Heart of a Rebel: Rebel Aces MC Part 1

by K. D. Latronico

  Stepping into the kitchen, my eyes fell on the table, where my mother was seated with Leah and Lana, coffee mugs in front of them and a plate of cookies in the center of the table. Leah's big brown eyes gazed up at me, and I had to force myself not to stare at her and make everything kind of awkward. Luckily, I could always rely on Lana for a distraction.

  "We're not even her actual children and I know for a fact that we're her favorite," the dark-haired beauty spoke up, making a face at me. "Right, Mare?"

  My mother tsked, shaking her head and reaching out to playfully swat one of Lana's black and gray inked arms lightly. "Nonsense. You know I love you all equally."

  Lana rolled her eyes dramatically. "Right, right. Equally." Her perfectly sculpted brows wiggled at my mother as if they shared a secret. The older woman just laughed, turning to me.

  "Come here.” She waved me to her and opened her arms, indicating she wanted a hug.

  Swinging Noah down onto the ground, I let him loose, which allowed him to run to grab a cookie and then bolt from the room as if he knew he just did something he wasn't supposed to. Chuckling to myself, I walked over to my mother, placing my hands on her shoulders and leaning down to kiss her on top of the head. I wrapped my arms around her and hugged her, one of her hands resting on my forearm as she hugged me back, before leaning her head to the side so she could kiss my cheek. "Your beard is getting a little scraggly, sweetie. Are you going to trim it?"

  Before I had a chance to respond, Lana spoke up. "I think it looks good! It's kind of the thing right now. It suits him. Right, Lee?"

  Leah, after shooting her sister a glare, glanced over at me. "Yeah, it's not bad."

  It seemed that Leah caught that she had just been weird about a simple question, and she looked a little embarrassed, her eyes shifting to me again. "I mean, it looks good. I like it like that."

  If my mother caught how weird she was being, she didn't indicate it, but Lana snickered quietly from her seat, knowing full well that she had set her sister up. I just smiled. "Thanks, ladies." For good measure, I ran my hand down my beard. "I've missed a few days of deep conditioning, ma, and I gotta trim. I'll do it later."

  "Mmhmm, good," she said, satisfied with my answer. "How have you been, sweetheart? Work going well?"

  "It's going. Been a little busy."

  The back door opened then, my father's large frame appearing in the room. "Ward," he rumbled, nodding in my direction. "Got a minute?"

  I walked over to him, extending my hand for him to shake in a common show of respect for the man who raised me. "Yes, sir. What's up?"

  He took my hand in a rough shake, nodding towards the door he had just come from. "Outside."

  CHAPTER 7

  WARD

  ONCE WE WERE ON the back porch and the door had been shut, my father turned to me, a stern expression on his face. Typically, this was his default look. The man didn't smile often, and it was usually reserved for my mother, any of the girls, and his grandsons. But there was something more today, something I recognized when he was facing something particularly bad. Even behind the wild gray beard and the glasses he wore now, I could still tell.

  "We've got a big problem."

  Fuck. "That's the second time I've heard that today."

  He glanced at me but shook his head. "Just got off the phone with Kimmy. Number of Chingados are up for parole. Got hearings this month."

  My stomach clenched and immediately I felt bile rise in my throat. Chingados. I hadn't heard that name in years. In a way, part of me expected something like this to come soon but we had been so preoccupied with other shit that it snuck up on me.

  Twelve years ago, we had wiped ninety percent of Los Chingados street gang off the map. I hated thinking about that night. There has been a lot of bad shit that I've seen in the past, some worse than others, but it took me a long while to shake what took place that night, what I had seen, and what had come afterward. So much had changed shortly following the tragedy next door, though some of it wasn't that bad.

  A few of the gang members had been killed that night, but due to our interference in their plans, almost the entire group ended up behind bars, and that was where they remained - until now.

  "Fuck. Did she say when?"

  "They've all got different dates but she said the first one is in two weeks."

  I cursed again, my fists balling at my sides. "Paco?"

  My dad shook his head again. "No. Apparently they want to keep the Kingpin for a while. He ain’t up yet."

  At least that was good news - depending on how you looked at it. To me, there was nothing good about this situation. Despite the fact that they had remained quiet all these years, I wasn't dumb enough to think that more than a few former members getting out of jail wasn’t a big red flag for us. Clearly, I wasn't the only one with that thought process, if my father's demeanor was any indication.

  Shaking my head, I crossed my arms against my chest and looked back into the house. Fucking hell. That family had been through enough and were really doing well now, despite it all. This was the last thing they needed, knowing the very men that had a hand in killing their parents would be free once again.

  "We shouldn't tell them yet." My father's words broke through my thoughts, and I knew that he could guess what was going through my mind. I nodded in agreement. "Not until we know exactly what we're dealing with. I'm gonna contact Boone in Walla Walla and see what he knows or can find out about them. That way we know what we're dealing with."

  That was my father, always thinking, always planning. It was almost as if he hadn't given up the president's patch and was still leading us. "Dad, I got it, you don't have--"

  He cut me off, holding up a hand. "No, I do. You've got enough to worry about. Take care of the club, I'll figure this shit out and we'll go from there."

  There really was no use in arguing with him, so I agreed. I knew why he was doing this, why he had always gone above and beyond when it came to anything that was linked back to that night twelve years ago. The ache was still there, the regret and misplaced guilt that he carried with him, buried deep down inside. He blamed himself for not hearing the break in, for not getting to the Martinez’s in time. No matter what we told him, he still felt it, and deep down I knew that my old man wouldn’t rest until he fixed it for good.

  The conversation was ended when my father headed back to the door with a final, "I'll let you know what I hear." Once the two of us were back inside, all talk of the situation ended.

  ~

  TWELVE YEARS EARLIER

  When I woke up, I thought I would be sitting up in my bunk, back overseas. It wasn't rare for there to be gunshots heard around town, not with the street gangs that had started to take over, but nothing ever this close. Not in our neighbourhood.

  I was throwing on clothes before I was even half awake, grabbing my gun without a thought. There were voices downstairs, and I had heard my father storming down the steps, so I knew whatever it was, it was serious. And if my father was involved, so was I. There was no way I was about to stay up in my room when someone with a gun was firing so close to where we lived.

  Storming down the stairs, my eyes adjusting to the dark, I stopped short just at the bottom to take in the scene. The kids that lived next door in the house that my parents owned were huddled on the couch together, crying and trembling, as my Mom fussed over them in her nightgown and robe, her face pale as she tried her best to push her fear down for the Martinez kids' sake.

  "What's going on?"

  The sinking feeling in my stomach made me realize that I already knew, even if I didn't know the details. The gunshots had come from next door, and the parents of these three kids were nowhere to be seen. Immediately my blood started to boil.

  My mother looked at me and shook her head, her eyes shifting to the kids, indicating that she couldn't explain in front of them. When I glanced at the couch, my eyes caught Leah's, the oldest of the three.

  The devastation in her eyes was enoug
h to tear my heart out.

  I knew what I had to do. Turning quickly, I dashed towards the door, not even wearing shoes on my feet.

  "Simon, no! Your father is taking care of it."

  I spun around, the anger pulsing through me. Not at her, of course, but at the fact that I wasn't there by his side already. "I'm not letting him do it alone! I have to go over there." Quickly I turned back to grab the door handle.

  "No! Ward, please!"

  The voice stopped me in my tracks. Reluctantly I looked at Leah, who was standing from the couch now. She was wearing only a giant t-shirt, her hair mussed from sleep, her face streaked with tears. She looked so innocent, far more innocent than I usually saw the sixteen-year-old, and it killed me. It broke my fucking heart to see her like this, and it only solidified what I needed to do.

  "They have guns," she spoke again, her voice soft.

  I blinked. God, I wanted to grab her and hold her. I wanted to tell her everything would be okay, but I couldn't. "So do I. I'll be fine."

  Not wasting another moment letting them distract me, I yanked open the front door and ran outside, their voices yelling after me to stop, to come back, to leave it alone. But I couldn't. What kind of soldier would I be if I stayed locked away in the safety of my parents’ home? What kind of son?

  The lights were on in the front of the house next door, I knew exactly where to go. Without hesitation, I bolted up the front steps, stopping suddenly with my back to the siding, looking into the house through the screen door. That was when I heard a shot, followed immediately by another, and then a grunt.

  Not stopping to think, I threw the door open, pointing my gun into the living room. I didn't have time to survey the entire scene, but there were bodies on the ground and still men standing. My father was on one knee, a hand on his shoulder, his gun still pointed towards two men.

  I shot quickly, getting one guy in the leg, causing him to go down, and then the other in his thigh, disabling them, but not killing them, yet. As they were down I ran forward, kicking both of their guns away from their bodies before turning back around.

  "Dad!"

  He grunted, making me realize that he was who I heard when I was just outside. He must have gotten shot the moment before I burst into the room. "Tie them up, I gotta call Carrington. We've got a fuckin' shit show here."

  Confusion came over me. "The cops?"

  Lowering his gun arm, my dad swore, leaning over slightly. "Yes, fuck. This ain't a job for us. Not alone." Shaking his head, he nodded forward, and I took that moment to survey the scene.

  Manny Martinez lay face down on the floor, blood pooling around his head. Mere feet from him was his wife, face up, her eyes still open with a horrified expression on her lifeless face. There was blood all over her nightgown coming from her chest.

  Both murdered, right down the hall from where their children slept.

  I could be sick right there, but I swallowed it down to do what I needed to do. Moving quickly to find something to tie the two guys with, I yanked them both together as they screamed, securing their hands and legs so they couldn't move. I was able to get a good look now, seeing the colors they were wearing.

  Los Chingados. The Mexican street gang that had been reigning over the nearby area causing all kinds of grief. The very gang that Manny Martinez had been a part of.

  This was a clear hit; for what reason I didn't know, but they had come to take out Manny, and possibly his entire family.

  My stomach lurched.

  Finishing up his phone call, my dad walked around, kicking the guns to the center of the room, away from every one of the bodies, in case someone wanted to play the hero. Stopping near one of the other dead bodies, he looked down at him with disgust. "Luis Acevedo. Paco's fuckin' son." He cursed, kicking the lifeless body in front of him.

  This was bad. Really bad. Paco - real name Rafael Acevedo, Jr. - was the head of the gang, which honestly was more of a crime syndicate now than just a bunch of street thugs. Since he had taken over, things had gotten ugly and brutal.

  And now his youngest son was dead, by my father's gun, in a hit gone wrong.

  This was a fucking mess, and I knew for certain that it wasn't going to end here.

  CHAPTER 8

  LEAH

  "MY ANGELS! GET YOUR little asses over here right now!"

  We heard her before we saw her, which was exactly how Rita Warren made an entrance. Most assumed her actual height was about five-two but the woman was never seen out of heels. She was, for lack of a better term, on the larger side, with probably the biggest boobs I'd ever seen that hadn't been surgically added on. Bleach blonde hair and still rocking her biker babe clothes, she looked like she could be the twin of Beth Chapman, the wife of Dog the Bounty Hunter.

  Rita - or Mama, as she insisted everyone call her - was the Queen of the Rebel Aces MC. Her late husband, Jackpot, was this chapter’s founding President, and the founding Vice President of the entire club. The woman had been by his side during it all, and after he had passed she remained at the top, taking care of everything outside of club business. She pretty much ran the clubhouse, was in charge of all Old Ladies and Sweeties, and probably wouldn't be relinquishing control until she was good and dead.

  "Mama!" my sister and I chorused as we came forward to allow her to envelop us both in a giant hug. "How was your trip?" I asked while Lana added, "this place wasn't the same without you!"

  "Oh don't I know it. I'm shocked the boys didn't forget how to wipe their asses without me. At least they took good care of Brutus and Maverick. God help them all if my babies were neglected." Brutus and Maverick were Rita's two giant pit bulls, who were big teddy bears unless someone they cared for was being threatened. They lived on the clubhouse land like Rita, who had a house out back that had been built right around the same time that the warehouse was being renovated for the club.

  "And the trip was great, baby, thank you for asking. What better can ya do than a cruise? I ate so much I'm shocked they let me back on the boat," she barked with a loud laugh. "And Alaska was gorgeous as always. Wolfie's doing so good there, he's real happy. Looks good, too."

  A sad smile crossed her features as she spoke about her son, Wolf, the former President of the Aces before Crow. Wolf hadn't been president for long before he chose to retire. After being diagnosed with Parkinson's, he knew he wouldn't be able to ride anymore and lead the club like it deserved. About a decade ago he had chosen to move to Alaska, and since his mother didn't fly, he arranged twice a year for her to take a cruise out of Seattle to see him.

  I met her sad smile. "That's good to hear. I'm glad you had a good time."

  Rita beamed then, clasping her hands together. "I did, I really did. But I'm happy to be back and take care of all these sorry sacks. I missed all ya's. Why don't you come on back to the kitchen and I'll feed ya. You're both too fuckin' skinny for your own good."

  Lana snorted while we followed Rita into the kitchen. "Have you seen both of our asses? Skinny they are not."

  "So, you got junk in the trunk, don't mean shit. Come on, I made homemade wings and pasta salad, get in here before the boys take it all."

  Over wings and pasta, the three of us sat around one of the tables, talking about everything that had happened since she had been gone. Before we knew it, the front doors were being pushed open and in walked a group of the guys, all in the middle of a conversation.

  My eyes zeroed in on the one in front. It didn't matter what was going on, no matter how many years went by, or who else was in the room. If Ward was there, my eyes were set on him.

  The history between us was a little complicated. As a teenager, I had a crush on him like nobody's business. He was the boy next door, always tall, dark, and devastatingly handsome. His body had already been muscular, though not quite like it was now, it wasn't even that what got me (though it helped). Those blue eyes were enough to get any girl melting right there like ice cream under the summer sun, and that smile...

  Weak.
In. The. Knees.

  I always felt that I was just that teenager next door to him, the family friend that came around for dinner sometimes. Especially once he went away to the military, I figured my high school crush would go away. But it didn't. It got worse.

  Not long after my parents died, something had changed between Ward and me. It wasn’t obvious at first, and for a while I assumed it was all in my head. I was a young girl with a crush, going through the most difficult thing I had ever experienced in my life, and I was clinging to something for comfort. To the idea of Ward, the older, stronger boy - no, man - that had stood up for me and my family to protect us. But as I left my teen years and became an adult, I knew I wasn’t imagining things.

  Until it all came to a head the night I lost my virginity to him. There was no way it was in my head, the chemistry we had, the way we moved together. Even with me being as inexperienced as I was, it had been like we were made for one another. The chemistry between us was electric. Everything had been perfect, like one cliché after another.

  It was that night that I fell in love with Ward Gibson.

  But back then I was a silly little girl. Naive. He was older, had new responsibilities, a new life to take on. He hadn’t left the military unscathed. Something had been weighing heavily on his mind after that night, and it never truly went away. It only shifted to the club once he patched in. As a member of the Rebel Aces, there was so much Ward took on and couldn't share with me. And so, I went back to being at arm's length, my heart broken.

  But that didn't stop me from continuing to try. I knew how he felt for me, and that what I felt for him was real, and I was stubborn enough to keep trying. And a few times, he gave in. It was rare, but it happened. Those stolen nights, few and far between, only solidified what I knew he was denying. He didn’t treat me like a booty-call. Ever. There were just a few nights over the years when the temptation had been too much, where even the most strong-willed man couldn’t deny the pull of our bodies. But as stubborn as I was, Ward was even worse. He was determined, but so was I.