Rebellious (17 page)

A
UGUST 28

At two in the morning, things were starting to wind down. The stripper had left an hour ago, and everyone agreed we'd never hire Johnny Long Arm again. I shuddered. He was…interesting, to say the least. Interesting and old and thank God he hadn't gyrated in my direction. Or straddled me. Or air-humped in my face.

Yecch.

And so fucking funny. Because Jessica was clearly not happy with the choice of stripper. But then, who would enjoy having so much pale, naked, wrinkly flesh quivering in their direction? Nicole was certainly never planning
my
bachelorette party. I chugged from my water bottle. I'd reached the epically thirsty portion of the evening when all I wanted was water, ibuprofen, and more water.

“I say we go downstairs and play the tables. I'm feeling lucky.” Nicole teetered on her high heels as she walked toward the mostly barren minibar.

I don't know how she kept those killer shoes on all night. Or why. Mine had been tossed in the corner the second I realized we were staying in the room.

Jessica yawned and covered her mouth with her hand. “Can't. I promised Zag we wouldn't leave the room.”

“Then why did we have to dress up?” Nicole grabbed a tiny bottle of tequila and downed the contents in one gulp. “I look hot, dammit. It's a waste not to take this dress for a spin on the casino floor. Drinks would be on the house.”

“Drinks are always on the house.” I laughed. “That's how they win. Free booze. Drunk players. House wins.” I was tired. All I wanted to do was collapse on some stretch of sofa or bed—preferably bed—and sleep. Because I knew tomorrow was going to hurt. I don't remember the last time, if ever, I'd been this drunk. Given the way my head was already pounding, I'd had way too much.

But it'd been worth it. I'd never laughed so hard in my life. It felt good to let go and enjoy time with my girls. But now all I wanted to do was sleep. Not gamble or go guy hunting with Nicole.

“I don't care. Come on, guys. Let's go.” Nicole's attempt to rally the troops wasn't very successful. Like me, the rest of the group were dropping like stale balloons.

Brittany's snores were the biggest clue that the party was definitely over.

“I think you're outnumbered, Nic.” I grabbed a pillow and nestled up close to Brittany. She was nothing like Reb body-wise, but I'd gotten used to sleeping with someone the past few weeks.

“Fine.” She huffed. “I'm going alone, then.”

“Nic, wait.” I sat up and was just going to try to talk her out of it when someone pounded on the door. We looked at each other in confusion. All the planned guests and activities had already happened. What was going on?

Before anyone could approach the door, the pounding started again.

And didn't stop.

I sprang off the bed and followed Nicole to the door. “Wait! Look in the peephole.”

Nicole threw a disgusted look over her shoulder. “Really? What do you think I am? Ten? I know how hotel doors work.”

“Just…Ugh. Who is it?” I whispered to her.

Nicole peered into the peephole. “I don't know. All I see is a black T-shirt and a leather vest.” She stepped back and yelled at the door. “Who is it?”

“Tank. Open up!”

I elbowed Nicole out of the way and opened the door. “Is everything okay?”

Tank filled the doorway, then crowded his way into the room. “I'm here to pick you up. Reb wants to see you.”

Inexplicably, fear hollowed out my stomach as a prickling sensation swept over my scalp. “You didn't answer my question. Did something happen? Is he okay?”

“He'll be fine.” Tank crossed his arms over his chest. “Do you got a bag? Or something? Shoes would probably be good.”

“
Will
be fine? What happened? Is he hurt?”

Jessica grabbed my purse and shoved it at me. “He's still alive. That's good news. Let's get going so we can see with our own eyes what's going on.”

“Yeah. Okay.” I took three steps to the door, then stopped. “Wait. My shoes. Where'd I kick them off?”

The girls immediately searched the room for my heels. A few seconds later Brittany held them over her head triumphantly. “Got 'em! Let's go.”

“Wait, I don't have room for all you ladies in my pickup. I can take two. That's it.” Tank held the door open.

“I don't give a shit.” Nicole grabbed her bag and followed us through the door and down the hallway. “There are a ton of cabs out front. We'll hitch a ride if we need to, but we're all going.”

The wave of love I felt from my girls overwhelmed me. But so did my fear. Reb was so much bigger than life. In just a matter of weeks, he'd taken over every aspect of me until he was the first and last thing I thought about every day. We were practically living together, for crying out loud. He hadn't let me stay at my apartment since the tire slashing incident.
Oh dear God, please let him be all right.

I wasn't a particularly religious person, but I spent the entire endless ride to the clubhouse clutching Jessica's hand and praying.

Finally we pulled up to the clubhouse's gate. I had an eerie moment of déjà vu. The last time I was here I had Tucker in the backseat and went toe-to-toe with his stubborn and scary father. Now all I wanted was to look into Reb's eyes and make sure he was okay. Tank still hadn't broken and told us anything about what had gone on tonight, and all of the ladies' phones were suspiciously silent.

That wasn't a good sign.

Shouldn't their guys at least check in and tell their girls they were all right? Was that too much to ask?

And why wasn't Sig opening the gate?

I was inches from climbing over the fence myself—screw the barbed wire—when Tank blared the horn. He rolled down the window and yelled, “Hurry the fuck up, prospect! I've got the prez's old lady here. Move your ass!”

A beat later the gate crawled open. Tank pulled through and had to park at the far end of the lot due to the amount of bikes everywhere. I didn't even wait for the truck to come to a complete stop. I shoved the door open and ran. When I reached the front door, I hesitated. Should I go in here, or circle around to Reb's private entrance? I didn't even know where he was. He could be in his room or his office or anywhere, really.

“What are you doing?” Jessica asked when she caught up to me.

“I don't know where to go.”

And I'm afraid what I'll find inside
. But I couldn't give those thoughts power, because he was okay. He had to be okay.

“Follow me.” Jessica grabbed my arm and led me through the clubhouse. Unlike my first visit, there was no thumping music. No tables full of recklessly drinking men, and women ducking underneath. I heard a murmur of conversation as we passed through the front tables. A few guys were clustered around the bar, but no one I recognized. Where was Zag? Bumper?
Reb?

Oh God. Oh God. Oh God. It had to be bad if Zag wasn't waiting out front for Jessica. My scalp prickled, and I had a sudden, overwhelming urge to wash my hands. Air wheezed through my lips with every breath I took.

“Shit, she's looking shocky.” Suddenly Bumper's face swam into my vision. “Maybe she shouldn't go in. We don't need two patients. How many fingers am I holding up?”

“Her man's hurt. She's fine.” Jessica shoved Bumper out of the way and pulled me down the hall. “Stop asking stupid questions, Bump. Where the hell is Reb? His room? His office?”

“His room. But—”

Jessica immediately whirled around and plowed down the hallway toward Reb's club bedroom. It was only my second time in the clubhouse, so I didn't know where to go. But Jessica did.

At the end of the hallway, Zag stood in front of the door. “Doc's in with him right now. I think he needs a min—”

“Get out of my way.” I cut him off as I stepped in front of Jessica. “Move. Or I'll make you.”

Zag's eyes grew big. Something in my voice or expression must've warned him, because he raised his palms and stepped away from the door without a fight. Or maybe it had something to do with his pissed-off fiancé at my back. Either way, I won.

I opened the door and froze at the sight before me. Reb was on his stomach in the middle of his bed, but it was his back that had me swaying on my heels. I put a hand out on the doorjamb to steady myself. Blood oozed from at least three large cuts. One marred the tattoo of his club logo, while another stab wound farther down looked precariously close to his kidneys.

Oh God. He was hurt. Really hurt.

A slender man in leathers leaned over him with a needle and thread. “I really don't think you wanna be awake for this part, brother. I have some pills—”

“No.” Reb turned his head and glared at the man over his shoulder. “I gotta be awake when Emily shows up.”

I opened my mouth to tell him I was here, but only a croak came out. Tears burned my eyes as I couldn't look away from the extent of his injuries. Reb was bleeding.

But he was still alive, I reminded myself.

And worried about me. He should be taking care of himself and his injuries. I wiped a hand over my eyes—no doubt smearing makeup all over my face—and stepped into the room. “I'm here, Reb.”

“Sunshine.” Reb turned slightly and winced at the movement.

I rushed over to the side of his bed. “Don't move. That looks painful.”

“Hurts like a motherfucker.”

I had to laugh at his usual blunt way of speaking. He might be in pain, but that wasn't dulling his wits at all. “I know, baby. Maybe this isn't the place to, uh, get medical help. Shouldn't you…I don't know…be in a hospital or something?”

“Can't. Doctors ask questions, and we can't give answers.” Reb broke off to hiss as the man I assumed was Doc poured some kind of liquid on Reb's back.

“Some of these cuts look pretty deep,” Doc said as he put the bottle down and picked up his needle and thread. “You're gonna need a few deep dermal sutures.”

“I don't give a fuck. Just get on it already.” Reb turned his head and closed his eyes.

“Maybe we should clear the room and give you something for the pain now that you've seen your woman.”

Reb grunted. “I'm not taking shit. Didja get a look at my girl in that dress? Get to stitching me up, Doc. I got important business to take care of.”

“Reb!” I shook my head and closed my eyes briefly in embarrassment. “Everyone's gonna think we're going to…you know.”

“Baby, they're not gonna think it. They're gonna hear you screaming in about twenty minutes. Now get over here, so I don't have to worry about you passing out while you watch Doc stitch me up.”

Judging by the way my face was feeling, I had about a three-alarm blush going on. But still I walked around the bed and took a spot kneeling by his head, so I could look at Reb but not see everything that the dubious Doc was doing.

“I still think you're crazy for not going to a hospital.” I cupped his cheek in my hand and brushed my thumb over his stubble. The pain I saw in his eyes made my heart catch. “You need real medical attention, Reb. Somewhere sterile, with drugs and qualified people. No offense, Doc.”

“None taken,” Doc murmured as he bent over Reb's back.

“Can't, baby.” Reb tensed as Doc began stitching. “Puts the club in danger, and I'll be the last one to do that.”

I watched helplessly as Doc labored over Reb's wounds. I didn't
watch
watch. My gaze was centered on Reb's face and the agony he fought to contain. I know he was trying to be brave for my sake. My stomach in knots, I searched my brain for something, anything, to distract him.

“So how many lap dances did you have tonight?”

Reb blinked. “What?”

“You guys went to a strip club tonight, right? So how many lap dances did you have? Two? Three?”

“Technically it was a juice bar. Not a strip club.”

Now it was my turn to blink. “A juice bar? Why did you guys go there?”

Doc barked with laughter. “Is she for fucking real?”

“What?” I looked between them in confusion. “I thought you went to a strip club for Zag's party. How'd you get stabbed if you were at a juice bar? Doesn't Smoothies close at like ten o'clock?”

“Holy shit, man. How'd
you
end up with such an innocent? She doesn't even know what a juice bar is?” Doc stepped back and stared between Reb and me like someone watching a Ping-Pong match.

“Just fucking stitch me up already.” Reb scowled in no apparent direction. “This is taking forever since the two of you are clucking away like a couple of hens.”

I bit my lip in embarrassment. What did I say?

“Don't look at me like that, baby. I'm not mad. Not at you, at least.” Reb twisted to look behind him and winced at the movement. “Fucking stitch me up already.”

“Yes, sir.” Doc pushed Reb's shoulders back into position, then bent over Reb once more. “Just didn't know there were still innocents like her out there. Let alone ones who'd hook up with guys like us.”

“Yeah, well, she's one of a kind.” Reb avoided looking at me.

“I can see that. Unless…do you have any sisters?”

I had no idea what they were talking about. How'd this conversation swerve so hard in another direction? “No, sorry. Only child. So does that mean you didn't get a lap dance, Reb?”

Reb huffed with laughter, then winced. “Don't make me laugh, baby. It's screwing up Doc's stitches, and hurts like a son of a bitch.”

My eyes narrowed. “I think you're deflecting. So did you go to a strip club or not?”

“Yes, we went. And no, I didn't have a lap dance.”

“Wait, what?” I blinked in surprise. “But why not? I'm not one of those irrationally jealous women. I wouldn't have minded. I trust you.”