Rebel Soul: (Rebel Series Book 1) ((Rebel Series))

by J. C. Hannigan

  “None taken.” I frowned. “And for the record, I didn’t want to spend my Friday night being chaperoned by someone’s older brother. I have enough of my own, thank you.”

  Brock’s mouth curved into an attractive smile that made the butterflies I’d felt earlier come back full force. There it was, that complete chemical reaction I’d been so desperate to find an hour ago. Now, I wish it would disappear back to wherever it came from.

  He tilted his head, studying me as closely as I studied him. “Are you the Armstrong girl? Gordon’s little sister?”

  “I am,” I retorted, straightening my spine so I’d stand taller. Even with my posture as straight as I could get it, Brock still towered over me by at least a head and a half. It bothered me more than I cared to admit that Brock didn’t immediately remember who I was.

  His eyes traveled down the length of my body slowly. I clung tighter to the sweater in my hands, thrown off by how greatly that simple gaze affected me. “Well, ain’t that something.”

  I narrowed my eyes at him, disliking the fact that I liked the covert way he was looking at me.

  That Miller boy, he’s trouble, Tessa. My dad’s words came back, the ominous forewarning washing over me like a wave.

  “Why are you chaperoning anyway?” I asked, the question spilling from my lips before I could prevent it.

  “This is my property,” Brock explained, nodding to the clearing. “My brother has a tendency to do stupid things and let stuff get out of hand. I’m just here to make sure that doesn’t happen.”

  “Oh,” I exhaled, unaware that I’d been holding my breath. “I guess that explains the lurking and bummer attitude.”

  “Guess so,” Brock replied, taking another swig of his beer and glancing towards the fire. I almost felt like Brock was trying to dismiss me, and I liked that even less than I liked the fact that he hadn’t remembered me.

  “Why didn’t you just tell him he couldn’t throw a party here?” I asked.

  Brock looked at me again, and my breath caught somewhere in my esophagus. “Because I’m putting him to work tomorrow as payment.”

  “Putting him to work for what?”

  “You ask a lot of questions.” Brock’s sensual lips twitched, and I licked mine in response.

  “So? Asking questions isn’t a bad thing.”

  “No, it’s not,” Brock agreed. He considered me for a moment. “I’m building a cabin. I have a friend coming over with the wood miller tomorrow, and Braden is going to help.”

  “Oh,” I said, surprised by his answer.

  Brock picked up on my surprise, and the corner of his lip lifted in a taunting smirk. “Did you think I was going to put him to work doing something illegal?”

  “No,” I said quickly, my eyes narrowing at him. “I just didn’t expect you to say you were going to build a cabin. You just got back into town.”

  “I’ve had this land for years. It’s time I did something with it,” Brock muttered. He was still looking at me, and that gaze was doing all kinds of things to my body. My blood felt hot and thick in my veins, and breathing was becoming increasingly harder to do.

  “Oh, well, congrats I guess. I, um…I’d better get back,” I said, taking a step backwards, away from that molten gaze. “Have fun lurking in the shadows,” I added. His lips curved up in the tiniest hint of a smile and I thought I heard the faint sound of him chuckling.

  * * *

  After my third beer, I stopped caring that Brock was there…watching, and I started to have fun. My discomfort at my body’s unexpected reaction to Brock Miller disappeared as the party grew from a cluster of six people to a whopping twenty or more. Each time someone else joined the fun, the fire grew and so did the noise level.

  The cordless speakers were now pumping country music. Music, laughter and conversations flowed while the fire flickered. I sat beside Elle on a log in front of the fire, watching the antics around me while I started my fourth beer.

  I kept catching the guy standing across the fire beside Ezra staring at me. Each time I’d catch him looking he’d look away and slowly sip from his beer, half a smile curving the corner of his thin lips upward. I didn’t recognize him at all.

  I elbowed Elle’s side. “Who’s that guy?” I demanded, gesturing across the fire when he’d finally looked elsewhere. He must have still been watching me out of the corner of his eye, because his smile grew when I pointed in his direction.

  Elle looked up, squinting. “That’s Ezra’s cousin. I think his name is Chris or something.”

  “He’s not from around here,” I pointed out.

  “I know.” Elle grinned, shoving me playfully with her shoulder. “I think he’s here for the rodeo. Why the interest? Do you like him?”

  I squinted again, trying to get a closer look. Chris was…average looking. Brown hair, average face, average build. Nothing about him stood out except maybe his clothes. He didn’t dress like the guys from around here. Guys from Parry Sound wore blue jeans, plaid shirts, and camo. Chris was dressed in DC from head to toe.

  I wrinkled my nose. “No, not my thing.” I couldn’t help but think of Brock. I searched the crowd, finally spotting him standing with Braden, taking slow sips of his beer while they inspected the new tires Peter O’Connor had put on his 1976 Bronco.

  “Is anyone ever your thing?” Elle sighed, her voice pulling my gaze away from Brock’s tall form. She rolled her eyes at me and smirked; she’d caught exactly where I’d been looking. Before I could respond, Elle was nudging me again. She pointed to the back of Ezra’s truck, where Krista and Joanna were trying to climb up. Ezra took pity on their level of intoxication and helped them up, shaking his head ruefully. It was common knowledge that Ezra had a thing for Krista. It was definitely evident in the way his hand lingered on the back pocket of her shorts for a fraction of a second too long.

  I remained beside Elle on the log, watching as Krista and Joanna danced in the bed of Ezra’s truck. They were belting out the lyrics to Florida Georgia Line’s “Sippin on Fire”, completely off key. Guys were hooting, acting like they were Nashville stars. Elle and I looked at one another and exploded into a fit of giggles.

  Then “Somethin’ Bad” by Miranda Lambert and Carrie Underwood came on, and Elle’s laugh faded away. She gave me a knowing look before she grabbed a hold of my hand and yanked me up. “Oh hell no, Elle!” I told her, laughing harder while I shook my head. I was smiling so much that my cheeks actually hurt.

  “Yes, hell yes,” Elle corrected, waving a finger at me with a devilish grin. “This is our song, and we’re actually pretty good at singing it,” she pointed out with a wink. I knew that Elle was drunk, and I was pretty gone myself. I knew that I was having fun and I didn’t want to stop, and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t fishing for some attention from a certain dark and mysterious guy who evoked strange sensations in the pit of my belly. I caught Brock’s eye as I followed Elle towards the truck. The way he looked at me set me on fire. It was so intense I had to turn away, suddenly regretting my decision to follow Elle.

  It was too late to back out now; Elle wouldn’t hear of it even if I wanted to. Krista and Joanna helped pull us up. “Don’t you dare change that, Braden!” Elle shouted, seeing Braden moving towards the speakers. He stopped, raising his beer in surrender, a smirk upon his lips.

  Elle threw her arm around my shoulders and gave me an encouraging wink before she started to sing. Elle and I were quite good at singing; we could carry a tune and harmonize together after years of singing into hair brushes in her bedroom during sleepovers. I joined in confidently, along with Krista and Joanna on my left. I had no idea what we sounded like with them, but I didn’t care. Everyone else was having a blast, singing along and grinning like they were at an actual concert, not at some bush party with a bunch of drunk girls.

  And Brock’s eyes. They were fixed on me the entire time, a gentle smile playing on those thick lips. His eyes made my heart rate accelerate and the butterflies take flight. Even when
I closed my eyes, I could still feel the heat of his gaze.

  We couldn’t even finish singing the song before the four of us dissolved in a fit of laughter. I suddenly had to pee something fierce, and I needed a moment away from those eyes before I did something I’d undoubtedly regret in the morning. “I need to pee,” I told Elle, squeezing her arm. “Come with me!”

  “Oh, but I really love this song!” Elle pouted. I shrugged, unconcerned and climbed down off the back of the truck. I lacked grace, but at least I didn’t stumble and eat dirt. I wandered towards the bush and walked a little ways into the thicket, safe from any eyes that happened to look in my direction. Not that they’d see me anyway; it was pitch black.

  I’d been peeing outside since I was a little kid; I had gotten the art down to perfection. I finished my business quickly and hiked my jeans up, buttoning them with clumsy fingers. I almost giggled, I was drunker than I thought.

  The sound of twigs breaking beneath heavy footfalls made me freeze.

  “Oh don’t pull those up just yet, sweet cheeks,” the disembodied voice said, making my blood run cold. I swallowed hard.

  “Who is that? Braden…it’s not funny. Don’t even play.” I folded my arms across my chest, trying to keep myself from trembling.

  The voice laughed, and the figure stepped forward. The little bit of light that came from the fire in the clearing was almost enough to make out his features. It was the guy that had been standing across from the fire, watching me. Ezra’s cousin, Chris.

  Dread washed over me, and my skin erupted in goose bumps as he spoke.

  “I’m clearly not Braden.”

  “You’re also clearly not funny,” I retorted, my voice sounding strong to my ears. This situation had me desperately wishing I wasn’t drunk.

  “I’m not trying to be funny,” Chris said, stepping towards me. I didn’t like how he was leering. I didn’t like the way his tongue darted out and licked across his lips, as if he was hungry and I was food.

  “Leave me alone,” I ordered, about to whirl around and head back to the group. His arm shot out and grabbed my wrist painfully hard.

  “Come on, don’t be a cock tease. I saw the way you were looking at me. You want it.” His breath smelled like whiskey and cigarettes. Chris was obviously three sheets to the wind.

  “I definitely don’t,” I assured him, trying to wrench my wrist from his grip. He sneered, squeezing tighter and twisting. He yanked me towards him, and I collided with his chest. My head knocked against his chin and he swore before the back of his free hand struck my cheek with a staggering force. I stumbled, seeing stars. I tried to shove him away, but his hands were on me again, grabbing my body and trying to touch me in places I didn’t want to be touched.

  “Stop!” I tried to shout before his clammy hand clamped over my mouth, silencing my protests.

  Tears blurred my vision and I panicked. My brothers and my father had all made sure to teach me a few basic self-defense moves, but it was an entirely different thing to apply what I learned when I was thirteen now that I was in a situation like this. I couldn’t recall anything, but I refused to be compliant and still. I thrashed about, trying to elbow and knee in places, trying to make enough noise that someone at the fire would hear me. But the music was too loud, people were talking and we were too far away. I had a terrible feeling that no one would come.

  Chris had my body pressed against the nearest tree, pinning me to it.

  In a matter of seconds, he had unbuttoned my jeans and was trying to force his hand down between my legs. I squeezed with all my might, trying to keep his intrusive fingers away. I couldn’t speak with his hand clamped over my mouth, but I kept trying to scream. My voice came out in muffled whimpers. I could barely see through the tears, and I tried to shake my head and plead with him to stop. Chris laughed darkly, shoving my head back so it hit the trunk of the tree. I bit my tongue, and instantly a metallic taste filled my mouth; I knew it had to be the taste of my own blood.

  Just before the hopeless desperation welled over me, I heard a sinister growling sound that made the hair on the nape of my neck stand up. All I could do was watch as a huge dog darted from the clearing and latched on to Chris’s leg. Brock’s dog.

  Chris released me, swearing as he tried to free his leg from the dog’s mouth. He kicked at it with his free foot, but the dog didn’t seem to feel the impact at all. He was relentlessly shaking the limb he had. The effort of trying to kick the dog had Chris falling to the ground, but the dog didn’t loosen its hold.

  My hands gripped into the bark of the tree I was still leaning against and I desperately fought to keep myself from completely collapsing. I knew I should run, but my limbs wouldn’t work.

  Brock

  As the hours passed, the party grew, more and more people appeared in my little clearing. The fire grew, the noise level grew, and my patience shrank.

  I’d been back in town for a week, and this was my first “public appearance”. It had been a long time since I was surrounded by so many people, and I can’t say that I was comfortable about it. I was on edge, and I couldn’t tell if something was actually off about tonight, or if Tessa Armstrong had just thrown me for a loop.

  After our brief conversation by her truck, I’d watched as she returned to the fire and her friends and struggled to make sense of whatever the hell happened to me back there.

  The last time I was around Tessa Armstrong, she was eleven and definitely not the young woman who’d stood before me, amber eyes wide with want. Tessa had always been a pretty girl, but now she was stunning…now, I was attracted to her. It took everything I had to not walk up to her and kiss those smart lips until she melted into me. During our conversation, I found myself wanting to know exactly what sounds she’d make when pleasured.

  And no good things could come from that. I knew the Armstrong clan enough to know that they wouldn’t let me anywhere near Tessa. Hell, they wouldn’t have let me near her before the label of ex-convict befell my shoulders. I knew this with utmost sincerity: if any of her brothers knew that Tessa was in the same place as me, they’d be here to drag her home.

  I needed to keep my distance.

  Still, my eyes betrayed me. Time and time again, they’d float over to the fire pit just to catch a glimpse, almost like I was already addicted to the sight of her. After a while, she seemed to relax and even started to have a little fun with her best friend, my brother’s girlfriend. I turned to watch her laugh, the way she tossed her head back, her slender throat just begging to be ravished.

  What the hell? I shook my head, trying to clear away the overtly sexual thoughts about my former best friend’s little sister from my mind.

  “You know, it’s not a bad thing,” my brother remarked, leaning against a parked Bronco. He took a slow sip of his beer, his eyes fixed on my face. Braden looked a lot like I had at his age. Lean, mischievous, that I-don’t-give-a-fuck attitude I used to wear like armor. He had our mom’s thin lips and we both shared the Miller characteristics of dark hair, chiseled features, and a fighter’s personality.

  “What?” I gave Braden a warning look, hoping it would convey that he’d better not go where I thought he was going to go.

  Braden’s lips perked up in defiance, and I knew the little shit knew. He just didn’t care. His eyes flickered to the fire, to where Elle and Tessa were sitting. “Tessa. It’s not a bad thing. She’s actually really cool.”

  I narrowed my eyes at him. “I’m not interested.” My tone booked no room for argument, and anybody else would have backed slowly away and let it be. Not Braden though; he liked to get under my skin about shit like this. His eyes came back to focus on me. They were glassy from the eight beers he’d downed.

  “Yes you are. You’d be fucking nuts not to be. Half the guys around here wish they could land Tessa. She’s picky though, really fucking picky. And her brothers don’t exactly make things easy.” One of his friends walked by, and Braden’s face lit up with humor. “Fuck, you should have s
een what they did to Ezra. Eh, Ezra!” Braden gripped his buddy on the shoulder, buckling over and using his grip to keep himself from falling completely forward.

  Ezra looked from me to Braden, confusion lining his face. “What?”

  “When you fucked Tessa!” Braden laughed, still buckled over with laughter. A swell of jealousy unlike anything I’d experienced before almost consumed me, and I had to work extra hard to keep my face indifferent.

  Ezra frowned, irritated that he was bringing it up. “Fuck off,” he muttered, shrugging off Braden’s hand. He continued walking over to his truck, shaking his head and sending a dark look over his shoulder.

  “Fuck, all three of them showed up to give him a ‘talking to’. He ended up with a black eye and I think he pissed himself!”

  It was really difficult to keep the smile from teasing up the corners of my lips at the mental image Braden painted, but it became easier when my thoughts focused on the fact that Ezra had fucked Tessa.

  Jealousy wasn’t something I was accustomed to, especially jealousy to this extent, over a girl. Well, a woman now, but still. I didn’t do jealousy.

  Braden straightened up, wiping at his eyes a little to rid the moisture. He actually cried he was laughing so hard. “I don’t think that’d be a problem for you though,” he remarked, eyeing me warily. “You’re fucking jacked.”

  I exhaled deeply. “I’m not into Tessa,” I said, forcing each of my words to drive a point into Braden that I sincerely hoped he’d pick up.

  “Whatever. Some other chick then. I highly doubt Alberta work camps are plentiful in the pootie tang department. I know jail sure as fuck wasn’t.”

  I stiffened at the mention of jail, and for the first time that night, Braden looked almost apologetic. He cleared his throat and took another swig of his beer. “I’m just saying, go get balls deep in some chick. I think it’d help you lighten the fuck up,” Braden added, letting his hand drop with the empty beer. He avoided my gaze like the plague, focusing on the first person he saw nearby. “Yo, Peter! Come over here for a minute!”