A Rebel Love (Black Rebel Riders' MC Book 7)

by Glenna Maynard

  Shit isn’t good, but for now I just have to keep my sources close. Truth is working a contact up North for information.

  My phone buzzes with a call from an unknown number as I start kicking my boots off. I swipe the call to ignore. If it’s important they’ll leave a message. Probably some telemarketer bullshit. My dusty ass needs a shower and a bite to eat. My stomach is grumbling and rumbling.

  After a quick shower and a rummage of my fridge, I head over to the Roadhouse in search of real food. Last week’s pizza didn’t seem like a good choice. It’s late but I know one of the girls will whip me up something. Lulu is coming down the back stairs looking like a two-bit hooker in a leopard bikini top and a black leather mini.

  “Hey, hot stuff.” She trails her long red nails up one arm and down the other.

  Throwing her hand from my arm, I tell her to get her ass in the kitchen and make me a motherfuckin sandwich.

  “Sure thing, but I can satisfy your other hungers. You haven’t played with me in a while.” She pouts as I shove her towards the fridge.

  “Maybe later,” I lie. Lulu is a decent fuck, but like I said, I am sick of doing this shit.

  My phone buzzes again, I accept Truth’s call. If I don’t he’ll just keep at me until I respond.

  “Talk to me,” I answer.

  “Just wanted to let you know your big brother charity case was a no-show at the yard.”

  “Thanks.” I chew on the inside of my mouth. I know I am going to regret this shit but I can’t stop. “Hey man, do me a solid and dig up everything you can on JT Franklin. Find out everything. I want to know when he shits and where. If he sneezes, I wanna know about it. Ye feel me?”

  “Sure thing. What about the sister?” Something in Truth’s tone pisses me off when he asks about Christa. I don’t need him judging me. I don’t get on his nuts about Amy. He’s such a fucking bitch sometimes.

  “Yeah, find out who she fucks, I want to know it all.”

  “Need me to mark down her brand of tampons too?” He smarts off.

  “Fuck you, asshole. Just do it.” I hang up on him. Cocksucker.

  I go behind the bar, grab a beer, and find a table that isn’t occupied to eat at. Not in the mood for anyone’s shit tonight. Truth has done gone and pissed me the fuck off.

  Lulu brings my sandwich out. She even put a pickle on the side. “Thanks sweet thing.” I pinch her bare ass cheek and dig into my food.

  “You need anything else, let me know. I’ll be right over there.” She motions to the bar and I nod.

  I finish my sandwich and top it off with a cold beer. The Roadhouse is quiet tonight. There’s only a few patched members, some whores, and the Potentials hanging around. Grim and Rebel have gotten highly selective when bringing anyone new around. After all the shit our club has been through the past few years it’s hard to let anyone in.

  Rebel comes from the office shaking his head. He stops at my table. “Take a walk with me brother.”

  I follow him out, lighting up a smoke. After I eat, I have to have a cigarette. A smoking man needs to light one up after key moments in his day…after sex, after eating, after taking a shit, or after killing a man.

  “How was Louisville?”

  “Nothing we didn’t already know.”

  Rebel pulls out a smoke of his own and bums my lighter. I stick it back in the inner pocket of my cut once he lights up.

  We walk in silence until we get out of hearing distance from the club. “What’s up man?”

  He takes one final long drag from his Marlboro before snuffing it out in the dirt. “Pink Lips. Whatcha know about it?”

  “Low end titty bar. Been by there a time or two. Truth’s bitch, Amy, used to dance there until one of the guys roughed her up.”

  “Was Truth seeing her at the time?”

  I exhale, blowing my smoke out in little O’s. “Nah, that was before they met at Kirk's Filling Station. Why?”

  “One-Off’s ex-cunt is fucking that fat fuck who owns it, Lenny Craven. His kids been talking about how their mom ain’t taking good care of them. Lenny is keeping her cracked out. The little boy asked Emily when her and his daddy were gonna take him and Deann to live with them. One-off went to drop the kids back with Tammy and shit got ugly. Long story short he beat Lenny’s ass. Then Lenny starts making threats about how his cousin’s MC will kill him. Guess who his cousin rides for.”

  “Those skinhead bastards, the White Militia,” I answer seeing all the pieces fitting together. “Devil’s Dust dealing pricks.”

  “Fucking-A man. Shit is going to get ugly, soon. Take Kurt and Truth, get some inside eyes tomorrow. You think Amy would be willing to get her old job back?”

  “If Truth tells her to she will.”

  He nods. “Make it happen man.”

  “What about the kids?”

  “Emily has them. One-off paid the judge to give him temporary custody. Didn’t take much when the judge learned that a couple of mixed race kids were being forced to live with those KKK wannabes.”

  Damn if that ain’t some real shit. One-off is black and Tammy is whiter than white bread. Them kids take after their daddy. It ain’t really our business. One-off is a nomad; we’ve been hosting him since he moved to the area for his kids. But if he wants us to go all in for him, he needs to put Grim’s reaper on the back of his cut. He’s the last of the Lost Highwaymen and he’s not my brother, but it gives us a reason for concern.

  “Alright brother, I’ll grab Kurt and get Truth working on Amy.”

  “I’ll keep my phone on.”

  Before turning in for the night, I walk over to Truth’s and fill him in. Amy is already asleep. She has an early shift at the gas station. Truth can deal with her after her shift ends.

  “Got your information. JT runs drugs for some greaseball named Perry. Perry is Lenny’s right hand man. Seems to me if you start fucking his sister, Christa you might be able to use the kid as an insider.”

  It’s not a bad idea. If she didn’t think of me as the scum that coats the bottom of her sneakers.

  I take the information from Truth and head home to go over it. My phone buzzes again. Same unknown number. Ignore.

  Chapter 9

  Liberty

  Somewhere in Tennessee

  I’m so stupid. Tread probably changed his number ages ago. Hell, I am probably the last person he wants to hear from. I walked away from him. He could be married with a family by now. Glancing at my baby boy as he sleeps soundly in the backseat, I’m running out of options.

  I don’t have anywhere to go. I don’t even know what I would say if Tread answered my call. I mean do I just blurt out the truth, “Hey it’s me, the girl who said she couldn’t handle your lifestyle, but I need your help. Our son needs his father.” A father who knows nothing of his existence.

  I turn off the highway and find an empty lot to park in. I need to conserve gas. My cash is dwindling fast. Well the cash Baby and Striker gave me. I have money in my bank account, but if I use it, John will just come after me again. He’ll be on me quicker than a dog in heat.

  I thought he was different. I thought he could give Kyler and me a good life. One away from violence. I was such a fool. He never laid a hand on me at first, but when we couldn’t get pregnant with a child of our own, he changed.

  Said it was my fault for having a bastard before we met. Said his sperm was fine. I was the problem—Kyler was the problem. I could deal with John hurting me, but the moment he touched my son, I lost it. No man will ever hurt my baby. I’ll die first. I almost did.

  I shut the engine off and dial Tread one more time. Voicemail. “Hey this is Tread. You know the drill.” It’s him. He didn’t change his number. I sigh in relief. There may be a chance for Kyler and me to have a safe place after all.

  Happy tears flood my eyes. I can’t leave this over a message on the phone. I need to talk to him. I’ll beg if he wants. I will do anything to keep John from Kyler, including returning to a life I fled.

>   Laying my head back I laugh, feeling a bit crazy. Maybe I am. I think back on my conversation with Baby about her sister and wonder, am I trading one hell for another?

  “Momma, you crying?”

  Wiping my tears away I look back at my precious boy. His mouth is turned down in a frown.

  “Did I do somfin’ wrong?” His bottom lip split open when he fell down the stairs. His tooth went through his lip and he bit down hard on his tongue. He has a slight lisp, but the doctor who treated him said he’d heal just fine.

  “No baby, you didn’t. Momma is crying because she’s happy.”

  “O’tay.” I pull him over the console and into my lap, hugging him tight to my chest.

  “We’re gonna be just fine once we get to Kentucky Kyler. You’ll see. I promise John won’t hurt us again. I’ll never let anyone hurt you ever again.” I rub circles across his back and hum a lullaby in his ear.

  Moments later, he is already snoring softly against my chest. I should sleep too, but I am too keyed up. Hearing Tread’s voice again brings back some of the happiest times in my life.

  I can remember the way his hair would fall across his eyes and the way his dimples would steal my breath away. Kyler takes after him. I smile picturing the two of them side by side with matching grins.

  I would’ve done anything for that man.

  I remember the way his tattoos stretched when his arm muscles flexed when we were making love.

  That man knew me in ways I didn’t even know myself. I really fucked us up though. How will he ever forgive me? What if he takes one look at us and turns his back, just as I did to him?

  I don’t expect him to welcome me back with open arms or give a shit about me. All I want is to keep Kyler safe and for him to know his father. Tread is the key to both. I only hope he understands and doesn’t hold my choices against our son. Deep down I know he won’t. As hard and tough as he is, Tread is a good man, he has a big heart. I just hope there is room for Kyler in it.

  And one day, maybe, he will let me back in.

  Drag Creek

  Amy

  “NO. FUCKING. WAY. I care about you but please don’t ask me to go back there.”

  “I’m not asking darlin.” Truth caresses my bottom lip, tracing the curve of my pout with the pad of his thumb. “I need eyes behind the scenes.”

  “Yeah, but there are other girls.”

  “But none that I trust with this.”

  The weight of his words is a lot to carry. Truth needs this from me. But can I do this for him? Can I go back to the hell that nearly killed me?

  Two years ago, I thought I knew everything about the world, and the ways of men. It took Lenny Craven all of ten minutes to show me I was wrong, dead wrong.

  I thought I was special.

  I thought I was one of his favorites.

  I had thought that he would protect me.

  I was so stupid.

  Lenny handpicked me and three other girls to play host to his cousin and his friends. Before I walked into the rundown trailer, I was under the impression that we were going to dance at a bachelor party or something like one. I had done this before—taken jobs outside the club, Pink Lips, where I was working as a stripper.

  Only before, the guys weren’t Lenny’s sadistic family, and we normally went to a decent motel or nice house. This wasn’t right. I had a sick feeling in my gut, but Lenny was smiling and ushering us from the van.

  “Make me proud girls.” He smiled. Lenny isn’t an attractive man, but he has an air about him that makes you feel special and safe.

  I thought he cared about us, but we were just a means to an end. An end I was about to meet.

  The front door of the trailer swings open, banging against the tin can it opens up to.

  A dark-haired, tattooed wall of intimidation fills the entrance, only a faint glow of light escaping behind his ears. His white teeth are shining as he smiles. “Cousin. About fucking time. My boys are getting restless.” He turns his back to us showing us his ink. My eyes widen taking in the swastika covering his back. I make out the Old English lettering accompanying his sickening show of pride, they read as, WHITE MILITIA. I gulp. Looking at Lenny you’d never guess he is any relation to a racist piece of shit.

  Lenny is short and stout. He reminds me of a fat little bear. But nothing about the menacing snarl on his face right now says “sweet and cuddly”. The Lenny who has taken me in and fed and clothed me is gone.

  “Pussy’s here,” Lenny announces, shoving past whom I soon learn is named Paul, but his club calls him Lick. I later learn his nickname is Lick because he is known to collect the tongues of his enemies or anyone who generally pisses him off.

  The other girls and I follow Lenny up the rotting wooden stairs, coming face to face with six bad asses who appear to share their leader’s politics. The guy standing in front of the back window has a W and a M jail-house tattooed under his right eye. Upon further inspection, I discover they all do. They all look the same—they’re all skinheads, other than Paul. I’ve not always been the brightest girl, but even I know this is trouble. It’s bad, real bad.

  Paul looks us all over, inspecting us…grabbing our tits and squeezing, pinching our asses, smelling our crotches.

  Fear laces through me. None of the private parties have ever started like this. Normally, we go in, Lenny collects his money and then starts our music. We dance, we flirt and any cash given after Lenny is paid is ours to keep. But this time, there isn’t any music or money exchanged. Only menacing stares and uninvited groping.

  Paul, Lick, whatever he goes by decides he likes Charice best. I’m glad. Something is missing in his eyes when he looks at you. The man has no compassion or empathy, there is only death and darkness behind his green eyes.

  He pulls her in close and pushes his hand down her panties. Her eyes widen at his abrupt intrusion. I know she is scared, I am too, but what’s there to be done about it?

  He takes her down the hall without so much as a glance at the rest of his crew. ‘And then there were five,’ the thought flashes through my head, as I take in the rest of this fucked up party.

  Lenny shoves me forward, away from the safety of the door. The fattest of the group takes Brenda. She looks like a toothpick next to him. A muffled scream comes from down the hall followed by a series of thumps. I cringe inwardly. I didn’t come here to be a ragdoll. I came to dance.

  Adrenaline courses through my veins as I see the least feral of the group making his advances towards me. I smile weakly in his direction and ask, “got any music?”

  He shakes his head no.

  “Don’t bother talking to him,” another heavyset bastard speaks from the corner of the small living room. “That’s Mute, he ain’t got no tongue,” he informs me.

  Mute opens his mouth revealing a little stump of a tongue behind his teeth. I’m startled but smart enough to hide it.

  “Who needs music anyway.” I wink at him and push him down in a chair, grinding on him, hoping he is a safe choice.

  This leaves Shawna with the rest for now. They only seem interested in getting her high though.

  I think they have all but forgotten me, until one of them grabs me, forcing me to snort a line of powder from a dirty, little mirror. My eyes water as my nostrils and throat burns. Mute opens his mouth to laugh but no sound escapes. The skinny guy who forced me to snort, guides me down on my knees in front of Mute. They both undo their zippers. Lenny is watching and smiling as though none of this is wrong. As if he didn’t lie to me.

  When I look back to the door Lenny is gone. He just fucking left me! I want to chase after him and beg him to take me away from this place, but I’m frozen between these two bastards.

  Skinny guy looms over me and says, “You’re gonna suck Mute’s dick and I’m gonna fuck your ass, and you are gonna love it aren’t you. You dirty little cunt.”

  What I want to say is “go fuck yourself” but he shoves another line under my nose.

  Mute leans forw
ard in his chair and cups my chin. “Suth my dith,” he spittles out slowly. Saliva runs down the corners of his mouth. I should try to get out of here. Make up a reason to go the bathroom, but there is nowhere to run. We are in a shitty trailer, miles away from civilization.

  It’s where I stayed for two weeks being beaten and drugged until I was on the verge of death. I was the only girl to last two weeks so Paul said, since I did so good, he would deliver me back to Lenny. I think he only let me go because Mute took a liking to me.

  Mute whose name is Patrick wasn’t nearly as bad as his father. I can’t believe he cut out his child’s tongue. One of the other men told me all about how Patrick’s mom had been a biker whore named Sunshine. That sadistic bastard kept calling me by her name when he’d fuck me. Paul had her chained up in his apartment and Patrick let her escape. He lost his tongue for letting her go.

  My dickhead of a boss was shocked to get me back. He helped me shower and gave me clean clothes. Once he had fed me, he shoved a wad of cash in my hands, and pushed me into a car with Perry, the bastard, behind the wheel. But Perry, as perverted as he was, seemed like a fairytale prince compared to what I had just spent the past few weeks in company with. He drove me home and I never looked back.

  And for two years I stayed away from men. For two years vowed I’d never be used again, but then Truth happened. He sucked me into his world and I found that a part of me missed the sex and danger I endured during those two weeks. My body loved being taken by two men at once. That’s my shame.

  Truth doesn’t know any of that shit though. He only knows that I was beaten. He doesn’t know I was held by the White Militia for two weeks. No one knows what I endured and they never will if I can help it. I pretend it was another life and that I was a different girl.

  Truth

  Seeing Amy clam up over this fucker, Lenny, has my blood boiling. She told me once how he took her to a private party and some bastard beat the shit out of her. The look on her face now tells me there is a lot she is holding back. I don’t want to push her, but I need to know everything she hasn’t told me.