Scorned (A Ruthless Rebels MC #2)

by Ryan Michele

  I kiss Drea’s temple. “Then, by all means. I need to get out of here.”

  The salesman smiles knowingly. Yeah, he and I are speaking the same language.

  “Harder!” Drea screams, clutching on to the headboard, her ass in the air as I pound into her from the back. My grip tightens, and I feel her muscles tremble from my touch as her pussy clenches me.

  I pull her away from the headboard and pull us back, just a touch, her head laying on the mattress. It’s my turn to grip the headboard and use the momentum and all my strength to give my woman exactly what she needs. Exactly what she wants. The bed hits the wall repeatedly, no doubt putting a hole in DJ’s drywall. I’ll get it patched.

  As Drea screams into the pillow, her pussy clamps so tight around my cock that it sucks the come from my body. Damn black widow.

  I fall to the bed, wrapping my body around her. “Fuckin’ love you, Drea. Loved you then, love you now.”

  She squeezes my arm around her. “Love you too, Austin.”

  Chapter 13

  I may be in over my head … or I may be right where I need to be after all.

  “I think you should take me back home, Austin.” I’ve told him several times about the bad feeling I had about going with him to the clubhouse for a party. I haven’t been to the clubhouse since the beginning when he scooped me up off the sidewalk and Bones came to check me out.

  This is his whole life here that I wasn’t a part of.

  I struggle with it.

  I know it’s my fault I pushed him away and we missed so much. He has this life, this family with the Rebels. Part of me feels like I’m intruding.

  Then there’s the whole trick thing. Kenderly explained to me how the tricks work. Why they are around. I remember seeing that scantily clad dressed woman before. I can’t be here knowing Shamus has probably had sex with every available woman here. I don’t want to associate this place with that. I don’t want to because it means the world to Austin, and I love his brothers. I just need to figure out how to get over it.

  It’s not like we were together, and I have no right to be upset with it. But I can’t help that jealous feeling that punches me in the gut.

  “It’s family, Kitten.”

  “I know it’s yours, Austin.” I suck in a deep breath. “I’m in.”

  “I had the bed, sheets, and blankets all taken out of my room, Kitten.”

  My head snaps to his with what I know is pure shock on my face. “You did what?”

  “Had that shit taken out. It was my old life. You’re my new.”

  My eyes water, and my vision becomes unclear. Not from my condition but from the joy this man keeps giving me day in and day out. He’s a damn good man, and he’s mine.

  “Thank you,” I whisper, reaching over and wrapping my arms around his sucking in his warmth. Damn, I love him.

  We pull into the lit up clubhouse, and my grip tightens around his waist as we lean into the turn. His bike is freedom. I loved it before, I love it even more now.

  He parks, we get off and enter into the chaos that is the Rebels.

  Laughing echoes throughout the night sky along with the crackling of the fire from a large pit with several people around it. The clubhouse is illuminated by several large lights, and with the concrete walls, it looks kind of scary in a way.

  “Shamus!” someone calls out, and Austin’s grip tightens on me pulling me into the fold. Most of these guys helped with moving us into DJ and Kenderly’s place, but many of the women I’ve never met. I can’t help but feel a little self-conscious, considering I’m seriously new to this whole biker life.

  Yes, it definitely is a way of life that I need to learn.

  Lurch pulls me into his arms like he’s known me all my life and kisses the top of my head. “So happy to have you here. Want you to meet my ol’ lady.” He releases me just as a beautiful woman with long, dark hair braided down her back steps up. “This is Gloria.”

  Her smile is warm and inviting as she sticks out her hand for me. I take it immediately and feel her warmth and kindness instantaneously.

  “I’m so happy Shamus found him a good woman. I’ve heard so many wonderful things about you.” Her other hand claps mine on top, and she shakes it gently.

  “Thanks. Austin has told me about you as well. It’s great to meet you.” Austin has spoken so highly of both Lurch and Gloria. They’ve been the parents he never had. “Thank you for taking care of him.” My words are soft, but her eyes tear up so I know she heard me.

  She pulls me into her arms unexpectedly, but I reciprocate immediately. “Taking care of Shamus has been one of the biggest joys of my life. Him and DJ both. They’re my boys.” Her grip gets a little tighter. “Don’t you dare hurt him again.”

  The warning is clear. I’m not sure if I’m scared from the tone of her voice, or if I love her more for caring so much for Austin. Her love for him is clear which makes me love her, too. That is until she kills me for something I do wrong. I chuckle inside.

  “Understood.”

  She gives me another squeeze and releases me with a wink.

  “Mind if I take her?” she asks Austin who wraps his arm around my shoulder and kisses my temple.

  “As long as you bring her back.”

  I smile up at him as Gloria leads me through the clubhouse, introducing me to a couple of people I haven’t met yet. What I notice is the women who were here before—barely dressed in anything—aren’t here. No one dressed in bare scraps of fabric are here. And these women have on black leather that matches the vests their men wear, with Property of patches on the front. I can’t help but wonder if one day I’ll be expected to wear one.

  Could I be Property of Shamus? God, the name, the reason he got it, I can’t even call him that much less wear it. Can I?

  “Those wheels are turning,” Kenderly greets me, wrapping her arm around my shoulders. “Hey, Gloria,” she greets the woman in front of me. “Andrea, have you met Daisy yet? She’s Thumper’s ol’ lady.”

  Gloria reaches out and touches Kenderly’s growing belly.

  “I haven’t met anyone but Gloria,” I reply, feeling my anxiety rise at all the new people and being so out of my element.

  I notice the leather vest on Kenderly with her Property of DJ patch. The shiny black material isn’t wrinkled or well worn like Gloria’s. No, it looks brand new.

  “Looking sharp, Kenderly,” Gloria approves of her vest.

  “DJ has been so focused on getting this back and making sure all the right patches were in place. He’s already talking about the rides we can take after the baby so I can fill it up.” Kenderly smiles proudly.

  I raise my eyebrow in question.

  “It’s a cut,” Gloria explains, “like the men’s, but this is ours. If we’re at a rally or event, it lets everyone know we’re taken so they need not bother us. We do rides, and they always have patches you earn for completing it. The boys don’t have that kinda room on their cuts, so a lot of times they fill their ol’ ladies cuts with them. It’s a sign of respect. The more patches a woman can wear shows she’s at her man’s back whenever possible. It’s a symbol of every ride we take together.”

  Pride shows in Kenderly’s face, and I can’t help but wish I could earn some patches of my own to show Austin I’ve got his back like he’s had mine.

  “We’re organizing a poker run for Wells boy,” Gloria explains to Kenderly, and I automatically feel the tears building as I think of what this family has been enduring.

  “I just wrote an article for the Granville Journal Star about little Ross Wells and his battle against Adrenoleukodystrophy. The bone marrow transplants have prolonged his life, but the costs are mounting. ALD is a harsh genetic disease for this family’s little boy,” I pipe in, explaining what I know about the boy and the family.

  “It’s heartbreaking,” Kenderly adds while we all feel the weight to this family’s struggle.

  “They have found a promising trial but need to raise the funds to
travel to Bethesda and stay the duration. We’re hoping to cover those costs as well as provide some money for food and incidentals,” Gloria explains while getting out a vegetable tray.

  I almost laugh at the thought of beer and celery but quickly see Kenderly scoop a carrot into the dip and snack away. She’s completely comfortable here, and it’s easing my anxiety.

  “Can I ask a dumb question?” I say barely above a whisper.

  “No question is a dumb question,” Gloria retorts.

  I look around, embarrassed. “What’s a poker run?”

  Gloria smiles sweetly and reaches out to squeeze my hand. “A poker run is where each participant pays an entry fee. We’ve got a couple of guys with businesses that have offered up prizes so all the entry fees will go to the Wells family. We have seven checkpoints set up with food, beer, or a stop for gas lined up. At each stop they get a card, at the rally point everyone shows their ticket with their cards written by the point person at the stop, and they all play their hands. Whoever has the best hand wins a prize. We also have a prize for the person who rides the furthest to join us. We have a non-club member participation prize because we are opening this to the public.”

  “I can write something up in the paper, letting anyone with a bike know about the cause and the event.” I find myself automatically joining in for the Wells family.

  “Oh Andrea, we would love that.” Gloria reaches around and hugs me. “Bikers get a bad rap. They aren’t thugs looking to torment a city. We follow our own rules and live by them. We ain’t here to bother nobody.” She pulls back and looks me in the eye. “But mark my words, anyone messes with what’s ours, we ain’t calling the cops, we’re handling it Rebels way. That includes you, Andrea.”

  I gasp.

  “Shamus ain’t been the same since you were assaulted. There ain’t a single man or ol’ lady in this clubhouse tonight that is gonna give up until we find out who hurt you.”

  “Is acceptance that easy?” I ask before thinking about my words.

  “Shamus earned his place. He claimed you which means the club claims you. That simple. So don’t hurt our boy, Andrea.”

  “I won’t,” I say, honestly knowing I’m in too deep to hurt Austin. If anything, I’d be devastated beyond repair if something happens to him.

  And if I’m honest with myself, the more people I encounter with the Rebels, the more I find I like them all. I don’t know if this is something I want to lose. I do know I want to find out more about the club. The investigative reporter inside me clearly sees there’s more to them than loud bikes, club whores–or as they call them, tricks–and violence. It’s about family and having your brother’s back, taking him at his word. I’m glad Austin found this for himself.

  Dare I allow myself to think it, I’m glad he’s found this for us.

  Chapter 14

  None of it makes sense, and all of it infuriates me!

  The box is a bit smaller than normal, but the stow-n-go only allows a certain size and getting the AK’s to fit is becoming a pain in my ass. They can only be broken down so much, but it’s necessary that at least a dozen fit in the secret compartment because the size of this load is large.

  “Only a box more of this shit then we can do the regular packaging,” DJ calls out as he breaks down one of the guns.

  “We’re gonna have to see about expanding that compartment a bit so we don’t have to deal with this shit,” I growl.

  “Brother, calm your shit.” DJ places the gun in the padded box then looks up at me. “Know you’re pissed about your girl, but this shit,” he points down to the boxes, “is child’s play. Don’t take out your anger on stupid shit.”

  Setting the gun in the box, I remove the gloves from my hands then wipe them over my face. He’s right. Fucker. Days have gone by and we’ve still got nothing. I want to hope that it’s all over with and done, but it’s not. I know it. I feel it. I fucking hate it.

  “I don’t know what to do, brother.”

  DJ pulls off his gloves and comes to sit next to me on an empty crate. The man has been with me forever, knows me inside and out. We both thought we had forever with Kenderly and Drea until we didn’t. Now we could have it again, but I somehow have to figure out who is posing a threat to Drea before I can secure a future for us. It’s frustrating.

  “Wish I had answers.”

  “She doesn’t know,” I tell him, and his head snaps to mine. “Haven’t told her about the pictures at the house. Not a word about her being a target.”

  “Fuck.”

  I nod. “Yeah, fuck is right.”

  The door to the warehouse opens, our eyes shooting to the invader. Sure, we’re in a secure location, but the load we have has us standing, guns pointing at the door.

  Triple Threat puts his hands up in the air. “I come in peace,” he jokes, and we put our weapons down.

  “You’re fuckin’ lucky.” My moody disposition is just aching to shoot someone and make them pay for Drea. I’d never touch my brother like that, but I’m getting itchy, twitchy, and down right bitchy.

  “Yeah, and so are you.” Triple Threat walks up to us eyeing the almost full crates, then us. “Got somethin’,” he announces like I haven’t been waiting for-fucking-ever for any information.

  “Speak,” I demand when he doesn’t say anything else.

  “Luke, the guy who saved Andrea.” My stomach twists, and thoughts run rampant in my head. First, is the fucker alive? Second, is he out for Andrea because he liked her or obsessed about her? Along with a million more.

  “He’s dead, brother,” Triple Threat announces, and I let out a gust of air I didn’t know I held, while all the thoughts from before crumble and fall to the ground in a heap. “His grave has been fucked with.”

  “What?”

  Triple Threat pulls out his phone and turns it to show me a picture of a gravestone that has been hit with something hard and pieces broken off of it. Those pieces lay on the dirt that has been dug up in a piles. There’s also bright yellow spray paint over his name ‘Lucas Alan Tynes.’

  Triple Threat flips through a few more pictures, and I can see that the holes in the ground aren’t deep and they really don’t form any sort of pattern.

  “Cops?”

  “They’re on it, but so far—no prints. I hacked into the cemetery security feed, and whoever did this knew exactly where the cameras were and how to maneuver around them. Here.” He types something in his phone, and up comes an image of a person wearing a black hoodie, face completely covered and sunglasses on their eyes. Gloves cover their hands, pants covering their lower half, and black boots. All of it disguising the person well. From the frame, I can’t tell if it’s a male or a female.

  “What else?”

  “Yep, there’s more.” Triple Threat swipes the screen, and a pile of burnt rubble appears. “Luke’s house. His wife had it on the market to sell. Shit’s burned to the ground. According to police records, the place was empty because the wife and kids had found an apartment they were staying in. It’s being blamed on a faulty water heater.”

  “That’s shit.” Anyone can fucking make it look like a fire with a water heater. Only a few tweaks and it’s golden. Especially if the place burns down completely because the fire marshal has nothing to go on but what’s left. We’ve done it ourselves to lose any traces of us at the scene.

  “That happened yesterday morning. The grave happened last night. Now the cops are looking into both differently.”

  “Well, no fuck there. Doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out they’re connected,” DJ comments, crossing his arms over his chest.

  “Right, but the cops got nothin’. I pulled the camera from the street.” Triple Threat holds up another video. A black Chevy Impala is fuzzy, but there with the same figure as the gravesite running back to the car. This person gets in and takes off, all the while the house burns in the background.

  “The car was found about thirty miles away. It was stolen the day before. Cops
found no prints or anything to go on. They did find the shovel and spray paint. They’re looking into stores around Palm Coast, Florida who sold these two items together in the past two weeks. So far, nothing.”

  “This is a damn clusterfuck!” Clenching my fists, I walk over to the wall and punch it hard, my hand going through the drywall. My hand bleeds, but it does nothing to elevate the anger and frustration.

  “Luke’s family is trying to get a new tombstone, but they’re having problems coming up with the money.”

  “Pay it,” I call into the wall heaving.

  “Already did, brother.”

  “Thanks.” I allow the relief to wash over me that I have the man who is a real Triple Threat and the Rebels at my back taking care of a family who lost their man while he saved my woman.

  DJ squeezes my shoulder. “Might wanna consider sharing this with Andrea, Shamus. She needs to know this wasn’t random.”

  I simply nod my head knowing the pain I’m about to lay on my woman’s lap. All the while she’s been fighting her injury only to now find herself in a different kind of danger that is going to make her fight a completely different kind of battle.

  “What?” Drea gasps, holding her chest and plopping down onto the couch in DJ’s living room beside me. I can’t wait to get our place done. Only a little bit more and we can move in. It kills me to tell her, but she has a right to know. It’s time to lay all the cards out on the table and see what we can come up with. I give her the brief run down of Luke’s grave and home. Then I tell her about the pictures in her mother’s home. She fights back the tears before she snuggles into me and lets them go.

  “I’ve already taken care of Luke’s tombstone.”

  She looks up at me, tears falling from her eyes. “Thank you,” she whispers. “Why is this happening?”

  “I don’t know, but I’m damned sure going to find out. Come hell or high water.” I twist the ends of her hair between my thumb and first finger. “I’ll keep you safe, Kitten.”