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

by Rachel Leigh

  “Just because you can’t see them doesn’t mean they aren’t there.”

  Gripping both sides of her head in my hand, I press my lips to hers. Effortlessly, passionately, and totally mind-numbing.

  I’m beginning to welcome that feeling that trickles through me time and time again when she’s near. The backside of her hand sweeps up and down my neck over the scratches she left behind. “Show me your scars and I’ll show you mine,” I mutter into her tantalizing mouth. She seduces me without even realizing she’s doing it.

  Methadone has nothing on this girl. She’s my own personal drug, an addiction I have no intentions of detoxing.

  A knock on the driver’s window startles both of us. Marni climbs off of me, and I roll down the window. “It’s showtime,” Tommy says with wide eyes.

  Looking over at Marni, I search for her consent. Anything that tells me this is what she wants, even if she doesn’t. No one wants this. No one but me.

  She fakes a smile. “I’m fine. Let’s do it.”

  Reaching over, I fluff her hair out for her, pick a speck of fuzz off of her black shirt, and grab the lipstick from the center console that she brought. I hand it to her and she takes the top off, smearing the red wax across her lips and smacking them together.

  Ignoring that fact that I’m primping the girl I’ve recently started to tolerate, which says a lot because I don’t tolerate many, I give her a once-over. A crop top that has her tits popping out of the v of her neckline. A pair of tight skinny jeans and black ankle boots that add an extra couple inches to her height. “

  You’re so fucking sexy.” I lean across the center console and kiss her ruby red lips. Swiping my finger beneath her bottom lip, I wipe the excess then do the same to mine.

  “There’s time for that shit later. Let’s go,” Tommy barks from the door.

  “Take this.” I hand Marni my phone with the app open. “When you get to the bench just sit there and wait. He’ll message you an address. Screenshot it and send it to Tommy’s phone. When I give you the ok, walk casually over to Tommy’s car.” I point to the opposite end of the parking lot where Lars is walking toward us. “The keys will be inside. Get in and drive it out front of the bowling alley and Lars will be waiting there for you. He’ll drive you to the hotel. I’ll have my eyes on you the entire time. I promise.”

  “And I won’t see you until it’s done?”

  “It’s best if you aren’t there. You don’t need that shit on your conscience.”

  A smile tugs her mouth upward. “I trust you.”

  I don’t deserve those words. Not by a long shot. As much as I want her trust, she really shouldn’t give it to me.

  Watching as she walks away, I feel a sense of relief that this is coming to an end.

  “She’s gonna be fine,” Tommy reassures me, as he leans against the window.

  “Yeah.” I nod. “I appreciate you coming with me. But I meant what I said, you don’t have to be there. I can do this alone. I should do this alone.”

  “No. You shouldn’t.” He taps the tattoo on my forearm. “I’ve got your back.”

  22

  Wind gusts, causing particles of sand to pelt the bare skin of my arms. My eyes stay focused on the bench as I hug myself tightly. Nausea creeps into my stomach, and I begin to feel lightheaded. I attribute that to the extra blood flow to my heart as my beats kick into overdrive.

  There are so many eyes on me right now that I’m not sure how I’ll ever be able to sit down and pretend everything is normal. It’s not just Talon, Tommy, and Lars—it’s Talon’s dad. I don’t see him, but I can feel him watching me with motive and intent. I’m not sure what he has planned, and I don’t wanna know. But just the idea of what he could potentially do to me if this wasn’t a set-up sends a wave of panic through my entire body. Drawing in deep breaths, I remind myself that this is a set-up and I’m not alone. The guys are here and they won’t let anything happen to me.

  I sit down on the cold metal bench and my hands tremble as I hold out the phone and wait for his message. I set it on my lap and tuck my hands beneath my legs to try and stop them from shaking, then I look around. Tommy’s car is within eye sight, but Lars is long gone from it. At least I have the safety net of the guys watching. Talon would never let anything happen to me. In that respect, I do trust him.

  When the phone vibrates on my lap, I jump back so forcefully that it falls to the ground. Bending down to pick it up, I tap the app to open it and read the message as I lean back against the bench.

  SugarDaddy11: You’re even more beautiful in person.

  Ew. Gross.

  SugarDaddy11: Look up. I want to see your eyes.

  Holy shit. How close is this man?

  I pick my head up and look around. Then direct my attention back to the phone.

  SugarDaddy11: Are you ready to suck on my big cock before I fuck you in the ass?

  My stomach turns. I draw in a deep breath, and suddenly, I’m not cold. I’m sweating so badly that my feet feel like they’re suffocating in these boots.

  Play along, Marni.

  SugarDaddy11: Two-thousand dollars should cover that and I’ll even suck your pussy in return.

  NotYourAngel: If you’ve got the money, I’ll do whatever you want, baby.

  SugarDaddy11: That’s my girl.

  NotYourAngel: Obviously we can’t do that here. Tell me where to go. I can’t wait to finally touch you.

  There’s a pause between messages that has me scoping out the park again.

  SugarDaddy11: See the black Suburban with the tinted windows by the restrooms? That’s me. Why don’t you just walk on over here and I’ll lay the seats down and fuck you from behind.

  My eyes shoot to the restrooms. Sure enough, there he is. He’s supposed to give me an address. This wasn’t the plan.

  Fuck. What do I do?

  I turn around to look at the bowling alley parking lot, making sure Talon’s truck is still there, but it’s too far away and there’s traffic on the road that separates us.

  Swallowing hard, I take matters into my own hands.

  NotYourAngel: Do I look like a cheap fuck? I want a bed and a shower to clean up after. Give me an address that will provide those things or the deal’s off.

  Another brief pause and then it finally comes through.

  SugarDaddy11: Hilts Landing Hotel. Take the elevator to the eighth floor. Room 811. I’ll be waiting for you.

  Bingo.

  NotYourAngel: Can’t wait.

  Gagging, I screenshot the address and send it to Tommy’s phone. Seconds later, he responds.

  Tommy: Alright, we’re heading out. Don't worry, this is almost over.

  Must be Talon I’m talking to. Standing up, I keep my eyes on the Suburban. He still hasn’t moved. Before I even realize it, I’m practically running to the car. Slowing my steps once I’m closer, I look over and see that his brake lights are on.

  Shit.

  With an uncontrollable shake to my hands, I rip open the door, glancing behind me the entire time. Once I’m in, I slam it shut, start the engine and kick it into reverse. The Suburban inches closer and closer, so I toss the phone in the passenger seat, shift the car in drive and peel out of the parking lot. I don’t even know where the hell I’m going. My entire body is trembling, and my thoughts are a scrambled mess. Traffic is chaotic with cars coming from both directions, but when I look in the rearview mirror and see his face in the reflection, I pull out. Cutting off a minivan that begins laying on their horn.

  White knuckling the steering wheel, I keep heading straight. My eyes migrate back and forth from the road in front of me to the mirror, and I’m pretty sure I lost him, which finally allows me to take a calming breath. I grab the phone and the entire screen is filled with text messages from Tommy’s phone. I need to turn around for Lars, but I’m scared he’ll follow. Instead, I keep heading straight.

  Turning left down a side road, I turn into the back of a gas station parking lot. Twisting my head
every which way, I don’t see him. I grab the phone and my finger hovers over Lars’ name. As I sit here—alone—with no eyes on me, it hits me that I have Talon’s phone. Only days ago, I went to hell and back trying to find out what was on this thing. And now I have it—unlocked. I could just trust that I know all I need to know. But as Talon mentioned, there are many aspects of trust, and in this aspect, he hasn’t earned it yet.

  Starting with text messages. Nothing, just Tommy. Next, I go to his call log.

  Fuck. Nothing.

  Contacts. There’s about a hundred of them and I wouldn’t even know where to start.

  Facebook? Nah.

  Instagram? He doesn’t have one.

  Damnit.

  I almost give up, until I realize that the WatchMeNow app is what started this all. I open it up and, of course, it's logged in as me. But—RebelSin has his log-in information saved. I switch profiles and tap into his search history. Just NotYourAngel and one other. It’s a name I recognize, one of my clients: iPlayDirty.

  Clicking on the private chat button, the screen fills with exchanged messages between Talon and this guy. Only it’s not just any guy.

  It’s Josh.

  Chills slither down my spine.

  I scroll to the very top and sink into the driver seat comfortably as my eyes skim from the phone to the parking lot, just to be sure I’m still alone. The start of the conversation is just a real name exchange, nothing too incriminating.

  October 26.

  RebelSin: I don’t want you talking to her anymore. You’re done.

  iPlayDirty: I think we should let her make that decision.

  RebelSin: I made it for you. Now delete your account or there will be hell to pay.

  iPlayDirty: Make me.

  RebelSin: Seriously? What are you ten? Leave her the hell alone, you fucking psycho.

  iPlayDirty: I bet I could pay her thousands to come over here and lick my dick right now. Money talks, Porter.

  RebelSin: My fist talk, too. And you’ll be having a long conversation with it if you go near her house again.

  iPlayDirty: Now who’s the stalker. You wouldn’t know that I was at her house if you weren’t snooping around yourself.

  Holy shit.

  All this time these two were fighting over me on this app and I didn’t even know who the hell they were. How did I miss this? How was I so naive?

  RebelSin: Tommy’s house is a three-minute walk to hers and you parked your car in front of his house at one o’clock in the morning, dumbass. When it was sitting there empty for over an hour, I knew exactly where you were.

  iPlayDirty: Yeah, she was making a video for me. Good times.

  RebelSin: Lying son of a bitch. She was talking to me. I walked down the road talking to her in the private chat.

  iPlayDirty: Did it ever cross your mind that she had two chat windows open? Now who’s the dumbass?

  RebelSin: You’re as good as dead if I catch you out there again. Hear me? Dead.

  The phone drops into my lap and my hand claps over my mouth. That’s why Josh is dead? Talon killed him over me? No, that’s not right. It can’t be.

  It was two days later that I was at Talon’s house and overheard the guys talking. Technically, I didn’t overhear them because it was a setup, but this conversation could put Talon in prison for murder. Without even hesitating, I delete it. I have no idea why he hasn’t done this already.

  Just as I swipe out of the app, a thud on the driver’s window sends the phone flying into the back seat.

  “Fuck!” I shout, as I roll the window down. “You scared the hell out of me, Lars. Where did you even come from?”

  He stuffs his hands in his pockets and his back steels. “Let me in. It’s fucking cold.” I hit the unlock button, and he walks around to the passenger side and gets in.

  “How’d you even know where I was?” I ask him, as he closes the door.

  “Tracker. We all share locations, and you have Talon’s phone. I’ve been calling, but you must have been preoccupied. I’ve been following behind you in an Uber.”

  “Oh,” I look around for Talon’s phone, but it must have flown into the back seat. “Yeah, Talon’s dad scared the shit out of me so I pulled over to call you, but I got sidetracked.”

  “All good. I know the way. Let’s get the hell outta here.” I shift the car into drive and make a sharp U-turn to get out of the parking lot. “Take a left here.”

  Glancing over at Lars when he goes quiet, my heart drops into my stomach, and I gasp. “What are you doing?”

  “I’m sorry, Marni. I don’t wanna do this. But he gave me no choice,” Lars says, as he holds the gun low in his lap, pointing it right at me.

  My entire body tenses up, and my palms begin to sweat as I grip the steering wheel. “Who?” I choke out. The long pause of silence between us is deafening. My heart hammers so violently that I fear it will explode, or I’ll pass out before it does. “Who?” I repeat again.

  He looks over at me. Sheer displeasure written all over his face. “Zed.”

  23

  I toss the license plate that I’ve had sitting on my lap the entire ride in the back seat. No plate, no tracking.

  We made it to the hotel with time to spare. My fingers tap continuously on the steering wheel while we wait for him to pull in. Tommy’s been trying to check in with Marni to make sure she made it to the hotel ok, but she has yet to reply. “Where the fuck is Lars? And why isn’t she answering my damn phone?” My palms smack forcibly against the steering wheel.

  “You don’t think your dad—”

  “Don’t say it.” I twist my head wryly. “Don’t even go there.” She’s a small-town girl driving in a big city. She probably took a wrong turn and had to reroute.

  Tommy’s hand slaps at my shoulder. I catch the bob of his head in the direction of the entrance, and my eyes shoot over. “There he is.” He’s really here, and this is really happening. I’ve waited my entire life for this moment. This plan has to go accordingly, so I don’t even have a minute to mentally prepare. “Stay put until I wave you over,” I tell Tommy, as I pull the black hood up over my head and slide on my black leather gloves.

  Tommy pulls up his black mask, showing only his eyes. “You sure? I can come.”

  “I need to do this part alone.” I need this moment to be just between me and him. His death is only part of this process. I want to kill him slowly with my words. Force him to feel some sort of regret for the way he treated us.

  My feet hit the black pavement, and I keep my sights on his vehicle. The windows are tinted, so I can’t see his face, but I know he’s in there. When his driver's side door opens, and his legs creep out, I pick up my pace and make it just in time to slam it back shut. Only it doesn’t close. It catches his shins and squeals come from the other side of the door.

  “Talon?” I hear him say, as I press firmly on the door with his legs floating off the ground. “You’re gonna break my damn legs!” he shouts.

  I retract and give him some leg room. “Get them back in the fucking vehicle now or I’ll shatter every bone in your body.” My adrenaline is pumping so vigorously that I feel unstoppable, like I could do just about anything to this man and fail to feel even an ounce of remorse.

  Once his legs are back in, I close the door all the way. “Crack the window,” I demand. He rolls it down, leaving about two inches of open space from the top. “Surprised to see me?”

  “My leg, Talon. I think it’s broken. I think I need to go to the hospital.” He cries out like a fucking pussy.

  I hold my composure and keep my tone casual. “Don’t worry, in just a minute, you won’t feel a damn thing.” I lean closer to the window and his eyes hover over the top through the open space. They’re still just as empty as they were the last time I saw him. Soulless and harrowing. “Do you remember that time I broke my arm? I was eleven years old. Fell out of the tree house and laid there crying while Blakely ran inside for help. You stumbled out the door about twent
y minutes later—drunk off your ass. You walked over to me, lingered over my body, then you kicked me in the side and told me to toughen up.” Fire radiates through me and my chin begins to tremble out of anger.

  “Did you track me down and come all the way here just to revisit the past?”

  My jaw locks. “You’re a fucking monster. You beat the shit out of me and Mom. And while I'm not her biggest fan, she didn’t deserve a goddamn second of it. You verbally beat Blakely down and you turned our house into a living hell. You killed a woman and you’re still roaming free and trying to shack up with teenage girls.” My words keep spewing out with no self-control. “And let me tell you, it’s taking everything in me not to chop off your dirty dick and shove it up your own ass.”

  Taut brows and a pleading look lurk in his expression. With menacing eyes, I stare him down. There is so much I want to say, but he’s not worth the breath. I had every intention of drilling my demons into him before he took his last breath. But now, now I can see it would be a waste of time.

  I glance over to Tommy and give him a look of approval. Seconds later, he’s grabbing the gas can from the bed of the truck. Snapping my right glove at my wrist, I quip, “Roll it down.”

  “Get lost, son.” The window begins to slide up, but my hand grabs the handle and wrenches the door open. My entire body is numb as my hands wrap around his neck and squeeze with as much force as my body will allow—which is everything I’ve got. “Toughen up,” I grit through my locked jaw. The tips of my fingers dig into his skin while my thumbs press against his Adam’s apple. “I’m not your fucking son. Your life was so damn boring that you thought you’d take on a family to terrorize. Congratulations, you succeeded. You did this to yourself, always remember that.”

  I’m not even sure when he stopped squirming and fighting to free himself from my clutches. It was likely the moment right before his eyes bugged out and the gurgles stopped. I don’t even know if the bastard is actually dead and I don’t care—he will be.

  I give his limp body a shove and when his eyes remain open and I don’t see any movement in his chest, I’m convinced he is, in fact, dead. Nothing can begin to explain what I feel in this moment.