Chapter 3: Rebel Revenge: Chapter 3

At the heavy footsteps outside and the knock on my door, the panic attack stole over me so quickly I didn’t even see it coming. One minute I was fine, the next there was no air in my lungs, leaving them raw and aching while I simultaneously gasped and tried to shove my fist in my mouth so I wouldn’t make a noise. I buried under the blankets, trembling but frozen in place, silently begging them to go away.

They’d held me down. Taken turns forcing themselves on me. I hadn’t had a gun then, and no way of protecting myself. The one clutched in my fingers now didn’t seem like enough.

“Rebel. It’s me.”

In an instant, the panic subsided.

“Fang…I mean.”

His familiar voice was a balm on my ragged, nervous edges. One by one, each muscle in my body relaxed into my lumpy mattress, and I unclenched my grip on the gun.

I wanted to run to the door, throw it open, and wrap myself in the massive man who had always curled my toes. With his huge, thick body and constant scowl, he’d never scared me. Quite the opposite. His ice-blue gaze that followed me around rooms heated my blood and sent tingles to places I really enjoyed.

Until he’d walked out of the bar that night, unknowingly leaving me with Caleb and his pack of wolves.

It was unfair for me to blame him. If he’d known what would happen, there was no doubt in my mind he would have stayed. Hell, he probably would have killed Caleb on the spot. But no matter how I tried to get up off the bed and let him in, I couldn’t. My legs wouldn’t move. Not until his footsteps went down the stairs.

The scent of chicken soup forced my stomach into a growl of hunger. I hadn’t eaten in days. The carved-out hollow of my belly twisted in pain, and my weak limbs begged for the chance of just a tiny sip.

It smelled so freaking good.

I dragged myself from the bed and tiptoed to the door, pressing up to look out through the peephole.

His ice-blue gaze stared back at me. A flight of stairs down, but waiting on the landing, watching to see if I took his gift.

This close, it was all I could smell. My legs wobbled, and I dropped to my knees, knowing I desperately needed that food before I fainted.

I reached up and unlocked the door, then opened it with agonizing slowness, cringing, just waiting for him to slam his way inside and steal what he wanted, just the way Caleb and his friends had.

It didn’t come.

Of course it didn’t. Because Fang wasn’t Caleb. He didn’t hurt me. He left sex club parties at midnight and brought me soup. That urge to run to him hit me again, so hard and fast I almost did it.

But my face… I was still black and blue. If I showed Fang, he’d want to know who did it.

Then he’d kill them. I had no doubts the man was capable of it. You didn’t get scars like his from living a life on the straight and narrow.

Nobody was killing Caleb and his friends.

Nobody but me.

I reached a hand around the door, almost weeping with relief when my fingers snagged on the plastic take-out bag. I dragged it inside, leaning back on the door to close it and then quickly turning the locks.

I cracked open the lid, taking only a second to inhale the richly scented steam, before putting the entire thing to my lips and swallowing.

It slid down my throat so perfectly warm and tasty, my stomach relaxing instantly as food hit it for the first time in days. I would make myself sick on this, I was sure of it, but I took a few more long swallows, just basking in how good it tasted.

My phone buzzed with an incoming text.

I put Fang’s soup down on the floor beside me and reread the message, dread filling me with every word.

It was exactly why I hadn’t wanted to ask him. Why I should have just told my mom no.

Putting a woman on the back of your bike was a sacred act in Fang’s MC. My bestie, Bliss, had told me all about it, when she’d fallen for the club prez. It would be different for my mom and new stepdaddy. It was clear they weren’t anyone’s girl.

But me and Fang…that was a different kettle of fish altogether.

One that might have made me all warm and cozy just a few days earlier, if it hadn’t sent me running for the hills in terror over making a commitment.

But the point was moot now. I hadn’t even been able to open the door for him. Some traumatized part of me rejected the idea of ever letting a man touch me again.

You asked for this.

You’ve been flirting with me for weeks.

You like it rough like this? Yeah, you do, whore.

It wasn’t fair of me to taint Fang with the same brush. He had no idea what he’d done. No idea that just him walking out had sent me careening down a path that would change who I was at my very core. None of it was his fault. All of it mine.

It didn’t change anything.

It didn’t change he was always going to be linked to that night in my head.

With a belly full of warm soup, I took my chocolate bar back to bed and ate it slowly, savoring every mouthful. Nothing had ever been so sweet.

Except maybe the man who’d given it to me.

Ifinally got dressed on Friday evening, but only because I knew my mom would be devastated if I failed to show up for the fancy dinner she’d planned so I could meet Bart before the ceremony. She’d even called this morning to double-check I was coming.

The conversation had left me smiling. I’d never heard her sound quite so in love. Normally it was all infatuation with her. She liked guys with abs and chiseled jaws and bank accounts with numbers bigger than I even knew were possible.

But with Bart, she didn’t mention any of those things. She gushed about how smart he was. How he’d picked her flowers every day for the last week. How she’d had the best night of her life just watching a movie with him. She’d been shocked it hadn’t led to sex and had marveled over how good just cuddling had felt.

I’d heard my mother declare herself in love many a time. But when she said it about Bart, something deep inside me recognized she finally knew what that meant.

For that reason, I wanted to meet the man.

And hell, I couldn’t feel any worse than I already did, so maybe getting out of the house would help.

I put on a cute black dress, one of the tamest ones I owned. Bart had booked a fancy hotel room for the night, so I didn’t have to travel from Saint View in the morning for the ceremony, and we were eating in their posh restaurant. So booty shorts and a barely there T-shirt weren’t going to cut it.

I didn’t want anyone staring at me. Especially not men. The more understated my dress, the better. I covered up the healing scratches and scrapes on my arms with a cardigan, grateful for the colder weather. Black, opaque stockings disguised the marks on my legs. I studied my reflection in my full-length mirror and decided if anyone asked why I looked like I was about to go to a funeral, I would just say I was channeling my inner Wednesday Addams.

My face was more problematic. But at least the swelling had gone down. So all that was left to do was gingerly dab a thick foundation on top of the bruising around my cheeks and eyes.

“Motherfucking donkey balls,” I muttered, blinking fast to keep tears at bay. “Big, fat, hairy donkey balls.” Blending on top of tender, injured skin was worse than first-day period pain.

I got through the rest of my routine by imagining kicking Caleb in the face and following it up with a nice stab from the pointy end of a makeup brush.

When I was done, I studied my handiwork from every angle, checking and double-checking nothing showed through. It was sweet. I’d clearly missed my calling as a makeup artist.

I used a female-only ride-sharing app to get myself and an overnight bag into the city, too nervous to just use an Uber for fear a man would pick me up and I’d freak out. The trip went quickly with the driver mindlessly chatting and me staring out the window barely responding. Then we were parking in front of the Grand Metro Hotel, and she was telling me to have a good night.

I got out gingerly, pulling my cardigan a little tighter around me and lowering my gaze to watch where I walked. It wasn’t my usual style, but I couldn’t strut in like I normally would have, wide smile for everyone in the room and gaze searching for anyone up for a good time.

The interior of the restaurant was a quiet buzz of low conversation, dim mood lighting, and soft jazz music. The heavy door closed behind me, blocking out the hustle and bustle of the drop-off zone and the high traffic reception area, turning the restaurant intimate and cozy.

I hesitated, waiting for the hostess to notice me. She didn’t. I had to clear my throat quietly for her to look up.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t see you there.”

It was only then I realized how much I’d really succeeded in turning myself into a dormouse. Normally I drew stares without even trying. I wasn’t tall like Fang who commanded attention with the pure size of him. Nor was I particularly pretty, though I was vain enough to admit I wasn’t ugly either. I would have once proudly announced I was a ten, despite the fact I didn’t have long legs and big tits.

But that was because I’d believed it. I’d been confident in who I was, and people responded to that. I’d walked into rooms like I owned them. I was the girl who would stroll right up to a guy she found attractive and tell him she was his for the night.

I’d oozed confidence.

Now I had none. Not anymore.

They’d stolen more from me than they would ever know.

The woman stared at me, waiting for me to respond to a question I hadn’t heard.

She raised an eyebrow. “I asked if you had a reservation?”

I cleared my throat. “Oh, sorry. Um, maybe? I’m meeting my mom and her fiancé here. Her name is Miranda. His is Bart.”

She ran her fingernail down a sheet of paper on her desk. “Nothing by those names. Most people book under their last name, though.”

If Mom had mentioned Bart’s, I couldn’t remember it, so I gave ours instead. “Kemp?”

The woman shook her head. “Sorry.”

It had to be under Bart’s name then. “They should be here any minute. Could I just wait at the bar?”

The woman shrugged. “Sure.”

I thanked her and weaved my way through the tables of people, to a large circular-shaped bar in the middle of the room. People sat around it on stools, waiting on their tables to be ready or for other members of their parties to arrive. Bartenders moved around the inner circle, serving drinks in all directions.

I dropped my bag at my feet, scooted up onto a stool, and asked the bartender for a vodka with cranberry juice. He placed it in front of me a moment later, and I sat sipping my drink, one eye on the door, waiting for my mom to appear.

A family of four came in and were seated immediately with a bored look from the hostess. I glanced over again when the door opened once more, but it wasn’t my cute mother on the arm of a rich businessman.

The hostess perked right up though, and it was obvious why. The man walking through the door was as blacked out as I was. Black motorcycle boots. Black jeans and tee. A leather jacket that was as dark as night, apart from the metal accents that glittered like stars on his broad chest. He had a helmet beneath one arm, and he ran his fingers through his hair, straightening it.

The hostess flashed him a flirty grin she most definitely had not used on me or the family sitting at table four. Interestingly, he flirted back, leaning in to twist a curl of the hostess’s hair away from her face.

What an ass. I almost hoped his date would turn up right now, just for the excitement it would cause.

But no leggy blonde, or any other woman followed him in, and eventually, the hostess stopped panting all over him and pointed at the bar.

I rolled my eyes as he leaned across her podium, plucked the pen from her fingers, and wrote something down on her pad of paper. Surely his phone number.

He took the same path through the tables that I had, brushing by me to get to the empty seat next to me. I stiffened at being so close to him and instinctively shifted my stool in the opposite direction. I busied myself with my drink to try to keep my panic at bay. This was a public area. Nothing was going to happen here in front of a hundred people. Mom would be here any minute. There was no need to freak out and cause a scene.

“Do I smell?”

I glanced around, not sure if he was talking to me, but nobody else was paying him any attention. “Sorry?” I stuttered.

“Reek? Stink? Odor of road?”

I crinkled my nose at him. “Odor of road? What exactly does that smell like?”

He grinned. “Squashed bugs and motor oil, maybe?”

Actually, he smelled vaguely of cologne. One I really liked and could pick out on men just walking past them at the mall because it was that distinctive. I kinda wanted to take a deep inhale. “You smell fine.”

“Why are you scuttling down the bar like a scared cockroach then?”

I blinked, confused as to why he was talking to me, let alone insulting me. “Did you just call me a cockroach?”

He shrugged. “You’re small, quick, startled easily, and all in black. Seemed fitting. Who died by the way?”

“Your manners, perhaps?” The quip was out before I really even had time to consider how my mouth had gotten me in trouble before.

He chuckled and motioned for the bartender to pour him a drink. Whiskey on the rocks. Of course. How typical. Too macho for something with fruit, I was sure.

I jerked my stool away again, a whole lot less subtly than the first time I’d done it.

Suddenly I was sliding back to where I’d started, moved along by his hand on my seat, dragging it back toward him.

“Where you going, Roach?”

I gaped at him, flabbergasted by his confidence, then shook my head. “I’m too old for this shit.”

“What?” he asked innocently, like he didn’t still have his hand resting on the back of my chair.

I pointedly stared at it, and when he didn’t move, I helpfully lifted it with two fingers, like it was dirty and I didn’t want to touch it. “Keep those on your own chair. And call me roach again. I dare you.”

He chuckled under his breath. “Would you prefer cock…cock-roach…”

I raised an eyebrow. “Actually, I think cock is already taken by you, cock…cock-face. If you don’t mind, I liked my chair better over here.” I jerked it back to where it had been.

Fuck me. I hated men. Especially the attractive ones who thought schoolyard taunts were conversation.

I looked at my phone. Ten past eight. I’d been late for our seven-thirty meal, but Mom was now forty minutes late. That warranted a text message. I pulled my phone out of my purse.

My phone rang a moment later, Mom’s name flashing up on the screen. I snatched it up quickly when the cock on the seat beside me darted a peek at it. “Do you mind?” I snapped at him, hitting the green button. “Where are you guys?”

There was a muffled laugh from the other end before Mom’s voice came through again. “Oh, honey, I’m so sorry. We completely lost track of time.”

I looked at the ceiling in exasperation. Of course she did. Because she was flaky and immature as ever and had probably expected me to call to remind her about a dinner she’d invited me to. I took a deep breath and tried to calm myself. “Okay, well, are you coming now?”

She giggled down the line. “Uh, about that. Bart took a Viagra because I wanted to try this whole tantric sex thing, and now we kinda just gotta ride it out.” She laughed hysterically. “Ride it out! I sure am!”

I screwed up my face in revulsion. “Ugh, Mom. Too much information. You just crossed a hard line.”

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I know. I swear, Belly, we didn’t mean for this to happen. I thought it would have gone down hours ago. I can’t just leave him like this. I’ve been trying everything I can think of to get it to…you know.”

I pinched the space between my eyebrows, trying hard not to imagine what they were doing in that very moment to get Bart’s little problem under control. “Okay, okay. Never mind! You do what you gotta do. I’ll see you tomorrow, I guess.”

“You will! Because I’m getting married!”

I smiled, never able to stay mad at her for long because she was like an impulsive child. Of course she managed to give her fiancé a never-ending stiffy just hours before their wedding. I didn’t even know why I was surprised. “Go enjoy yourselves. See you tomorrow.”

“Wait! Wait! Belly, I forgot to tell you something. There’s a surprise for you at the restaurant.”

Unless it was a credit card to pay my drink bill, I wasn’t sure I really needed a surprise right now. Especially because I was pretty sure Cockface next to me was listening to every word. I turned around, and sure enough, he was watching me.

I glared at him.

He smirked back.

Ugh. Exactly why I hated attractive men. The ability to smirk should be removed from their repertoire. “What is it?” I asked Mom. “Is it with the hostess?”

She laughed. “No, no. It’s not gift wrapped. Bart’s son is there, and he’s so cute, Bel! You two would be the most adorable couple.”

I blinked at the cock next to me in horror. “No.”

“Yes! Bart said he’d be wearing a suit, and he has glasses. A little dorky, but in a cute kind of way…”

I breathed a sigh of relief. Definitely not this guy then, because nothing about Cockface was dorky in any sort of way. But there was a guy drinking alone across the other side of the bar who could have stepped right out of an accounting magazine. If I squinted real hard, he might have been cute. But it was a long shot. To be fair, Mom and I had never had similar taste in men. Which was probably a good thing, considering how close we were in age. It would have been very easy to steal each other’s guys if we’d had even remotely similar attractions.

“Do you see him?”

“Yeah, I see him. And now I’m leaving. We can meet tomorrow at the wedding. PS—Thanks for telling me I had a new stepbrother. Info that could have been shared well before right now.”

“Oh, don’t be mad! I just wanted to surprise you because he’s so cute. Go say hi, Bel. Please? For me?”

“I’m going to kill you for this,” I muttered, getting down off the stool. “Truly, you’re the worst.”

“You love me! And you’ll love him too, I’m sure!”

I groaned because I did love her. I ended the call and put my head in my hands.

“Family drama?” Cockface asked.

I glared at him. “Do you always eavesdrop on other people’s conversations?”

“Do you always speak so loudly that the entire bar can hear your every word? Nothing was stopping you from walking outside, you know. I mean, now whose manners are dead?”

I rolled my eyes.

He laughed. “You’re cute when you do that.”

I froze. “No, I’m not.”

I was doing it again. Drawing attention to myself. Specifically, male attention. Exactly what I was supposed to not be doing.

I got off the seat woodenly, clutching my purse and bag with one hand, and forced myself to walk around to the other side of the bar where my new stepbrother was nursing a watery cocktail. At least he wasn’t too alpha male for fruit. “Hey. I’m Rebel.”

He glanced over at me, his eyes widening. “Uh, hi. Mathew.”

He stuck his hand out, and I tried not to look at Cockface smirking at me from across the bar. I twisted so I couldn’t see him as easily and tried to focus on my new brother. I’d never had a sibling. Though I imagined this wouldn’t be slumber parties or a lifelong bond, it might be nice to at least have a friend to complain about our parents with.

I tried not to shrink away when his fingers touched mine, but it took everything in me to return his handshake.

But then he just stared awkwardly at me, and the silence drew out.

“So, uh, parents, huh?” I forced a laugh.

He cocked his head at me. “Parents?”

“Yeah.”

He nodded. “Annoying?”

“To say the least.”

I drummed my fingers on the countertop, feeling more and more anxious with every moment I sat next to him. With too much silence between us, all I could think about was how my skin itched at being this close to a man. How I wanted to dig my fingernails in and scratch until my skin bled.

I got down off my stool and picked up my things. “You know what? We don’t need to be besties. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He opened his mouth to respond, but I was already hurrying away, wishing I’d had more than just the one drink.

Cockface leaned back on his stool, fingers brushing my arm. “On the run again, Roach?”

“Just trying to be anywhere you aren’t, Cock.”

He saluted me with a grin, and as I rounded the corner, I found a tiny smile on my face too.

As well as the realization that when Cockface had touched me, I hadn’t wanted to burn.