SANGRE: Night Rebels Motorcycle Club (Night Rebels MC Romance Book 6)

by Chiah Wilder

  Silence descended on the room as an air of sadness fell over the members. Paco clasped Steel’s shoulder, pulling him in a bear hug while the brothers lifted their fists in the air.

  “We’re all with you, bro,” Sangre said.

  “There’s no way we’re gonna let that shit get through,” Shotgun added.

  Each brother voiced his support until Steel stepped forward and raised his fist. “Thanks, brothers. I knew I could count on you. Each of us is strong, but together we’re a fucking atomic bomb.”

  The members rose to their feet, their fists pumping in the air as they chanted, “Night Rebels forever, forever Night Rebels,” over and over. After several minutes, they sat down, and Diablo came up to the front.

  “Chains is monitoring the activities of these assholes.” He looked at Chains. “We’re in awe of your computer genius, bro.” The members clapped and whistled. “Brick, Knuckles, Patriot, and me are feeling out some informants in Durango and Silverado. We’ve gotta crush them before they make a move, but right now it looks like they’re not doing much but yapping.”

  “Satan’s assholes haven’t forgotten what we did to them. I don’t think they’re gonna want to butt heads with us any time soon,” Muerto said.

  “I agree, but we still gotta watch them. It’s when we get cocky and too lax that shit happens.” Diablo crossed his arms.

  “Keep us informed,” Paco said to Chains and Diablo. “I guess that covers it for now. We need to take the threat of this street gang seriously. I’d like to annihilate them and the damn Pistons.”

  “You may get your chance,” Sangre said, standing up. “There’s no way we’re gonna let any shit happen, so I think we need to allocate some funds to building up our arsenal. We took a hit when helping the Fallen Slayers out a while back.”

  Steel nodded. “All those in favor of spending some of the club’s money for weapons, say Aye.”

  “Aye!”

  “Looks like you got the okay. Give Liam a call and arrange a date and time we can meet up with him in the next week.” Steel brought the gavel down on the wood block. “Church is over. Go forth and booze, fuck, and get high.”

  The men guffawed as they pushed back their chairs and left the room. In the main area, Sangre went to the bar and picked up a bottle of beer and a shot of Jack. He walked over to an empty table and sat down.

  “We got some major shit that’s threatening to hit the fan,” Army said as he joined him at the table.

  “Tell me about it.” Sangre threw back his shot.

  “What’s going on with the strip mall?” Jigger asked, pulling out a chair with his boot.

  “Still getting the numbers together. I should have something concrete in the next couple of weeks. Chains is helping me gather the data.”

  “I don’t know how the hell he can do all that computer shit.” Army motioned to the club girls who were sitting on the couch next to the wall.

  Angel pointed at herself and mouthed “Me?” Army nodded and held up three fingers. Kelly and Lucy jumped up and followed Angel to the table.

  “You gonna play with all three of them?” Jigger asked as he watched the women approach.

  “Maybe later, but right now, I want some damn food,” Army said.

  “What’s going on?” Angel said softly, wrapping her arms around Army’s neck from behind.

  “Hey, Sangre.” Kelly smiled and stood next to him.

  “Hey. I think Army wants you ladies to drum up some food for us since tonight’s Lena’s night off.”

  “Is that all you can think about when you look at us?” Lucy folded her arms and pushed out her lips in a mock pout.

  Army smacked her ass. “I see you as dessert, sweetie.” The girls giggled and walked toward the kitchen. “How’s your guarding going? Does your sexy friend still have her virtue?”

  Jigger guffawed. “That’s a good one.” He gave Army a high five.

  “Yup. Still intact.” Asshole.

  “Yo,” Eagle greeted as he dragged a chair next to Sangre. “Seems like we had a problem last night with Isla’s account.”

  Sangre’s hand stopped in midair. “What problem?” He brought the beer bottle back down to the table.

  “Some fuck up with Jon and Ron. She ripped me a new asshole. She was madder than hell she couldn’t get a hold of you, so she took that out on me too. The chick’s got a mouth on her.”

  He pulled out his phone and saw only one call from her during church. “I gotta get a new phone. Mine’s been acting up big time.” He stood up.

  “What the fuck? The girls are bringing our food. You can call your friend after you eat. It’s not like she’s going anywhere.” Army leaned back in his chair and jutted out his jaw.

  “The friend shit is getting old, dude. And I don’t need you to tell me what the hell to do. Get your own fuckin’ life and stay outta mine.” He stalked out of the room and bumped into Kelly coming out of the kitchen. “Sorry,” he said as he looked at the sandwich and fries on the plate she carried. “Is that for me?”

  “I made it just for you.” She pressed her soft tits against him.

  He took the plate. “Thanks. Eagle’s at the table and he may want one too.”

  “That’s it? Don’t I even get a kiss for all my hard work?”

  He kissed the top of her head then walked down the hall to the back porch. A wicker chair with a cushion covered in a bright tropical flower pattern stood near the window, and he sat on its arm. The club girls had been bothering the brothers for months about redecorating the screened-in porch, and they finally relented. He’d given them a few thousand dollars to redo the room with the proviso that they had to get a kickass grill for club barbecues. The women went all out, and the result was a bunch of furniture that looked like it belonged in a home décor magazine rather than in a biker clubhouse. He missed the comfortable, worn out couch and the overstuffed chairs they used to have. The only thing the girls got right was the stainless steel mega grill. Now, that one definitely kicked ass.

  Sangre took a big bite out of his sandwich and tapped in Isla’s number.

  “It’s about fuckin’ time I heard from you!”

  “Eagle wasn’t kidding when he said you were pissed.” He chuckled.

  “I don’t think anything about what happened last night is funny, nor do I think it’s funny that you ignored me all day. I’m beyond pissed!”

  “First off, I didn’t ignore you. My phone’s shit and I have to get a new one. Second of all, what the hell happened last night?”

  “Eagle didn’t tell you? Unbelievable.”

  “He said there was a mix up on who was on duty.”

  “No one was on duty. My car broke down and I had to walk to Main Street in the dark. I knew someone was following me. I could hear his footsteps. I could sense him. I’m not making it up. Someone was there, and if the bus hadn’t come when it did, who knows what would’ve happened. And then, Jon pops up out of nowhere, insisting he was there all along. He was lying. I’m telling you that no one was on duty last night.”

  A sick feeling punched his gut. “Jon isn’t supposed to be watching you at all. I told Eagle not to use him for your contract. Ron should’ve been there. I make it a point to know who’s on. I’ll call Ron and Jon and see what happened. What wrong with your car?”

  “I don’t know. It died on my last night. It’s at the shop right now.”

  “How’d you get home?”

  “I bumped into my next door neighbors, and they took me home.”

  “Why the hell didn’t you call me when you noticed no one was watching you? I can’t believe you didn’t call me when you had car trouble.”

  “My phone was dead, and I forgot to take the charger out of my other purse. It just made me feel vulnerable. I’ve started feeling better the last few weeks, but then last night happened, and it let me know that he’s still out there, watching me, waiting to pounce.”

  “Damn. I let you down. You shouldn’t have gone through what you did l
ast night. I’m sorry. I’ll get to the bottom of it. I’m coming over.”

  “Okay,” she said softly.

  He smiled; she never could stay mad at him. “You can let me hear the new songs you’ve been working on.”

  “I’d like that.”

  “I’ll be there soon.” Sangre tucked the phone in the inside pocket of his cut and finished his sandwich and fries. He went back inside and came over to Eagle. “I had Ron on the schedule to watch Isla. What the hell happened?”

  “After I talked with her, I called Ron. He said that Jon had called him and told him he was on the schedule and there was a mix-up. Ron balked at first, but he said the dude was practically crying about not having enough hours, and Ron’s had over ninety this pay period, so he said okay to Jon. I was surprised when Isla said no one was there until a few hours later. I tried to call Jon to sort it out, but he’s not answering his phone.”

  “I know where he lives. I’ll swing by and try and make sense of what happened last night. And make it clear to Ron that unless it comes from us, he does the post he’s given. I’ll let him slide this one time, but next time, he’s out on his ass.”

  As he turned to leave, Shotgun came up to him. “Are you gonna meet me at the pool hall?”

  “I forgot about it, bro. Something came up, so we’ll have to do it another time.”

  “Meeting your friend?” Army sniggered and the others joined him.

  Ignoring them, he walked out of the club into the brilliant summer sunlight. After donning sunglasses, he straddled his Harley. Nearby, the faint buzzing of bees filled his ears while he breathed in the sweet scent of hay. It was a hot, still day. The trees stood mute in the summer air, the sun beat upon his back relentlessly, and wavy lines hovered over the road in front of him.

  He rode over to Jon’s apartment and banged on the door, but there was no answer. He checked out the parking lot and the streets around the complex, but he didn’t see his car. After several calls to Jon went to his voicemail, Sangre climbed the metal steps once again to Jon’s apartment and pounded several times on the doors and windows before he left.

  By the time he arrived at Isla’s two-story, brick house, beads of sweat poured down his neck, and the bandana he wore across his forehead was soaked. He took it off and threw it in a plastic bag then pulled out a towel from one of the saddlebags and mopped his face. He saw a colorful stand between Isla’s house and the one next to it; two young girls sat behind the small counter. A man stood in front, his head tilted back and a cup to his lips. Sangre took off his sunglasses and saw the man wore a deputy sheriff’s uniform. He ran the towel through his thick hair, tossed it in the plastic bag, and walked over to the stand.

  “Would you like some lemonade, mister? It’s homemade,” a girl with brown pigtails said.

  The deputy turned around and grimaced, and Sangre stiffened. What the hell is Jeffers doing in front of Isla’s house? “Did you make it yourself?” He looked at the large pitcher filled with ice and lemon slices. His throat was parched, and a big glass of freshly squeezed lemonade sounded damn good.

  “Our neighbor did. It’s her own recipe,” the other girl said, pointing to Isla’s house.

  “Then I’ll take the largest glass you got.” As the pigtailed girl poured, Sangre turned toward Jeffers who’d been staring at him since he’d arrived. “I thought you people go to donut houses.”

  The deputy’s face grew taut. “What’re you doing over here?”

  “Same as you. Having a glass of lemonade on a hot as hell day.” He looked over his shoulder and saw Mark approaching him.

  “Here you go. It’ll be one dollar for a large,” the girl said.

  He handed the money to her then drank it down all at once. “That was damn good, girls.”

  “Isla made it for us this morning. She gave the recipe to our mom.”

  “Isla?” Jeffers said. He glanced at Sangre.

  He’s such a bullshitter. There’s no way he doesn’t know Isla lives here. He didn’t just randomly come into this neighborhood for some damn lemonade.

  “You know that, officer. You kept telling us her name was Jordan. Don’t you remember?” one of the girls asked.

  “No, I didn’t. You must’ve misunderstood me. I said I knew a girl in high school who used to bring lemonade to some of the school functions that tasted just like the one you have. I said her name was Jordan.”

  The girl’s pigtails flew back and forth as she shook her head. “That isn’t what you told us. You said—”

  “You girls have a crowd here,” a blonde-haired woman in shorts and an oversized T-shirt said as she came over.

  “We’re doing real good, Mommy.” The girl in pigtails showed her mother a big jar that had coins and dollar bills. The other girl beside her nodded vigorously.

  She smiled and extended her hand to Deputy Jeffers. “I’m Faith—the entrepreneurs’ mother.”

  “Nick Jeffers, ma’am.”

  She ran her eyes over Sangre, her gaze stopping on the tattoos coloring his arms. A look of concern spread across her face as she crossed her arms and stood closer to her daughters.

  Mark came over and the girls giggled. “Didya want another one, mister?” one of them asked. Smiling, he nodded. “This is his fifth one,” the girl whispered loudly to her mother.

  “Carly, that’s impolite,” her mother said, giving a small smile to the security guard.

  “No worries,” he said as he took the cup from Carly. He dropped four quarters into the jar. “It’s real hot today.”

  “Sangre!” Isla yelled from the porch.

  He looked over and smiled as she stood on the threshold, holding the screen door open. Her shoulders in her lavender blouse turned slightly while the sun caught her hair and spun through it, threading it with golden honey and making the blue sheen sparkle like stars in the midnight sky. Suddenly, he couldn’t move—he was mesmerized by her. Then his whole body shuddered as he sucked a big breath into his lungs.

  “How are the girls doing?” she asked.

  “Great. Everyone loves your lemonade,” Faith said.

  He locked eyes with Isla and everyone drifted to the background. In the silence surrounding them, he could hear the hum of voices, the whirr of a lawn mower, and the call of a magpie somewhere behind him.

  “You taking over the watch?” Mark’s gruff voice broke through the spell Isla had cast over him.

  Tearing his gaze away, he nodded. “Yeah. You can relieve Kevin over at the train depot. He’s pulled a twelve-hour shift, so I’m sure he’ll be happy to see you.” Mark nodded then headed to his car.

  Sangre threw his plastic cup in a small trashcan next to the stand and headed up the sidewalk to Isla’s house. She’d stepped inside and when he entered, the scent of coconut and pineapple wafted around him. He heard some rustling in the living room. “It smells like the tropics or something,” he said as he walked in. Sitting on the built-in shelves, the flames of brightly-colored candles danced.

  “When I light these candles, it makes me feel like I’m in the Caribbean, lying on a white sandy beach, looking at the pristine blue water, and drinking a sweet, fancy drink,” she said from the kitchen.

  He glanced at the wet bar in the corner of the room. It had a large glass filled with small paper umbrellas, another glass brimming with maraschino cherries, and a platter of pineapple, lemon, orange, and lime slices. “Looks like you’ve taken the steps to having that fancy drink.”

  She laughed, and it sounded like chimes from a collection of small bells. “I have. I bought some shooters—white and dark rum, cherry brandy, and gin. I’ll be there in a sec.”

  He sank down on the couch and glanced around the room. It was bright with the sunlight streaming in through the sheer curtains on the picture window. White, built-in shelves surrounded a sleek chrome fireplace. Books filled up the majority of the shelves, the rest had various music-inspired knickknacks, and the burning candles.

  Isla walked in carrying a silver tray t
hat had a couple of short and tall glasses on it along with an ice bucket. Throwing him a small, sly smile, she walked over to the wet bar, her hips swaying as he drank her in. She had the kind of ass made to wear a thong … or better yet, nothing at all. And then she bent over, her short skirt taut around her delectable butt.

  “Whiskey, right?” she asked in a low, throaty voice.

  “Yeah,” he growled, growing tighter in his jeans, his eyes never leaving her backside. The things I can do to that tempting ass.

  She stood up and pivoted slowly, glancing at him through half-lidded eyes. The swell of her breasts peeked out from her low-cut top and when she raised her arm up, running her hand through her hair, her top crept up, revealing a glimpse of color riding up the side of her toned body. He inhaled sharply, his gaze rolling over her narrow waist and breasts. Against the thin fabric of her top, her nipples pebbled as if waiting for his hands … his mouth. Fuck. He clasped his hands together to stop himself from grabbing her and tossing her on the couch. What the hell am I thinking? She’s my friend. I can’t blow this just ’cause I’m hornier than shit.

  “Here you go,” she said, handing him a glass and shooter of Jack. Her dark, sensual scent wrapped around him, making his dick jerk against his zipper. He groaned inwardly and took the glass and plastic bottle.

  She sashayed back to the bar and poured some liquids in a glass as his gaze bored into her. Turning around, she held up the tall drink full of orange-y liquid, ice cubes, and a garnishment of pineapples, limes, and strawberries. A multi-colored paper umbrella floated next to the side of the glass. “Mai Tai. Paradise in a glass.” She winked at him, and he thought he’d lose it right then and there; she was so damn cute and sexy.

  Isla joined him on the couch and pushed a small bowl of bright red cherries toward him. “I know these are like total chemicals, but I love them. You want one?”