Vicious Rebel (82 Street Vandals)

by Heather Long

  I flinched back, and Kestrel whirled on him. “What the fuck, Rome?”

  “Don’t call her princess,” Rome ordered the man now groaning on the ground and clutching at his face. Blood spurted from his nose and soaked his shirt. Glaring around the huge room, Rome pinned every single person in place.

  “Do you understand?”

  One by one, mutters of assent rippled across the whole warehouse.

  “Make sure everyone understands,” Rome continued, then glanced at me. Fire seemed to blaze in those eyes, and my pussy clenched, even as heat rushed through me. He’d done that for me. Because I hated that name.

  Couldn’t stand it.

  ‘Thank you,’ I mouthed, and he gave me a single nod.

  Kestrel stared down at JD, then at Rome and finally at me. “Let’s go, kids, before we end up having to take one of these assholes to the hospital.” But he didn’t follow us to his car immediately, instead, he helped JD up and said something to him. The other man nodded, and I kept my eye on them as I climbed into the backseat, despite Rome’s protests. He finally settled in the passenger seat while we both waited for Kestrel.

  After Kestrel turned his back and started toward us, JD glared in our direction and then at Kestrel. The thrums of desire gave way to trepidation.

  “Don’t worry, Starling,” Rome whispered. “We’ve got this.”

  And I wanted to believe him, but that man looked pissed, largely because Rome had just punched him because of me.

  Hooking his arm behind the seat, Rome held out his hand to me. I clasped it, and he squeezed my fingers.

  “Don’t worry,” he repeated. “Think about what you want painted on the shop.”

  “What I want painted?”

  “Yes, tell me what would make you happy, and I’ll paint it.”

  Kestrel slid into the driver’s seat at that sentence and he snorted, half laughing and half glaring. “You’re a real dick.”

  I couldn’t see his face, but I damn well knew Rome smiled because it was audible in his next words. “Bigger than you.”

  It was the strangest retort, and at the same time, hilarious. When I laughed, Kestrel nodded and started the engine. I forgot about JD and the warehouse and the rats. I still hadn’t figured out how to tell them—any of them—what I needed to, and yet here they were, going out of their way to make me safe.

  More, to make me feel safe.

  And they were doing it.

  For real.

  Chapter 10

  Rome

  My neck tingled with the awareness of her presence in the backseat. She’d taken the spot directly behind mine and put her seatbelt on. While I approved of the safety, I’d rather she were able to lean up between the seats where I could see her more easily.

  As it was, I kept my gaze fixed on the side mirror for the glimpses of her it revealed. On the way to the coffee shop, Kestrel took the longer way around. For someone in a hurry, he didn’t take the easiest or fastest routes. I flexed my left hand. The punch had left my knuckles aching.

  I didn’t like JD. I didn’t like the way he looked at Starling. I really didn’t like it when he talked to her. Then he called her the one word she’d been adamant she didn’t want applied to her. If I had to break every one of the rats’ faces, they would get the message.

  Despite the traffic pattern, Kestrel navigated to the wrong lane, and I finally understood what he planned. I sighed, and he shot me a grin. I didn’t even bother to raise my hand when I flipped him off. Somehow, he’d figured out where I’d been working.

  Curling my fingers into my palm again, I cracked my knuckles. I’d finished late the night before. They didn’t want me out working on my own while the 19Ds were being problematic. Liam had crawled up my ass the last few days. Where I went, he appeared. I’d already gone through my stuff to make sure he hadn’t placed a tracker on me. Might seem like a stretch, but they made cheap tracking devices these days, and you could get them at most electronics stores.

  I wouldn’t put it past my brother. He worried too much.

  The soft inhale of breath from behind me made all the hairs on my body stand up. Kestrel must have heard it too, because he slowed enough that someone behind us blasted their horn and then flipped us off as they jerked around us in traffic.

  It had taken me a few days to finish the whole side of the old goods warehouse that once served as an exchange hub between the incoming freight trains and the port. The stockyards were right next door, though neither was used anymore. The city had been threatening to knock them down for years, but they still stood.

  The warehouse had been one of our favorite hangouts when we were younger. We’d learned a lot inside those old brick walls. Maybe my latest piece would help inspire change in this part of the neighborhood. I stared at my work. It wasn’t my best. I’d changed my mind a third of the way through and started over.

  Still, traffic all along the road had begun to slow. I glanced at the side mirror, hoping to see her reaction. The little inhale was one thing, but I wanted to know what she thought of the dancer I’d put up along the east-facing side of the building.

  “Nice, man,” Kestrel murmured, and I nodded. My brothers always appreciated the work, even if none of them really cared about the art itself. I had a feeling he cared more about this one. Kind of like I did.

  It was Starling up there. Well, the silhouette of her. I knew every single line of her body, from the dip of her waist and the faint flare out from her hips, to her thighs where taut muscle demonstrated her strength.

  She had a near perfect figure. Curves softened her muscular frame. The symmetry of her facial features beckoned to the artist in me, but so did the rest of her. When she danced, she was everything. Everything good about the world could be isolated down to the movement of her body as she conveyed a wealth of emotion and stories.

  That was why I had to change the painting. It was her up there. I knew every line of it, but I kept her in shadow. The first bits had been her eyes. Those indelible dark pools that reminded me of mysterious woods and aged whiskey all in the same breath.

  Not that I’d seen much in the way of forests outside of books and television. Within those eyes, I’d seen so much torture, pain, and loss. Putting it on the side of a building seemed like an invasion, and I’d no more put her on display than I’d let that fuck JD call her princess.

  Instead, I’d redone it, detailing the lines of her body in motion as she danced in the silks. I’d let my mind fill in the blanks for her musculature. Smooth, clear lines as she hung suspended in the air. A fragment of the beauty she could convey there for everyone to see.

  “Rome…it’s beautiful.”

  They weren’t just words coming from her. The breathiness punctuating every syllable coupled with how her voice hushed and her whole body leaned forward held me riveted. The glassiness in her eyes sent a spike of terror through me, but the shimmer of tears didn’t fall as she blinked them away.

  “This is where you’ve been the last few days?”

  The question held some element of reproach maybe. I wasn’t always good at the cues, but I could swear I heard something akin to scolding in the way she asked that question. That she’d even noticed I wasn’t around was something.

  “Yes.” The need to paint it had been burning inside of me, and as soon as I’d been able to slip away, I had. This was hell and gone from 19D territory. Not that I cared if they came after me. I could hold my own.

  Then her fingers brushed my shoulder, and I made myself sit still. I didn’t normally care for people touching me, but we’d already moved past the warehouse and the painting was gone. She dug her fingers into my shirt, and then it hit me. She was squeezing my shoulder.

  “Thank you,” she whispered in a lower voice, and I locked eyes with her in that side mirror. The moment I looked at her, the corners of her mouth lifted and the darkness in her eyes retreated. The darkness there didn’t frighten me either. I’d take it on if she needed me to.

  With
care, I covered her fingers with my own, and her smile grew. Was she happier about the painting or that she’d seen what I’d been doing?

  “I’ll take you the next time,” I promised her.

  “You’re going with her now,” Kestrel said in a kind of low growl that he usually reserved for Jasper, and I grinned. Pissing Kellan off was almost as fun as ticking off Liam.

  It was also a lot harder.

  One point for me.

  “I meant on a day for just her and me. Right now, we’re going with you.”

  “I know what you meant.” Oh, someone didn’t want me hanging out with Starling. I tilted my head to look at him. She hadn’t pulled her hand away, and when I slid a finger beneath hers, she hooked her fingers with mine. It couldn’t be comfortable for her, but she was still leaning forward, stretching the seatbelt.

  Someone was unhappy with it. “Don’t be a dick,” I reminded him. “Your name isn’t Jasper.”

  Kellan side-eyed me right up until Starling burst into laughter. The sound washed through the vehicle, warming it more than the sunshine or the heaters could.

  I grinned. It had been my words that made her smile and laugh like that. She squeezed my fingers and pulled her hand away. I missed the contact, but I was also glad for the fact I’d made her happy.

  “Asshole,” Kellan muttered under his breath, and I chuckled at the look he shot me. A snort echoed from the backseat, and Kellan glanced over his shoulder. “Keep it up, Sparrow. I’ll make you help change out spark plugs today and do oil changes.”

  “Who says I can’t do those things?” The dare in her voice had me shaking my head.

  “I guess we’re going to find out.”

  It was my turn to frown a little. If she was helping Kellan in the garage, she wouldn’t be out back with me painting. Probably his intent.

  Yes. We were going to see about that.

  “Kel,” I said as I walked into the garage. He’d had her attention for the last hour as he taught her how to pull spark plugs from the ugly old Ford in the bay.

  “She’s almost done,” he assured me, but he didn’t move from where he was half wrapped around her and guiding her hand to the different parts. They’d changed the oil, and her laughter as she’d drained the oil pan had been refreshing. Working on cars was not exciting or fun, but she seemed to be enjoying herself right down to the “smelly” overalls—her words when Kellan had insisted she pull them on.

  The only other mechanic working today was Old George, and he was half deaf in both ears and preferred to just do his work and ignore us. That he’d found a smile for Starling said a lot more about her than she realized. She made things better.

  “No,” I said shaking my head and leaning against the slender section of wall between the open bay doors. The position was on purpose, because we had company across the street, and I didn’t want them being able to track what I said or didn’t say.

  I used my phone to send him a text, and when his phone chirped, he leaned back from Starling and wiped his hands on an old towel to clean off the grease before he pulled his phone out of his pocket.

  Me: Two men. Gray LeSabre across the street. Been there for an hour.

  Rolling his head from side to side, Kellan’s expression never changed as he read the message. Despite the lack of any noticeable shifts, the air around him charged as he raked a hand through his hair and then shoved the phone back into his pocket.

  Starling held up the spark plugs with a satisfied smirk. “You owe me twenty bucks,” she informed Kellan, and I swore my eyebrows shot up. Kellan bet her money she couldn’t do something?

  “Well, so I do,” Kellan said with a nod. “Good job. Tell you what, how about I pay you later before we grab dinner?”

  “I find those terms acceptable.” There was a smudge of grease on her cheek, but her face was flushed from the exertion, despite the damp chill in the air. The interior of the garage was always cold in the winter. Didn’t ever seem to bother Kellan, but I preferred to sit around waiting where it was warmer. “So, what’s next?”

  “What’s next is you go into the office and maybe make us a pot of coffee?”

  The look on her face said she had zero interest in doing that. “The coffeemaker in there is disgusting.”

  I kept an eye on the Buick via the mirror in the corner of the garage that let Kellan see behind him when he was in there working. Our two watchers were still parked there, one of them was out of the car and standing near the corner of the chicken place smoking a cigarette. The other had his phone to his ear.

  Maybe I was being paranoid.

  Or maybe they were cops and the garage—and by default, Kellan—was under observation.

  I got cop vibes off them, or least some kind of investigator. I’d avoided too many of them back when we first started cutting out of the group home. We couldn’t afford anyone knowing where we were going.

  “There’s cleaner in the little kitchen in the back of the office.” The suggestion from Kellan earned him so much stink eye, I almost laughed. I’d thought her arrogant and spoiled when I first met her, but she was none of those things.

  I also had no idea if she even knew how to clean out a coffee pot, but it wasn’t important. I’d run down the street after we dealt with these guys and buy a whole new coffeemaker if necessary. I’d get her coffee too.

  Hands on her hips, she glanced over at me, and I offered a small smile. Looking at Kestrel, she said, “Fine, but I’m going to help Rome after. He’s been waiting.”

  I had been, but more, I’d been waiting because I wanted to spend the time with her, and if I went back there without her, I’d lose track of everything. I didn’t want to miss the time.

  “Yeah yeah, you’ve done a lot up here, Sparrow.” He tugged her ponytail gently. “Bring me a fresh cup when it’s ready?”

  She rolled her eyes like it was such an imposition, but it was hard to miss the quick flash of a smile on her lips. Being included was important to her. I filed that away. I didn’t care when they included me or not. I could go days without seeing my brothers. They knew how to reach me if they wanted something.

  “Rome,” she said, focusing on me. “Do you want coffee?”

  “Please.” Not really, but she wanted to be included. I could do that. “If you have enough.”

  “Cream and sugar?”

  “Whatever he has.” I could pretty much drink it in any format. “Surprise me.”

  Kellan only snorted a little, but she nodded and then plucked the rag from his hands to wipe her own as she headed into the office. It was warmer in there, but better, it was out of sight. Tucked into the back of the garage, it wasn’t designed for customers so much as for Kellan and the other mechanics to do the paperwork they never wanted to do. The little kitchen behind it had an ancient fridge and a microwave along with the coffeemaker.

  As soon as the door closed behind her, Kellan moved to the supply cabinet as though looking for spark plugs.

  “How do you want to play this?” he asked without turning around.

  I glanced at the mirror. One guy was still in the driver’s seat, but the guy who’d been smoking…was gone.

  Frowning, I pushed off the wall and walked out of the bay as though I just wanted to stretch. Traffic hummed past. There were customers coming and going around the chicken place despite the early hour. I studied the street, then glanced back toward Kellan.

  “We’re missing one.”

  He pulled out a wrench and then his wallet. “Stay here,” he told me and then strode out of the garage and waited for a car to pass before he jogged across the street. The guy in the Buick started the engine, even as Kellan approached. He looked for all the world like he was heading for the chicken place too.

  A split second before Kellan got to the passenger door, the car jerked away from the curb and burned rubber getting away. The scream of tires on pavement irritated me.

  We stood there, both of us, staring after the car, and then I glanced at Kellan again.
>
  Maybe I had overreacted.

  Or maybe the other guy took a walk when Starling vanished from our sight in the garage. I was already running for the office before the first crash echoed out.

  Chapter 11

  Emersyn

  Make coffee. Despite the face I made at the request, a little bit of pride sparked in my gut. I’d pulled the spark plugs myself. Granted, Kestrel had to help me adjust my grip twice and my fingers were a mess. Not that my manicure hadn’t been shot for months, but I’d broken a nail when we’d changed the oil.

  Honestly, I needed to keep them clipped anyway, and I’d been getting lazy about that. It was a good reminder. The office was tucked in the back of the garage, and it was warm in there, warmer than outside anyway. It also smelled way worse than the garage itself.

  At least out there, fresh air came in with the exhaust from passing cars and helped to dispel the competing scents of motor oil, transmission fluid, and whatever that gunk was Kestrel had to scrape off to open the box thingy with the spark plugs.

  Cars kind of stunk. Sweat. Dirt. Oil. Grit. But it was also kind of fun, and Kestrel had been super patient about showing me how to do things, even when I had no idea what I was doing.

  “No bad habits to unlearn,” he’d told me with a grin. Maybe I’d been really hard on him in the beginning. Then again, the sting of his betrayal had also eased. I’d expected a lot from a guy I’d only known a handful of days.

  I’d known him a lot longer now. The door to the kitchen was a swinging door, so I backed through it ’cause I had grease on my hands. Though to be honest, there were little bits of grease here and there, plus smudgy fingerprints. Old George, the guy who worked with Kestrel, and Kestrel both had these stained cloths in their back pockets. I’d wrinkled my nose at them the day before, but I got it now.

  The kitchen was kind of disgusting, but nowhere near as bad as the bathroom. Thankfully, I had strong thighs and calves, so my ass never touched that seat, and I could hold it for a long time if I had to.