Rebel (The Renegades)

by Rebecca Yarros

  I laughed and was rewarded with a glare from both the women in my life. Check yourself. Penelope is not your woman. Not now. Not ever.

  “She’s on TV, Grandma. And in magazines. She does crazy, dangerous things.”

  “Ah, like Evel Kneival,” she said with an appreciative nod.

  “Yes, ma’am,” Penna agreed.

  “Well, isn’t that something. It’s good that you have a career. I’m a nurse. Been taking care of newborn babies since I was twenty-five. Gives you a purpose outside yourself. Now, I’m going to check on dinner. Cruz, why don’t you give me a hand.” She stood and brushed imaginary dirt from her slacks.

  My eyes narrowed. “Didn’t you just say to stay out of your—”

  “Now, Cruz,” she ordered from the doorway.

  I was out of my seat instantly. “Will you be okay for a minute?” I asked Penelope.

  “Yeah. Actually…” She chewed on her lower lip, and I looked away so I didn’t lean down and suck it free.

  “What’s up?”

  “You still have your phone turned on? I turned my plan off since I figured everyone I talk to is on the ship with me.”

  “Yeah. Did you want to borrow it?”

  “I kind of want to call my parents,” she whispered, her hands clasping and unclasping on her lap.

  “It’s yours,” I said, and pulled it from my back pocket. “Code is 1202.”

  Her eyes widened at the trust I’d just given her as she took the phone.

  “I’ll be in the kitchen if you need me.”

  She nodded, and I left her sitting on my couch before I could question myself too much on why I’d just done that. I didn’t have anything to hide from her—at least on the phone—but it was still a step that didn’t need to be taken, another line crossed.

  I walked into the kitchen as Grandma stirred dinner.

  “Just what do you think you’re doing with that one, Cruz?” she asked, never one to beat around the bush. “She’s a student, right?” She’d switched to Spanish, so I did the same, knowing it was to keep Penna from accidentally overhearing.

  “Yes,” I said, leaning back against the tile of the counters.

  “Is she your student?”

  “Yes.” There was no lying to this woman. I never had, I never would.

  “Cruz.” She sighed in obvious disappointment.

  “I met her before I even left for the ship. It was when I went to Vegas with the guys.” The kitchen was dimmer than usual, and I looked up to see one of the can light bulbs was out.

  “Did you marry her?” she asked, mischief in her eyes.

  “This isn’t one of your soap operas, Grandma.” I crossed the kitchen to the closet in the corner and pulled out a replacement bulb.

  “Don’t worry about that. I’ll get around to it.”

  “Just make me a list, and I’ll get it all done before I leave tomorrow,” I told her, already in the process of changing the one that had gone out.

  “So you didn’t know she was a student?”

  “Nope. I didn’t realize it until I walked into my Latin History class, and there she was.” Stunned. Perfect. Untouchable. And still somehow mine.

  “So there’s nothing going on between you two?” she asked in an exaggeratedly innocent voice.

  “I’m her teacher.”

  “And you’d like to teach her more than history,” she said, pointing her wooden spoon at me. “I’m not blind. You look at that girl like she is the first drop of sunshine you’ve seen after a lifetime of darkness.”

  “Soap operas, Grandma.”

  “Truth, Cruz.”

  “I’m not going to do anything that jeopardizes this. I have one shot—”

  She spun, her eyes wide. “One shot to do what?”

  Fuck my life. Why didn’t I shut the hell up? I took a deep breath and prepared to be eaten alive by a woman half my weight. “The ship docks in Cuba as its last stop before Miami.”

  “No. I forbid it. You stay on that ship when it docks and don’t you dare step foot on that island. You understand me?”

  “I promised her.”

  “Now you promise me!” she snapped. I would have fired back, but the fear in her eyes stopped me cold.

  “I can’t do that. But I will promise that I will take no unnecessary risks, and I’ll act only if it’s safe to do so.”

  “I can’t lose you, too,” she whispered.

  “You won’t,” I swore, hugging her.

  She composed herself and stepped back. “Go tell your girl—student—that we’re about to have dinner.”

  “Okay.”

  Just before I left the kitchen, she said, “And for the record, I like her.”

  I turned, my hands braced on either side of the doorframe. “Yeah. I do, too, which is half my problem.”

  Walking out of the kitchen, I saw Penna in the hallway, looking at the framed pictures that lined the space. Cringing at the thought of her staring at my awkward middle school years, I got over there quickly. “Hey, dinner is just about ready. How did the phone call with your parents go?”

  “Is this your mother?” she asked, blatantly ignoring my question as she looked at one of my favorite pictures.

  “Yes. That was taken right after we got here.”

  “Where is she now?”

  “Dead. She died about ten years after this picture was taken.”

  “I’m so sorry,” she said.

  “It was a long time ago.”

  “These are from when you were in the army,” she said, changing the subject again. I was learning that she liked to deflect anything that got too personal.

  “What gave it away? The uniforms?” I leaned my shoulder against the wall and studied her as she examined every picture.

  “Do you miss it?” She leaned closer at a picture of me in Afghanistan.

  “Yes. Not the war, but I miss serving. This country gave me everything, and I like to give back what I can.”

  “Ever think about getting back in?”

  “Every day,” I answered honestly. “I still debate going into the reserves.”

  She turned and handed me my phone. “I was right.”

  “About what?”

  The corners of her mouth lifted. It would have been so easy to lean forward and kiss her, so tempting to feel that rush I got only with her. But I’d already crossed about a dozen ethical lines with her today, and that was one I was determined to leave intact.

  “Let’s have some dinner,” she said, walking past me.

  I caught her hand. “What were you right about?”

  Her gaze darted from the picture and back to me, the unmistakable flash of heat sparking there. She’d had the same look on her face in Vegas.

  “You look incredible in a uniform.”

  She smiled at me, and my fucking heart stopped. No, no, no. Not for you. I let her hand go before I did something stupid like pull her closer. Like back her into my childhood bedroom and pin her to the wall so I could kiss that smile off her face.

  Instead, I let her walk away, for her safety and mine.

  As she went into the kitchen, I rested my head against the wall and sucked in a huge breath. In that moment, it became crystal-fucking-clear. This thing between us—whatever it was—would eventually break the self-control of a saint.

  And I was no saint.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Penna

  Los Angeles

  “There you are!” Pax called from the super ramp. He was fully geared up, his helmet under his arm, as he talked to some of the crew. It was our second day in L.A., but my first seeing them. Cruz had taken me home after dinner with his grandmother, and I’d spent the night at my apartment, trying to simultaneously forget and remember everything about the day.

  Cruz felt like a normal guy at home—not my teacher—and as much as I tried not to, I liked him. I liked his sense of humor. I liked the way he took care of little things around his grandmother’s house while we were there. I liked his smile
, his laugh, the way he did the dishes when we were done with dinner. I liked his effect on me just as much as it absolutely unnerved me, his ability to soothe the ache in my heart and amp up my pulse at the same time.

  But then he’d dropped me at home and become Dr. Delgado again.

  “Penna?” Pax said, snapping me out of my thoughts.

  “Here I am,” I said.

  “Hey, guys. Give us a minute, okay?”

  Bobby debated it for a second, but nodded. “You got it.”

  “How is it being back on the ranch?” I asked, motioning to the wooded area around us. Pax had bought twenty acres a few years ago and named it Renegade Ranch before decking it out with a top-of-the-line mechanic shop, a four thousand square foot house, and more ramps than I could count.

  “It’s nice. I’m looking forward to getting back here.”

  I ran my hand along the handlebar of his bike. How funny that his was the bike I was riding when it all happened, but mine was the one I couldn’t touch.

  “Where did you disappear to yesterday?” he asked.

  I shrugged. “I needed some space.”

  Cruz was definitely not up for discussion, and neither was my huge failure of an attempt to see Brooke.

  “I just figured that you would want to use the ramps for a day before we headed back out to sea.”

  “He hoped,” Landon said, slinging his arm around my shoulder. He was in full gear, too, and currently glaring at Pax. “Right? You hoped.”

  “I hoped,” Pax admitted. “I thought maybe being home, you would be…”

  “Be what?” I asked, folding my arms across my chest.

  “You.”

  My belly twisted, my throat closing for the barest of seconds until I could push the anger down enough to speak. “Maybe I’ve changed. Maybe this”—I gestured to my jeans and tank top—“is me now.”

  “You kicked ass on that snowmobile!”

  “Oh, now it’s okay to kick ass? Because then you were pretty pissed that I’d dared to pull off a stunt like that.”

  “It was reckless,” Pax snapped.

  “Yeah, well, so am I.”

  “Get off her ass, Pax.” The voice came from behind me, settling my stomach instantly.

  “Nick!” I called out. Then I turned, knocking Landon’s arm free, and saw Nick sitting a few feet away. His blond hair was a little longer, shaggier than when we’d seen him in Dubai, but his eyes were clearer, a sense of peace lingering there that had been missing for far too long. He had a Paul Walker surfer vibe going on.

  He held his arms open, and I jumped at him, nearly smothering him in a hug. “Why don’t we go for a walk?” he asked. “Well, I’ll roll. You walk.”

  “Smart-ass,” I accused, but took him up on the offer.

  I saw him shake his head at Landon and Pax, and even though Pax threw up his hands, he let us walk off alone.

  “What’s going on with you?” he asked as we headed toward the garage.

  “Nothing,” I lied. “I’m fine.” How the hell could I explain it to Nick, of all people?

  “You know I’m paralyzed, right?” he asked as we walked in through the garage bay.

  “Of course.”

  “Good. I just wanted to make sure you didn’t think I was blind or anything. My legs don’t work, but my eyes do, and you, my dear Penna, are not fine.” He spun his chair around just in front of my bike.

  “Do you ever miss it?” I asked.

  “Every damn day.” He reached out and ran his hand along the seat of my bike. “Sometimes I dream that I’m still riding. Never walking, but always riding.”

  “I don’t know if I can ride again,” I admitted quietly. “Does that make you hate me? Because I can physically but not mentally?”

  He took my hand, and I looked down at him—Nick, who was always our Nitro, our fourth. The reason for the documentary, the trip…everything.

  The reason Brooke lost her mind.

  “You are one of the most talented riders of our generation, and no, I don’t mean for a girl. I mean ever. You’re strong, smart, gifted, and pretty fucking fearless, which I’ve always loved about you. But listen to me. If you decide not to ever get on a motorcycle again, you will still be all those things. There is more to life than riding, and if that’s what you want—to step away—then you have my full support. Fuck the expectations. Fuck the documentary. You, of all people, owe me nothing.”

  “There are parts that I still love. That ramp you had built for me in Dutch Harbor? It was perfect. The BASE jumping, the risk, the quiet focus that conquers the noise during the stunts? I love it. But this…” I reached out for my bike but pulled my hand back at the last moment. “This feels impossible.”

  “You’ve always been good at the impossible when you want to be. And that’s no pressure from me. This is your demon, and you’ll choose to conquer it, or you’ll choose to live with it.”

  “Pax doesn’t see it that way.”

  “Pax still thinks he put me in this chair by challenging me with the triple front. He’s terrified of losing you.”

  “Has she reached out to you?”

  His eyes widened as I changed the subject.

  “Brooke?”

  “Brooke.”

  His eyes dropped, flashing with pain. “No. Look, I wasn’t going to tell anyone…but I found her in bed with someone else that morning.”

  “What?”

  He sighed, rubbing his hands over his face. “The morning I had the accident. I came home from the ranch early and found her tangled up with Patrick. I stormed out, and she begged me not to go, but I did. I came back to the ranch, and the rest is history.”

  What? My stomach sank while denial clawed its way up my throat, ready to scream and defend my sister. She loved Nick to an obsessive level. But that look in his eyes was open and honest, and while Nick had never lied to me in our past—Brooke certainly had.

  “That’s why you wouldn’t see her after?” How could she do that to him? They’d been together for years, and she’d never once even hinted to me… It wouldn’t be the first time she kept something from you.

  “Yeah.”

  “Why didn’t you tell us?”

  “She’s your sister, and I knew she blamed herself for the accident. It wasn’t her fault, of course. I was reckless, stupid, and paid the price. But as much as I hated her for what she’d done, I didn’t want you blaming her, too. Not when you needed her. I can’t think of one event she didn’t come to for you, or one time you were hurt and she wasn’t immediately by your side. You didn’t deserve to lose your sister.”

  I stepped into the garage bay, where I could see Pax taking the ramp, the smell of gasoline like the finest perfume and the sound of revving engines the sweetest music. Nick pulled up next to me as Pax flipped, landing perfectly on the other side.

  “Every time I go to touch it, I see the light crashing. I see the roof of the arena just before I lost consciousness. I see her face, horrified by what she’d done, because she’d been aiming for Pax and got me. When I reach for that bike, I feel like I’m accepting the role I played in her descent into madness—like riding again means I don’t care that I didn’t see it, that I pushed it along.”

  “That’s a hell of a burden to carry, Penna,” he said softly. He didn’t coddle me like Landon or push me like Pax. He simply listened.

  We watched as Landon took the same ramp, his trick not as complicated as Pax’s but just as flawless, and I felt a stir of longing for the throttle, the speed, the weightlessness of being airborne.

  “Why don’t you come back with us? I know you’re not riding, but it’s not the same without you, documentary or no. I’m sure Pax could work it out with the ship. You wouldn’t have to take classes or anything, and my bedroom in their suite is empty.”

  His lips thinned, and he winced as if I’d caused him physical pain. “Just like you’re not ready to get on that bike, I’m not ready to step into the light. It’s one thing to design your stunts, your
ramps, your gear. That’s all behind the scenes. I know when the documentary premieres, I’m going to have to make a choice, but just like you, I’m sitting on that fence. The minute I step out and publicly show what’s happened to me is the moment I have to admit that it’s over—that there’s no chance my toes will start to move again. No chance that I could show up one day at a live expo to the roar of the crowd and shock everyone with the comeback of a lifetime. Illogical, maybe, but coming out means shutting down that tiny sliver of a dream forever, and I’m just not ready.”

  “God, we’re a pair.”

  “That we are.”

  “I miss you,” I said, taking his hand.

  “And I miss you all. Every day.”

  Pax and Landon walked toward us, and for that millisecond, it felt like it used to when it was just the four of us, our bikes, and the ramps. No sponsors. No competitions. Just four kids with busted bones, bruised and bloodied skins, and huge grins.

  “I want to want to ride, if that makes any difference,” I whispered.

  He gave me a smile that had so many layers I couldn’t possibly read them all: sadness, pride, acceptance…the list went on and on.

  “It makes all the difference. And if that’s what you want, you know we’ll get you there. There’s nothing the four of us haven’t been able to accomplish when we’re together.”

  I echoed his smile as Pax and Landon joked about something, laughing as they made their way toward us.

  Nick was right. We’d always been a family—able to conquer every feat, land every trick, and generally do the impossible when we were together.

  But my hope was short-lived as I realized we’d only be together another eight hours. Then it was back to the ship.

  “You two good?” Pax asked, his eyes wary as he looked at me.

  I forced a smile and took the first step, no matter how small it was.

  “Why don’t you show me that new ramp you’re working on for the quad?”

  Pax’s smile could have lit up the world as he tucked me under his arm and walked me toward Nick’s new design.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Cruz

  At Sea

  I had this under control.

  Spending that day in L.A. with Penelope had been reckless, and I’d crossed at least a dozen ethical lines, but nothing had happened. Scratch that. Nothing physical had happened. So, I was perfectly in control. Yeah, okay.