SAVING REBEL: Renegade Rebels Motorcycle Club Page 2

  At the time, sure I was pissed. I was eighteen and I thought I knew everything. I took the judge’s denial as a slap to the face, but inside I was happy that someone else had made the decision.

  I was eighteen fucking years old. I had my whole life to live, and to be honest, the last thing I wanted was some preteen girl strapping me down to a nine to five and a house payment. I didn’t know jack shit about raising a teenager, considering I was still one myself.

  The judge had been right. It took me a long time to come to terms with that, but I did.

  And now here she was, little Rebel all grown up and sticking her tongue down Mason’s throat.

  I couldn’t fucking believe my eyes.

  “What the fuck are you doing here, Rebel?”

  I wanted to hug her and slap both of them all at the same time, and I was fighting to control my emotions. I knew if I took one step towards Mason, my fist would collide with his jaw.

  To give him credit, he did look completely shocked and put his cock away faster than a one-legged man in a butt-kickin’ competition.

  “I came to live with you, Harley.” Rebel walked over to me, tying the top of her bikini top along the way. “I’m nineteen now.”

  “Live with me?” My jaw dropped before I started laughing.

  Rebel didn’t appreciate my laughter and her bottom lip jutted out in a familiar pout. Not much had changed, I could see.

  “No fucking way.”

  “But Harley—,”

  “NO!” I interrupted, before she could even start in on me. The last thing I needed was Rebel hanging around the clubhouse and getting in the way of business.

  She stomped her boot on the cement, an exasperated sigh escaping her lips.

  “Well, fuck, can I at least get a hug from my big brother?”

  Her blue eyes were exactly like mine, and exactly like our mother’s. Memories began flooding my mind as I stared down at her.

  “Yeah, sure…” I closed the distance between us, pulling her tiny body into my arms and smelling whiskey…and Mason…on her.

  I pulled away quickly before she could get too comfortable.

  “Thanks. So, can I hang out for a little while? I don’t have to live with you, right now.”

  “Where do you live, Rebel? What happened to the Cunninghams?” I knew she had been fostered by the same family all these years.

  “Live? Oh, you know…here and there. I left the Fuckingham’s on my eighteenth birthday. I don’t know how they let people like that foster children. It’s fucked up. They were awful, Harley!” Her eyes clouded over with tears as she looked at me. “I’ve been mostly hanging out on Missy’s couch for the last year. She lives in her grandma’s old house in Oak Cliff. You remember Missy, don’t you?”

  “Yeah, I think so. I’m sorry, Rebel.” I felt like shit, but I tried to remind myself there was nothing I could do. “I would have taken you if the judge had let me.”

  “I know, Harley, I know.” She wiped the tears from the corner of her eye and straightened her posture. She looked vulnerable for a moment, but she quickly regained a thick armor that I had seen a million times before. Even before our parents were sent away, Rebel had a hard side to her. She didn’t take shit from anyone, and it surprised me to see how her spirit had been broken, even if she only let it show for a second.

  “Alright,” I relented, “come inside and I’ll get you a beer.”

  “Whiskey,” she demanded and I cocked an eyebrow at her. “Please?”

  I shook my head, knowing it wasn’t going to be easy getting rid of her this time.

  “Alright, alright…”

  I glared over at Mason, who had been standing there with a bewildered look on his face the whole time.

  “Put your cock away, Romeo, and join us.”

  “Fuck…” he replied under his breath as he followed us through the door.

  ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼

  Despite the look on Harley’s face when he walked in on us, I wouldn’t have traded those moments with Mason for anything.

  His muscular body was a far cry from Jimmy’s, and for the first time, it felt like I had been with a real man.

  Of my own choosing, that is. Mr. Fuckingham didn’t count.

  What kind of real man took advantage of his foster child? He was a scumbag piece of shit, and I was so glad to be out from under his roof.

  I had left a note when I left. I told Mrs. Fuckingham all about her disgusting husband, even though I had told her before, but she never believed me. Accused me of lying and instead of doing anything about it, she just beat me harder when she’d catch me spending time with Jimmy, or hell, even when she’d catch me on the phone with him. They had a strict ‘no-boys’ policy for their foster daughter, and the irony was not lost on me that the vile things going on behind closed doors in that house were a stark contrast to the public face they tried to show the world.

  I knew the note wouldn’t do any good, but I left it for my own well-being. I wrote it all out - every vile and disgusting act - just to cleanse myself of it.

  Of course, it didn’t work. But whatever. I could deal with the memories now. A bottle of whiskey and a few pills helped along the way.

  But Mason? I’d been crushing on him since I was twelve. We all grew up together, and I watched them from the sidelines as they worked on bikes with our fathers. They were always trying to shoo me away, the annoying sister.

  Harley was Harley, but Mason had always been the masculine one. He hit puberty first, his voice changing and hair growing on his face before anyone else in their class. By the time he and Harley were eighteen, right before the big bust, Mason looked like he was twenty-five going on forty.

  Once I figured out how things worked between boys and girls, I had many the girlish fantasy of k-i-s-s-i-n-g Mason behind the clubhouse. He didn’t give me a lick of his time or attention, although he was nice when he had to be.

  But when I walked up on him today? Holy shit.

  At first I didn’t know it was him. I had no idea if he would be there or not when I decided to visit Harley. But when he turned around, and I saw it was him? My heart began racing like a winning thoroughbred that just ran a mile.

  Oh, yes, he was definitely a real man.

  He was raw masculinity, wrapped up in a huge, delicious package of thick, long black hair, leather and denim. And he tasted like whiskey.

  What more could a girl want?

  When I saw that he didn’t recognize me, I couldn’t help but play with him a little. I figured he would eventually recognize my voice or something, but he had no clue who I was, and he was really taking the bait when I teased him. I didn’t think he’d really bend me over his bike, but when he did, I couldn’t have been happier.

  And now that I had a taste of him, I knew I was going to need a much bigger bite.

  ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼

  Holy fuck. I was mortified!

  I couldn’t believe I had just fucked my best friend’s sister — and Rebel, at that!

  Watching her sitting at the table with Harley and me, drinking her whiskey straight from the bottle, those pink lips wrapping around it like a vise and batting those fuck-me baby blues at me — I was wound up like a snake about to strike.

  And I felt like a complete fool.

  I should have recognized her! Hell, I had known her all her life.

  And yet she never looked like this before. Last time I saw her, she was just a kid. Now, she was a grown fucking woman with the best set of tits this side of the Trinity River.

  Not only did I feel like a fool, but I was pissed. And turned on. And way fucking pissed. My cock was betraying me, still raging hard in my jeans and there’s nothing like being angry and horny at the same time.

  How dare she take advantage of me! What kind of scheming hussy does something like that? Rebel had always been a handful, and I knew that.

  I knew it when she was five and she got busted for throwing apples at the cars speeding down Harry Hines Boulevard.
I knew it when she was eleven and she took all of her Barbie and Ken dolls and super-glued them to all the bikes in the shop, saying they needed hood ornaments to be prettier.

  Her dad had been so pissed. And yet, she had him wrapped around her finger so tightly, he promptly forgave her. He found her constant antics amusing, which is why her gave her that nickname early on.

  Rebel. She was almost like an informal mascot for the Renegade Rebels Motorcycle Club. And she loved every minute of it.

  Being the only daughter of the MC president and his wife gave you a special place at the table, so to speak. Everyone watched out for her, and everyone spoiled her. And she took full advantage of the privileges.

  Rebel always got what Rebel wanted.

  And by the look she was giving me across the table, what she wanted this time was me.

  Her eyes twinkled as she smiled, licking her lips after pulling the bottle from them.

  It was going to take all my strength to resist her devilish temptation, but I knew if I didn’t, Harley would kill me.

  And that thought alone was enough to make my cock wither up.

  ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼

  “Of course you can’t join the club, are you out of your mind, Rebel?”

  “No, Harley, I’m not. Dad almost let Mom join.”

  “Yeah, well, I’m not Dad, am I?”

  Pain and disappointment crossed her face as she pleaded with me.

  “Just tell me why not then!” She was pouting, tears springing to her eyes. I groaned inwardly, the last thing I wanted to do today was sit across from my little sister and make her cry.

  “Because you’re a girl, Rebel! You’re barely eighteeen—.”

  “I’m NINEteen, Harley!” She interrupted, her voice so high-pitched it hurt my ears.

  “Okay, okay, whatever. You are still way too fucking young. And you know the rule - no women allowed!”

  “Yeah, well, you’re the president, you can change the rules anytime you like.”

  “No, I can’t. You know we’d have to take a vote, and no member in his right mind is going to agree to having a woman in the club. So stop fucking asking me!”

  She was pissing me off and my sympathy for her was running low.

  “Now, let’s figure out another plan for you. You can still stay at Missy’s right? Do you have a job?”

  “No, I don’t. I’ve been looking and looking. I was waiting tables for a while at a diner on Greenville, but they fired me.”

  If her bottom lip got any bigger, it was going to fall off her face.

  “Look, stop pouting, Rebel! I don’t know what gave you the idea I would let you join the club, so I refuse to feel like shit because you were so misguided. Keep looking for a job, and go back to Missy’s. It sounds like you’re on the right track.” I reached in my back pocket, pulled a wad of cash out of my wallet and handed it to her.

  She took it and tucked it inside her bikini top.

  “And for fuck’s sake, buy some fucking clothes.”

  “Harley, I wish you’d reconsider. Let me just hang out for a while. I could help out here. I could clean the shop, or run errands or —.”

  “Or what? Stick around and keep fucking Mason?”

  She looked like I had slapped her across the face. Closing her mouth slowly, her bottom lip quivered and tears fell down her cheeks as she stood up and headed straight for the door without another word.

  We watched her go, and Mason punched my arm.

  “Dude. Come on. Let her stay. I can control myself.”

  “Fuck you, Mason.” I said, my anger at him growing as I stood up and walked into my office, slamming the door behind me.

  ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼

  I sat at the bus stop on Harry Hines Boulevard, right outside the clubhouse, waiting for the next bus to Oak Cliff.

  I had lied when I said I was staying with Missy. When I first got back to Dallas, I had gone looking for her, but couldn’t find her. I had spent a year on the streets, because I wanted to try to make it on my own, without resorting to begging Harley for help.

  I had failed miserably, and the streets were beyond brutal. Almost as brutal as the foster home, but not quite. I could live with the scary nights under the bridge a lot easier than I could with Mr. Fuckingham coming into my room at night.

  Anything was better than that.

  But I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t tired of it. I had tried repeatedly to find jobs, but I had no experience and nobody wanted to hire a homeless nineteen year-old girl. If it hadn’t been for begging people for change, I wouldn’t have been able to feed myself. And some days, even that didn’t work.

  I was hungry, burnt-out and exhausted. Sleeping on the concrete ground hurt like hell, and being hungry all the time was excruciating. I had my pride, but even that was running out fast.

  Which is why I found myself here today, sitting outside of Harley’s clubhouse, my last resort. And even he had refused to help me.

  I was grateful for the cash, but it sure would have been nice to have a bed for a night.

  I would have to come up with a new plan. In the meantime, I was going to sit here and wait for the bus, and do my best not to think about the fire in Mason’s eyes as he dropped that whiskey bottle on the ground and kissed me.

  His lips had been red-hot and soft, which was not what I expected at all. I don’t know what I expected, really. I really had just shown up to talk to Harley, but Mason was standing there, towering over me like a sex god with those damned green eyes of his — and I just couldn’t help myself.

  I wished I had done it differently now, though. Maybe if Harley hadn’t walked in on us, he wouldn’t have thrown such a hissy fit and he would have let me stay.

  Instead, I managed to show him that I was just as much trouble as I always was.

  I just couldn’t seem to make anything work. Being an adult was much fucking harder than anyone ever made it seem.

  I took a deep breath, reminded myself once again that where I was was a million times better than where I came from and wiped the tears from my cheeks.

  Harley could go fuck himself.

  I didn’t need him.

  “Hey.”

  I jumped at his voice, my head so lost in my own depressing thoughts that I didn’t hear Mason come up behind me.

  He sat down next to me, and I could smell myself on him. My body trembled from being this close to him again, and my breath caught in my throat. Damn it, why did he have this effect on me? It was exciting and annoying all at the same time.

  The last thing I needed was to be crushing on my brother’s best friend like a school girl. I needed to get my shit together, find a place to live and a job and then maybe I could think about finding someone to spend some time with.

  But definitely not Mason. Never, ever Mason.

  “I wish you had told me it was you,” he said, so quietly I almost couldn’t hear him over the traffic flying by in front of the bus stop.

  “Sorry,” I replied. “You’re right, I should have.”

  “Yeah…” His eyes searched mine, and I suddenly felt like a shy kid again. “So do you want a ride to Missy’s?”

  “Oh….well, thanks for the offer. I…um…”

  “It’s no trouble. Just don’t tell Harley,” he winked at me, his grin spreading across his face, his eyes twinkling. God, he was so fucking handsome. Why couldn’t Harley’s best friend be ugly? Or fat? Or scarred or deformed in some way that would make this whole thing a lot easier to resist?

  “No, that’s not it.” I wasn’t sure if I should tell him the truth or not. I had only said I was staying at Missy’s so Harley wouldn’t be worried, and now I wished I had never said it at all. Maybe if I hadn’t, he would have let me stay.

  “Then what is it? Do you need a ride somewhere else?” Mason’s eyes were going to be the end of me. I looked away, his gentleness just too much for me to take.

  “Well…I don’t exactly have anywhere to go.” There, I said it. He could tell Har
ley if he wanted, I didn’t give a shit.

  “What about Missy?”

  “I lied.”

  “Oh. I see,” he replied, staring at me with curiosity. “Where have you been staying then?”

  “Oh, you know…here and there.”

  “No, I don’t know, Rebel.” The look on his face was a mixture of concern and irritation. “Where have you been staying? How long have you been back in Dallas?”

  “A year. I left on my eighteenth birthday. I couldn’t get away fast enough, and every time I ran away, they just sent me back. Once I was legal, I left. That was a year ago last week.”

  “So you’ve been here for a year without a place to live?”

  “Pretty much.” I jutted my chin up, determined not to let him make me feel bad about myself. “But I can handle it.”

  He scoffed at that.

  “Is that so? Your begging to join the club earlier makes me believe you’re lying again. You have a hard time telling the truth, huh, Rebel?”

  Mason had been around through my childhood and all the way through the humiliation of puberty, laughing and making fun of my antics right along with the rest of my family. I wasn’t exactly known for my honesty.

  I sulked next to him, hating how easily he could make me feel like an awkward, fucked-up adolescent.

  “The truth is overrated,” I mumbled under my breath.

  “Listen, Harley’s just mad because he caught us…um…kissing. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind if you stay with him, but you can forget about ever actually joining the club. Family or not, you’re still a girl…um, woman, I mean.” His eyes raked across my body, and I glanced down to see his cock rising in his pants.

  My nipples hardened as I recalled the feel of him thrusting into me from behind earlier. These feelings were much more enjoyable than feeling like a kid next to him.

  “Look, Rebel, Harley hasn’t seen you since you were a little kid. He still sees you that way, and he will until you show him something different.” His cock grew harder in his pants as he continued, his eyes meeting mine as he pulled them away from my breasts. “I already had a chance to see you as…something different…so it’s already different for me.”