“How could we sell tubes to an MC that doesn’t exist?”
“Not an MC—and fuck, they exist…although if I have my way, not for much longer.”
“I call bullshit on the tubes. Give me a name Caspar can trace—we have records.”
He lifted his chin. “Look for a big order under V. Kash.”
Rebel narrowed his eyes. “You know him?”
“Defiance killed him. Victor.”
Rebel stilled “Victor was working for the Nomads?”
Declan nodded. “Lance and Victor also had plans. Now, don’t ask any other questions you might not want answers to, hear?”
“I want all the motherfucking answers,” Rebel said stubbornly.
Declan shook his head slowly. “You’re in too deep already. I’m not pulling you in further.”
Rebel had a decision to make—either he was in or completely out. Either way, he was screwed…but with one of them, he wouldn’t have Declan.
And goddammit, Rebel wanted him. “You took me to dinner. Made me think—”
“What, Reb? That we were on a date?” Declan’s eyes blazed. “You don’t think I want that? You don’t think I could’ve just taken you somewhere to wait and snuck out and done my job? Not like I haven’t done it before.”
“How romantic—dinner and a killing.”
“At least I took you out in public. I notice you weren’t giving a shit who saw us.”
“Because who would think—” He stopped abruptly when Declan’s eyes flashed. Regretted starting the sentence that Declan finished for him…
“Who’d think that Defiance would be in bed with Keller. Right. It’s ridiculous.”
He’d spoken so calmly that his lunge at Rebel was a surprise. Even though Rebel hadn’t expected it, he was built for fighting, always primed, reflexes at the ready. But still, Declan was strong. And pissed. More so than Rebel—which, hell, Rebel should be the one with all that anger Declan now possessed.
And then all that anger slammed Rebel to the wall, and then Declan grabbed him and slammed him to the floor just as quickly. Before Declan could do anything further, Rebel rolled him until they hit the wall again…with Rebel on top.
They were both hard. Panting. Sweating, clawing, punching, and still somehow struggling to get closer to each other. But as soon as the fight became about fucking, as soon as his brain realized that and switched from fight to fuck, Declan was touching him.
Declan’s hands were strong on his shoulders, prepared to shove him away…but his mouth accepted the hungry kisses readily. Rebel could kiss him for hours and it wouldn’t be enough. At least that’s what it felt like at this moment. Declan was pushing his body up against Rebel’s, and Rebel was so lost in the kiss that he barely registered Declan wrapping arms and legs around him. Free hands in Rebel’s hair, and it was so good. So good, until Rebel noticed and then, before the panic could set in, he sat up and grabbed to restrain Declan’s arms. As he did so, Declan’s legs dropped from Rebel’s back and onto the carpeted floor. Declan didn’t fight the hold on his wrists. He looked up at Rebel, face flushed, lips swollen and almost bruised-looking, and panted, “Fuck me, Reb. Now.”
He grabbed the collar of Declan’s sweater—fine black cashmere that wouldn’t look nearly as good on anyone as tough as Declan was. His long, fluid body screamed sex and the fuck-me vibe was unmistakable and handled without arrogance.
“Take it off,” Declan told him.
Rebel complied. When he let go of Declan’s wrists, Declan kept his hands in place, so Rebel tore the sweater over Declan’s head smoothly. Then he pulled his own T-shirt off and used it to bind Declan’s hands together…and then to the table leg near his head.
Once bound, Declan sighed contentedly, like he didn’t have to think any longer about what to do next. Now, he could just feel everything Rebel would do to him…and Rebel had plans.
Chapter Fifteen
He’d needed this so badly—and Rebel hadn’t turned him away. He could’ve, easily, and Declan wouldn’t have blamed him. The assassination tonight had turned everything the both of them knew on its ear, changed their futures forever. Whether it was for better or worse remained to be seen.
Rebel worked his way along Declan’s body, sucking and biting, adding his own marks to Declan’s tattoos as Declan’s skin tingled and tightened at his touches. “Yeah, Reb…just like that.”
And when Rebel had marked what seemed like every part of Declan, that’s when he began to ready Declan to take him.
“Fuck the lube—I don’t care,” Declan told him. “I want it to hurt.”
Rebel didn’t completely comply with that, but he used less lube than he normally would’ve, allowing Declan to feel the sweet burn as he entered. After that, Rebel fucked him in earnest, taking out his frustrations from the evening, exactly as Declan wanted him to.
The carpet burned against Declan’s back as Rebel drove into him. His legs were splayed on Rebel’s shoulders and he was totally helpless against the onslaught.
He closed his eyes and let Rebel’s special brand of magic fucking take him out of himself. The past weeks leading until tonight had been tension filled, and tonight had been a culmination, a release.
Having Rebel fuck him was the icing on the day. And after he’d come, yelling Rebel’s name, Rebel untied his wrists from the table and flipped him onto his belly. Once retied, with Rebel’s arm under him to hold him up a bit, Rebel brought his hand down hard on Declan’s ass.
“Fuck.” Declan attempted to squirm away, hadn’t expected that right after his orgasm, but he couldn’t move. He couldn’t help but count the slaps—twenty in all—and when Rebel was done, Declan’s ass stung…and he’d come again.
*
“Don’t,” Declan growled at Rebel, hours later, after several orgasms and being helped into bed. “It’s too much.”
“Never had to force you before—I don’t intend to start now,” Rebel assured him. His palms splayed across Declan’s shoulders as Declan’s nerves, shot from the stress of the last several days, plus the nightmares, bucked at the overstimulation. “I’ve got you. You might not believe that, or want it but—”
“Fuck,” Declan muttered as Rebel’s hands calmed him. The guy’s touch had done that for him since day one.
Rebel chuckled. “Not tonight—I’m not that easy.”
“Bullshit you’re not.” Still, Declan felt himself drifting as Rebel pushed him chest-first against the pillows. When Declan lay prone, Rebel continued to knead Declan’s tender flesh.
“You’re here, Dec. I’ll protect you.”
“Who’s going to protect me from you?” It slipped out before he could stop himself.
Rebel’s response was a soft kiss on his neck, almost behind his earlobe and then, “That ship sailed a year ago.”
“You left,” Declan reminded him, like that needed to be said.
“You made me,” Rebel shot back.
“We’re not doing this. Not when I’m staying at Defiance. It’s suicide. Especially because it’s a secret.”
“I don’t owe anyone an explanation of my sex life. And we’re not at Defiance right now.”
Chapter Sixteen
When Rebel woke, the storm was still raging. He glanced at the bedside clock that read six a.m. then looked to Declan beside him.
Declan slept. Like a baby.
And then the monumental-ness of what Declan had done the night before (before Rebel got him bound and in bed) struck Rebel like lightning—painful, fast and unexpected. The jolt got him up and dry heaving over the toilet.
The killing—and who got killed—weren’t the sticking points. It was what Defiance would say, because even if no one knew Declan was behind it, Rebel was sure Keller would waste no time announcing it.
Hopefully, Keller would wait until they got back to Defiance safely. The thought of another ambush made him dry heave again.
This was pushing all his secrets, forcing them closer and closer to the surface. If t
hey broke through…
Declan was behind him, handing him a washcloth, handing him water…not touching him or saying anything.
What was there to say? It was time to go back to reality. “Need to go,” he croaked.
“Not till there’s a break in the rain. Better to lie low here anyway.”
At the reminder of last night, Rebel’s throat tightened. Finally, he managed, “Need a shower,” then pushed up and into the enclosed glass space. “I’ll save you water.”
“Don’t bother. Want to smell like you for as long as possible,” Declan told him.
Rebel was caught between panic and lust…and the latter won out. Last night, he’d promised to protect Declan. Today, he’d get his shit together and do just that. “Tell me what Victor planned to accomplish with the LoV and the Nomads? If he eliminated Keller, was he taking over?”
“Fuck that. My brother wasn’t taking over shit,” Declan said. “He made stupid deals with the LoV, like getting in bed with the president’s son. Like that was really going to work out well for anyone.”
Rebel stared at him through the open glass door as the water rained down on him—and Declan watched with interest. “But Keller stood behind him.”
“Yeah, to save face. But he knows Victor got what he deserved, because if he didn’t, you know that Bishop and Mathias would be dead, no questions asked.”
“So if that’s true, what’s the deal with this debt Bishop’s paying off?”
“It’s got to be paid.”
“Hell of a payment.”
Declan sighed. “You think I’m some kind of soulless asshole. What did you do before the Chaos that made you a fucking saint, Rebel? Tell me.”
Rebel couldn’t answer that, because Declan was right. There wasn’t much of anything he did but hide the fact that he was gay, ride around earning his probie patch and generally fuck around.
“I’ve been working for my dad since I can remember. I know all his assets. Codes. Escape plans. I’ve been to the School of Keller. I’ve been kidnapped and tortured for information three times before we cut all ties on paper. And post-Chaos, it’s been easier to keep it looking like a mere business relationship.”
“But you’re not a robot,” Rebel couldn’t help but interject, because Declan wasn’t all about work. He liked to read, watch old movies. He was into pop culture when there’d been such a thing. He was cultured, but not in the way of someone who grew up learning a little bit of everything for social purposes only. No, Declan’s knowledge was much deeper and more thoughtful. He’d given Rebel books to read—his favorites, and Rebel understood him a lot more because of that.
“No, I’m not a robot. Neither’s my father. If anything, Victor was the one you don’t want in power. He had no soul,” Declan said.
Rebel tried to understand how Declan justified killing for Keller, but for Declan, it was really simply all about business. If you borrowed money or goods and you didn’t pay what you owed, you deserved what you got.
This world had harkened back to the Wild West, incorporating a lot of street justice. There were few laws enforced to keep people honest. It was more about an exchange of goods on a more personal level.
“There was never a good time to tell you,” Declan said now. “Not the first night, or the second. And then, when we kept seeing each other, I got more freaked out.”
Rebel did what he did best—he walked out of the shower and set about calming Declan the fuck down. First, hands on the man’s shoulders, a firm grip, a strong caress, and Declan stopped talking. His head fell forward a little. A sigh escaped his throat. Relief. Release.
“I’d have to go into hiding—and I’m not doing that again,” Declan said stubbornly.
“But if you don’t…”
“Know the risks, Reb. Lived them,” Declan shorthanded quietly. “Already got killed off once. I can’t reinvent again. Not with all the exposure I’ve had as one of Keller’s men.”
“So we’ll make sure no one finds out,” Rebel said firmly. Declan ran his knuckles over Rebel’s cheek unexpectedly, like he’d forgotten Rebel didn’t like to be touched. Instead of grabbing Declan’s wrist away like he usually did in situations like this, Rebel sat back, closed his eyes and leaned into the touch, almost rubbing his cheek against Declan’s fingers as Declan refused to break the moment, refused to pull his hand away. Probably because, for the first time, Rebel was finally admitting to the palpable connection between them.
Rebel knew Declan would’ve kept his hand there all night if it brought any measure of comfort to Rebel.
“I’m supposed to be comforting you,” Rebel murmured.
“You are,” Declan assured him.
“I’m not leaving, Declan, okay?”
Declan nodded, murmured something unintelligible, probably because Rebel’s hands slid over his chest, pinched his nipples as he sucked hard along the side of Declan’s neck.
“Yeah, Reb, that’s it,” Declan murmured.
“Not leaving,” Rebel repeated. “Never leaving you behind.”
It was a promise he intended on keeping.
Chapter Seventeen
Kev
Kev was finally back at Keller’s and hanging out at Carnivale after a week of lockdown at Defiance, first because of the massacre he’d encountered and then because of the storms that followed.
Before he’d left, Caspar told him and Carter that Declan and Rebel had been caught in the storms that happened just west of there. And then Caspar’d told all the MC members about the murder of Fletcher and Big C. He didn’t come right out and say that Declan was responsible, but then again he didn’t have to.
Kev heard mixed reactions in Defiance about that. Some were still convinced that Declan and Keller were going to bring the demise of the MC, while most of the others now began to see Declan in a different light.
But for Kev, he was most interested in how that girl from Keller’s knew about the ambush-turned-massacre. He couldn’t rest until he knew. What if she was in on it? What if Keller was too?
Although he liked Declan a lot, he wasn’t going to just believe shit blindly. Now, he turned to Carter and said, “Hey, I’m headed out for a while—cover for me.”
“No problem,” Carter said easily. “Want to tell me where you’re headed?” Kev hesitated, just long enough for his friend to smile and add, “You got lucky last time we were here, didn’t you?”
“Depends on how you look at it.”
“Couldn’t have been all bad if you’re going back.”
Kev just shook his head but didn’t comment. “I’m not leaving the property. I won’t be long.”
Carter didn’t press it any further, but eventually, Kev would have to come clean. Maybe because he was more intrigued by this girl—this woman—than he wanted to admit.
He’d dreamed about her this past week, her dark eyes and auburn hair cascading across his chest when she called his name, and hell, he’d dreamed of women naked after far less interaction than he’d had with her. But fuck, she’d literally saved his life, and whether or not it was some kind of odd prediction or a solid lead she’d gotten, he needed to confront that. For the sake of Defiance, at least.
It took him longer to get to her house this time, almost as if the woods surrounding it were purposely fucking with the paths to protect her. But he’d always been good with a compass and his memory guided him away from the busy compound toward her.
The partying hadn’t started up yet, so he was hoping to still catch her at home.
You don’t even know her name…
He realized that after he knocked on the door. He saw someone peek out the side window—not his girl, but another one with dark hair, although she had dark eyes as well that studied him for a long moment before shutting the curtain.
And then…nothing. He waited. Knocked again. Called out, “I know you’re in there,” because even though it was the wrong girl, he could still ask some questions.
The door finally jerked open, and
the dark-eyed girl was standing there, staring at him like he was a mirage. “Why did you come back?” she demanded. “You shouldn’t be here.”
“How did you know?”
She looked…afraid as she answered. “Just a gut feeling.”
Then she started to close the door. He put his palm out flat to stop her from closing it on him completely. “Bullshit.”
His curse seemed to snap her out of her fearful state. “Listen, go ask around Keller’s about the weird girl who knows things. You’ll get an earful, and then you can leave me the fuck alone.”
“I don’t listen to other people about shit like that—I want to hear it from you.”
She blinked, surprised. “Fine. I know things. I don’t share it a lot because I don’t want people like you coming back and demanding to know how I knew it. Because you’re skeptical. You think I might be in on the ambush…or at the very least privy to the planning of it.”
“Yes.”
“I wasn’t in on it at all. I just knew about it.”
“Just like that—out of thin air.”
“Right—just like that,” she echoed.
“So you’re like, psychic or something?”
“Or something,” she muttered.
“You’re just going to repeat everything I say?”
“You seem to know an awful lot.” She shrugged. “Not sure what you want from me.”
Kev didn’t know either, except he’d never been drawn to anyone the way he was her. “I’ve been dreaming about you,” he blurted out.
She crossed her arms and backed up. “Well, don’t do that anymore.”
“Like I can stop dreams,” he scoffed.
“You could try.”
“Maybe I don’t want to,” he pointed out. “Maybe they’re some of the best dreams I’ve had since the motherfucking Chaos. And maybe I’m fucking nuts but hell, if you can’t be fucked up now…”
He shrugged.
She slammed the door.
Smooth, Kev. Really fucking smooth.
Temperance (Defiance #4) Page 11
