SAVING REBEL: Renegade Rebels Motorcycle Club

by Palomino, Honey

I sighed as my bike flew down the freeway, the big Texas moon following me as I made my way to White Rock Lake, circling it three times before I decided to go back to Harley’s for the night.

  I had a plan for tomorrow, and I needed to get some sleep so that I could be as alert as possible. It was important I didn’t fuck anything up, or get caught.

  But I knew I had to do it. I was going to watch the club’s meeting. From afar and from a safe distance, of course. And secretly.

  I knew neither Harley or Mason would approve, but now that I knew there was something big going down, and since I overheard the location and time, I couldn’t resist going to watch.

  It might be a little risky, but I knew I could keep myself safe. If I stayed far enough away, I knew that nothing bad would happen. I would stay alert, keep an eye on my surroundings, and get there early so that I could find the perfect hiding spot.

  Everything would be fine.

  And then, afterwards? When everything was over, and Mason and Harley were happy everything had gone so well, then maybe Mason and I could talk to Harley together. We could tell him how we felt about each other.

  Sure, Mason hadn’t told me he loved me back, but I knew it. I could see it in his eyes. I could hear it in his voice, and feel it every time he touched me. It didn’t matter if his touch was gentle or rough, there was strong emotion behind every caress and he could try denying it if he wanted to, if he felt the need to, but I knew better.

  I may not have ever been in love before, but I knew it was real. Nothing in the world had ever felt like this for me.

  I lay alone in bed that night still smelling him, still tasting his kiss on my lips and still feeling his hands running over my naked skin as I drifted off to sleep a changed woman.

  ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼

  My eyes opened Saturday morning to the sounds of birds chirping. I rolled over, groaning unhappily at the emptiness of my bed.

  I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about Rebel. Imagining what my life might look like with Rebel in it. Imagining what my bed would look like with Rebel in it, tangled in my sheets, her hair messed up and her lips swollen from my kisses.

  I knew she was mad at me, but she was just going to have to get over it. I hadn’t told Harley about us last night, but only because it wasn’t the right time. As soon as today was over, I was going to tell him everything, whether he wanted to hear it or not.

  And then she wouldn’t be mad anymore.

  Then, she would smile that thousand-watt smile at me, and she would wrap those long arms and legs around me, and I could lose myself in her again, I could spend hours inside her warmth, tasting her and teasing her until we were both crying out in pleasure.

  She had been so amazing beneath me last night. My cock hardened as visions of her softening below me ran through my head, her body submitting to my hard thrusts. She was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen, and I planned to make her all mine.

  As soon as this fucking day was over.

  I wanted to rush through it, have it over and done with in whatever the easiest way possible was. But with something like this, there was no easy way.

  It was dangerous, pure and simple. Dangerous, with a capital D.

  But despite that fact, I was confident we could handle it. Harley had a way of exerting himself that made you more than happy to oblige him, no matter what he wanted, and I knew he would be fully exercising that unique gift of his in this situation.

  After a quick meeting at the clubhouse, ten of us suited up, arming ourselves fully, a show of excessive force that was more for intimidating the cartel instead of actually using it. Harley and I, and eight other brothers, mounted our bikes and put on our helmets. Hairy Joe and Hooligan, two of our longest standing brothers, rode in the truck, which carried even more guns and ammunition, should the need arise.

  We caravanned down the street, turning heads the entire way there. Harley had gotten the word from Johnny that everything was going as planned, and by the time we arrived, both the cartel and El Loco Gatos were locked inside the warehouse.

  We parked our bikes and the van around the corner, and walked down behind the warehouse, quietly opening the back door Johnny had left unlocked for us.

  We walked down a long hallway, and then stopped to watch the men standing in the center of the room. Hiding in the darkness on the edge of the dimly lit warehouse, we sat back, watching and waiting until Harley gave us a sign.

  The warehouse was one big, empty concrete room, with a huge, dark loft hanging on the side of it. No windows, no ventilation, and suffocatingly hot.

  “Dónde está la cocaína?” Johnny asked Sergio Garcia, the leader of the cartel, the most dangerous drug dealer this side of the Mexican border.

  “Dónde está el dinero?” Sergio replied.

  Johnny nodded to another man on his right. He lifted up a dirty, black duffel bag and placed it on the table between the two groups of men. The tension was thick, and everyone in the room had their hands placed on the guns at their sides, ready for all hell to break loose at any moment.

  I held my breath, keeping one eye on Harley and one eye on the men in front of us.

  The sound of Sergio unzipping the bag was the only sound in the room. He looked at the wads of cash inside, nodded his head to a man standing on his left, and smiled at Johnny.

  Sergio’s man placed two briefcases on the table, and Johnny slowly walked over and opened each of them. Taking a knife out of his pocket, he stabbed one of the bricks contained inside them. He stuck his finger inside it, then licked the powdery white cocaine from his finger.

  “Delicioso!” he said, his voice echoing through the warehouse eerily.

  “Un placer hacer negocios con ustedes, mis amigos,” Sergio said.

  “A pleasure doing business with you, too,” Johnny replied in English.

  The loud sound of the latches on the briefcase clicking shut and the zipping of the bags rang in my ears, and as Harley slowly rose from his kneeling position, we all followed suit, one by one standing up and following our leader, our guns drawn, our senses on the highest alert.

  We were some tough motherfuckers, no doubt about it, but even the bravest of men would find their hearts racing in a situation like this. I’m sure none of us took a breath from the moment we walked in the door, and I could have sworn I heard Harley’s heart beating loudly in his chest beside me.

  We approached the cartel from behind, the Gatos seeing us, but not letting on that we were there. The cartel consisted of five men, and we quickly came up behind each one of them, the clicking of our guns at their temples causing them to freeze one by one.

  Harley was the only one who spoke, standing with his gun pressed hard to Sergio’s temple. Sergio and his men dropped their guns right away, their hands rising to the ceiling in surrender.

  “Hello, my friend,” Harley said, circling around to look Sergio in the eye.

  “Amigo Hola, mi vestido de cuero,” Sergio replied, his smirk failing miserably at concealing his fear.

  “Sergio, I’m so disappointed in you. You know this transaction is against our agreement. I don’t have to explain that to a man as intelligent as yourself, now do I?” Harley smiled, his grin as intimidating as if he were snarling.

  “No, amigo,” Sergio replied quietly.

  “Sergio, have I been kind to you so far?”

  “Yes, amigo, very kind,” Sergio replied. His hands were raised above his head, and I saw him shaking and smiled to myself.

  “Thank you. I like to think I’m a kind man. But here’s the rub, Sergio. If I’m too kind, people do things like this to me, because they think they can get away with it. And I just can’t let that happen.”

  “No, amigo.” Sergio’s face was full of fear, and Harley took full advantage of it, pressing his gun directly into the middle of his forehead. Sweat began to pour down Sergio’s face as he shook his head.

  “No. No is the right answer. Now, the problem, Sergio, is that I like you. I like doing bu
siness with you, and I would like to continue to do so.”

  It was moments like this that made me love Harley. He was as calm as if he were talking about the weather, while everyone around us were almost pissing their pants in fear. He had always been like that. That’s why he was made president so quickly, he handled stress like it was a walk in the park.

  “Unfortunately, in order to continue doing business with you, I’m going to need two things from you.”

  “Si, amigo. Anything you want. I apologize sincerely.” Sergio knew the right things to say. It didn’t matter that he was a powerful leader of a huge drug cartel, when someone had a gun pointed at your brain, you tended to do whatever they wanted.

  With a smile, if possible.

  “Good, good. First, you’ll need to agree to never go behind my back and sell to any gangs in my territory. Can you do that?”

  “Si, amigo. Absolutely.”

  “Good, good. And second, I’m going to need to confiscate that product you were trying to sell today.”

  Sergio look defeated, and he was. There was nothing he could do but agree. What else was he going to do? Fight us? Of course not. He was smarter than that.

  “I understand, amigo.”

  “Excellent. Now,” Harley said, his gun still pressed to Sergio’s sweaty forehead, while he spoke to Johnny. “Johnny, you and your men can go ahead and leave. Thank you for your cooperation. Take your cash with you.”

  Johnny nodded silently, grabbed his duffel bag, and walked down the hallway, he and his men exiting out the back door of the warehouse.

  “Oh, and Sergio, we’re going to be taking these guns, too. Gather ‘em up, boys.”

  Hairy Joe and Hooligan picked up the guns at the feet of the cartel men and then grabbed the briefcases. We walked out without another word said, Sergio and his men watching us leave, their hands still up in the air as the door closed shut behind us.

  ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼

  We roared up to the clubhouse full of piss, vinegar and dangerously increased levels of testosterone and adrenaline.

  “Fuck yes!” I yelled at the top of my lungs, as I pulled my helmet off my head.

  The hooting and hollering began as soon as we entered the clubhouse. Someone turned on the stereo, and the sounds of Lynyrd Skynyrd poured out of the speakers. The whiskey began to flow, and a tray loaded with joints and cocaine was pulled from its hiding place behind the bar.

  I hated cocaine. I always had. And I wasn’t fond of doing business that involved it, but it paid the bills, and this was most definitely a job where you sometimes had to do shit you didn’t want to.

  Like Sergio. I really did like him. Up until now, all of our interactions had been pleasant and easy. But business was business, and just as I had told him, there was no way I could let him get away with fucking me over like that.

  I sincerely hoped he learned his lesson, because having to punish him any further than taking his drugs was really going to be unpleasant for me.

  I hated the violent part of my job, but it was a necessary evil.

  But, for now, I was thankful that whole thing was over, and no blood was spilled. Every now and then, one of my brothers got injured during one of our jobs, and there was nothing that hurt me more. I was constantly wracked with guilt for putting our boys in harm’s way, no matter how inevitable I knew it was.

  The next few days should be calm and easy, and I was looking forward to a little bit of time to breathe and relax. Maybe I would try to spend some time with Rebel, try to guide her to a job and a place to live.

  She was a lot more grown up than most women her age, but she still needed some guidance. Now that this thing with the cartel was over, I was looking forward to getting to know her better.

  I spent the day at the clubhouse celebrating with the boys and letting off steam.

  Mason cornered me after a while, and when he told me he wanted to talk to me, I knew it was about Rebel.

  I decided to cut him a little slack, and stopped him before he could get started.

  “Look, Mason, it’s okay, man. I forgive you about what happened with Rebel. Obviously, the two of you are made for each other, fuck the sparks flying off the two of you are enough to light a bonfire.”

  “Are you serious, Harley?” He looked at me so solemnly, so sincerely, that I reached out and hugged the poor chap.

  “Yeah, dude,” I said, hitting him on the back. “It’s all good. I wish you both luck. You have my blessing.”

  “Um, Harley, I’m not sure you understand. I think I’m in love with her.”

  “I know, Mason. Listen, man, just treat her right, and everything will work out. I love that little brat.” I winked at him, and a huge smile of relief spread across his face.

  I could only imagine what Rebel’s face would look like when Mason told her that they had my blessing.

  For a brief moment, I wondered what my parents would say, but I dismissed it as quickly as it came. I was the one in charge now.

  ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼

  I arrived at the warehouse before anyone else, early the next morning. After parking my bike three blocks away, and hiding it deep between two narrow buildings, I trotted around to the back door of the empty warehouse.

  Quietly and quickly, I picked the lock outside, just like Harley had taught me when we were breaking into our parents bedroom to steal sips from the liquor bottles they hid in there. I had loved the sound and feeling when the lock finally slid open, that feeling of accomplishing something forbidden. It had become a little hobby of mine to try to figure out how to open as many locks as I could over the years. And I was good at it.

  I locked the door behind me as I tiptoed in. It was hours before the meeting was supposed to happen, and I had my backpack with me. It was the same backpack I had since I was twelve - it was made of worn black leather and had a Renegade Rebels patch sewn on the front of it. It contained a bottle of water, a package of chips and a chocolate bar. I knew I might be there a while.

  I quickly scanned the place and saw that I was alone. I found a dark corner up in the secluded loft to hide in, where I could see the rest of the warehouse perfectly. I settled in, turned my cell phone on silent, and opened my water bottle, slowly sipping it, and scrolling through facebook on my phone while I waited.

  El Loco Gatos showed up first. They stood around, speaking Spanish and looking around the place. I was sure nobody would come up to the loft, and I was right. When the cartel showed up shortly after, my heart was racing as I watched from my perch.

  I wasn’t exactly sure what to expect, but I knew the Renegade Rebels were going to show up, and I couldn’t wait to see Harley and Mason in action.

  When it all went down, I wasn’t disappointed, and I was filled with respect and admiration for my brother and Mason. Sure, it was scary, but they handled the entire interaction with complete professionalism and calmness. It was impressive.

  I waited around until the MC and the El Loco Gatos left, watching the men in the cartel express their extreme anger. I was thankful they couldn’t see me, and for the first time all day I began feeling like maybe it was a bad idea to come here.

  If something happened, Harley wouldn’t even know I was here. But I just couldn’t let that happen.

  The cartel stuck around much longer than I anticipated. My plan was to just quietly slip out after everyone had left, completely unseen. But they must have stayed there another hour, making phone calls and yelling at each other in Spanish, hanging out as if they were waiting for something.

  I quietly sipped my water, until I began to feel the urge to pee, and yet the last thing I could do was get up from my perch. I shifted my body, trying to squeeze my thighs together and think of anything else besides peeing.

  Another half hour passed, and I was about to burst. What the fuck was I thinking? This entire day had gone from a great idea of innocently watching my brother work, to the worst idea ever. When were these idiots going to leave, I wondered for the fiftieth time.<
br />
  Finally, they began packing up their things after a particularly intense conversation, of which I could understand not one word.

  Learning Spanish was not high on my list of priorities while I was growing up. I knew how to order Mexican food, but that was the extent of my vocabulary.

  I sighed a huge sigh of relief when they finally trailed out of the warehouse. I packed up my things, and quickly descended the staircase leading to the loft. I waited another excruciating five minutes to give them time to drive away, and exited the building the same way I came in, through the back door.

  I made sure the coast was clear, then I sprinted down the few blocks to where my bike was parked, pulled down my blue jean shorts, squatted next to my bike and sighed heavily as sweet relief washed over me.

  I had my head down, staring at the concrete when I saw a pair of leather boots walk up next to me, and the click of a gun cocking sounded next to my ear.

  I swallowed hard, and looked up slowly, straight into the eyes of Sergio Garcia.

  “Well, well, well, what do we have here?” I grabbed my shorts, and stood up slowly, pulling them up as I did so. I fastened them quickly, then put my hands up.

  Sergio watched me, keeping the gun to my head the entire time. My body began shaking, and the realization that Harley and Mason had no idea where I was sank in fast and I felt sicker than I had ever been in my life.

  “Who are you?”

  “Um…Rebel.”

  “Rebel? Your name is Rebel?” He sneered with his thick accent, and then laughed loudly as three of his men came around the corner, guns drawn and pointed straight at me.

  “Y-yes.” I stuttered. How the fuck was I going to get out of this?

  “So, Rebel. What were you doing in the warehouse back there? My men saw you walk out.”

  “Um…I was just looking around, that’s all.”

  “Looking around, eh?” He raised an eyebrow, looking at me suspiciously. “And what did you see?”