Creeping around the corner and back out in the narrow, dark hallway, I switch my flashlight on again and shine it directly at the camera. It looks similar to the ones we have. Our system goes straight to a cloud storage that can only be viewed and deleted by those who have the password.

  Fuck.

  Dropping my phone to the side, I shut off the flashlight.

  Why couldn’t there just be a room with monitors and one of those ancient cassette tape things like they have in old movies? Why does technology have to b
e so damned advanced? I’m not exactly complaining; I buy every new iPhone as soon as they are released, but damn, I’d give up all of my possessions just to get out of this mess.

  That’s it. His phone. I have to get Talon’s phone. I’m sure he has the app, and the password is likely saved. I just need to get into it and delete the footage. It can’t be that hard. I don’t know much about these guys, but I do know what they like—destruction, drinking, and sex.

  There is no way in hell these boys will have any part in my life. I’m not exactly a Susie Do-gooder, but I’m sure as hell not on their playing level. They play hard, and they always win. If they think someone knows their secret, they will not stop until that person is silenced. And it’s just my luck, that person is me.

  Slow and steady steps lead me down the thirty step staircase. My fingers trail lightly on the wooden rail attached to the wall. Talon’s house is this huge, luxurious bachelor pad. Zed and Lars live here with him. Apparently, they’ve all dropped out of high school. I’ve heard Talon is finishing up online, but I highly doubt that's working out well for him. Tommy still goes to school, and still lives with his parents. At least one of them has life goals.

  Glass wrapped walls are on the east side of the house with an automatic door that opens to the fluorescent glow of the underground pool. He bought this house six months ago after returning from a mind-cleansing retreat. We all know it was rehab, but he doesn’t make it public knowledge. He and his sister were given millions when their parents disappeared off the face of the earth. Rumor has it, his dad killed someone and his mom was a royal bitch to the kids. No wonder the kid lacks a moral compass.

  I don’t know Talon well; I’m not sure anyone does. He keeps his circle small, but everyone looks at him like he’s some sort of god. He has the world in the palm of his hands with money, power, and zero guidance, since his parents are gone and his sister is only a few years older than us.

  The music grows closer, and the bass is so loud I can’t even make out the words to the heavy metal song. There are people everywhere, body to body. Some dancing, some trying to hold a conversation over the noise, and most of them holding a drink in their hands. All except for me. A couple of girls walk by and I snatch a cup out of the hands of a petite girl with blonde pigtails. “Thanks.” I smirk.

  When she stands there looking at me with sheer confusion, I make a move, slamming my foot to the ground and acting like I’m going in for the kill. Shrieking, she backs away with her eyes glued to me. Her friends look like they might piss themselves.

  Talon Porter may be a god around here, but I’m not too far beneath him on that totem pole. I have a pull in this town. Namely because of my dad and his influence on the community. Also, my older brother, Axel. He was a legend at Redwood High. Not for sports or honors, but for his “don’t fuck with me or my family” mantra. He instilled a level of respect and fear in the residents of this town when it comes to our family.

  Talon might have money and connections, but we have them, too. We, Thorns do not cower to threats, and if it comes down to it, we will fight back.

  That doesn’t matter, though—not yet. I still have time to put a stop to this.

  Now that I have a drink in hand and I’m blending in, I spot Talon sitting on a chair with two chicks on his lap, and it makes my stomach turn.

  Kill or be killed.

  I just need to dump this drink on him and take his phone while I attempt to brush him off with an over dramatic apology. It can’t be that hard.

  Stumbling over like I’m three sheets to the wind, I use my four years of drama class to my advantage. “Raging party, Talon.” Holding my cup up in cheers, he completely ignores me.

  Lars comes up behind him, bends over with a look of agitation, and whispers something in his ear that sends a wash of anger over Talon’s face. Lars comes back up, looks me dead in the eye, sending shivers down my spine, and then turns away.

  The girls on Talon’s lap turn inward, one slobbering all over his neck, while the other trails her index finger down his cheek. Both are wearing skintight dresses that leave nothing to the imagination. “Let’s take this party upstairs.” She leans closer, her face pressed against his as she cups his dick in her hand, giving it a firm squeeze.

  My eyes move from her hand, up to his face, and I realize he’s watching me. “Can I help you?” His voice is stern, a thin layer of pink shading the whites of his eyes that tells me he’s high or has had too much to drink. It’s hard to tell with him.

  I bring the cup up to my chest and look around to see if there is anyone else nearby that he’s addressing right now. “Me?”

  Standing up, he lets the girls fall to the ground. They brush themselves off and watch his steps as he stalks toward me. His black combat boots hit the ground like a jack hammer with each step. His fingers rake through his disheveled dark brown hair, stray strands falling back into place as his hand drops to his side.

  Talon holds this mystery about him that makes him sexy as hell. He’s at least six foot three, and although he might not have the body of an athlete, it’s obvious that he works out. His plain white t-shirt fits tightly around his biceps and the ridges of his abs are apparent through the thin fabric.

  Being the end of summer, his skin is sun-kissed. And here I thought he was a vampire who only came out at night.

  Reaching into his pocket, he pulls out a rectangular metal Zippo with his initials engraved on it. TJP. Talon Joseph Porter. I shouldn’t know that, but I do. I know a lot about Talon—now, even more than I care to.

  “If it isn’t Axel Thorn’s little sister,” he says as he stops directly in front of me. The smell of weed rolling off of him, invading my space.

  I hug the cup tighter to my chest. “Also known as Marni.” God, I am so tired of living in Axel’s shadow. “My name is Marni.”

  “I know who you are. But your last name is more important than your first. You share blood with a man I hate; therefore, I wanna know what the hell you’re doing in my house.”

  “Seriously,” I laugh, “Talon, we’ve gone to school together our entire lives. I’ve been to at least a dozen parties here. What’s the problem?” I throw my hands out, sloshing the contents of the cup around. Instinctively, I almost take a sip, before I remember that someone else was drinking this, and I have no idea whose dick she may have sucked tonight.

  Cocking an eyebrow, he begins flicking the Zippo. Once a flame stills, he brings it closely to my face. The heat warms the side of my cheek, and I tilt my head away, out of fear of how far he may go with this game. “Did he send you here?”

  “Send me here?” I question. I have no idea what he’s talking about.

  Frozen in place, my mind says dump the cup, but my body doesn’t listen.

  His eyes linger over the flame as he begins moving his hand back and forth in front of my face. Reaching into the pocket of his black jeans, he pulls out a joint. My eyes skim down his arm, noticing one small black tattoo on his forearm. Bringing the joint up, he sticks it into the flame. “You’re in no position to play dumb with me.” Using his forefinger and thumb, he draws in a long drag of the joint. His mouth forming the shape of an O as he blows it out into my face.

  “What the hell?” I swing my hand back and forth in front of my face, sweeping away the smoke.

  The flame diminishes as he leans forward, his lips almost touching my ear and his breath warm on my neck as the smoke still lingers in the small space between us. “Seems you’ve got something that belongs to me, Axel’s little sister.”

  To my left, I notice Lars and Zed. Tommy stands to my right. All three of them take steps simultaneously as they close in on me.

  Talon wraps his hand around my elbow. His calloused fingers feel like sandpaper on my smooth, bare skin. When I attempt to jerk away, he strengthens his grip. Gritting through my clenched teeth, I hiss, “It will do you well to remember that I am, in fact, Axel’s little sister.”

  “From here on out, you have only one title that matt
ers,” his mouth ghosts my ear as his fingertips dig deep into my arm, “ours.”

  2

  After Talon and his gang tried to claim me while puffing smoke in my face, I slithered from his reach and walked out of the house backwards, slowly, with my eyes on him to be sure he didn’t make a move. The house was full, too many witnesses. It’s what he planned to do to me in the darkness that had my knees knocking as I ran for my car. Fear doesn’t come easily, but they created enough in me with just one word that sent me running for the hills.

  Each creak of the floorboards, and every slam of the door by our housekeeper Ruby, sends my heart into my throat. It’s only a matter of a time before they seek me out. I have something that I shouldn’t. A secret that could destroy their entire lives.

  Pacing the bedroom, I graze my teeth over my freshly painted nails. I should just go for it. Lay it all out there, admit that I know, and use it to my advantage. After all, I’m the one who knows what they did. They should fear me, not vice versa.

  I drop my ass down onto my bed and grab my cell phone off the bedside table. My thumb hovers over Talon’s name as I contemplate whether or not I should call him and tell him we need to talk. Leaning back, I notice something beneath the comforter on my bed. Digging my hand underneath it, I reach until my fingers find something hard and rectangular shaped, with a clasp on the front—maybe a box? I slide my hand out from under the comforter and look down at the wooden box. Feathered corner joints, a handcrafted engraving of a snake-like infinity symbol on the top, and a small clasp on the front give it a vintage and charming appeal. Dad must have picked this up for me on one of his trips. Smiling at the gesture, I click the clasp and push the top open.