Broken Rebel: A Lawless Kings Novel

by Sherilee Gray

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  About the Author

  Copyright Page

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  PROLOGUE

  Ruby

  The window creaked loudly and I froze. If Valery knew I was sneaking out, she’d start yelling again. She’d yell if she knew I called her Valery, too, even if it was only in my head. I had to call her Mommy. But she wasn’t. My mommy was dead. So I only said it because I had to, but I wouldn’t think it. She couldn’t tell me what to think. I hated when she yelled. I tried not to make her angry, but I kept doing stupid things. Valery didn’t like having a stupid kid with nothing between her ears.

  The sound of the fridge banging shut made me jump, and a pain started in my belly. Frank was here. Valery drank more when he came over. Since Dad died, she drank all the time. Frank scared me. He came into my room one time and when Valery caught him sitting on my bed, she screamed at me and called me lots of names. She made me go outside until he left the next morning. It had been dark and cold. I didn’t like the dark.

  I rolled over, wriggling back, legs dangling, and dropped from my open window, onto the grass. It was cool and damp between my toes. It was also dark. Some of the boys thought it was funny to shoot the streetlights with their guns. Boys were silly like that.

  Except Neco.

  He was like Superman. When I looked at him, I sometimes imagined him wearing a red cape, how it would blow in the wind behind him when he picked me up and we flew away to live somewhere else. Because of Neco, I didn’t have to sit outside in the dark by myself anymore. The stones dug into my feet as I ran across the street, the air cold through my pajamas. I could see Neco’s mommy through the window. She had a man with her, so I ducked my head and raced to the back of the house. The light was off in Neco’s room, so I tapped on the glass.

  I saw his shadow behind the curtain before he pulled it back and opened his window. Without a word, he motioned me forward, then leaned out and lifted me in. He was strong like Superman, too.

  He pulled the covers back for me, then he tucked me in and climbed behind me. Dragging the extra quilt on the end of his bed over him, he put his arm around me and relaxed.

  “Okay?” he whispered.

  “Valery and Frank are drinking,” I whispered back.

  “Close your eyes. I’ll wake you when it’s time.”

  “Okay, Neco.”

  Neco sometimes stayed awake all night, so I didn’t sleep in and get in trouble. He told me he’d take care of me the first night I came to him crying and so scared I thought I would die. Neco doesn’t like it when I cry. And Neco always keeps his word. Always.

  A banging noise started up, a thumping sound against the other side of his bedroom wall, and then his mommy made a moaning sound. Neco went still behind me, then reached for his Discman. His mom got it for him to use when she had her friends over. He put one of the headphones against my ear and one against his and then he held me tighter. Neco didn’t like it when his mom had men over either. She did a lot, and I knew it made him angry and sad. But Neco’s mommy was nice. She made me breakfast and made me laugh and didn’t mind that I stayed here sometimes.

  I felt Neco’s chest vibrate against my back and I knew he was singing quietly, his breath tickling my hair. I wanted to hear what he sounded like, but he never let me.

  I fell asleep listening to a song I liked, one Neco played a lot, a man named Usher singing about a girl he once knew.

  I wanted to be Neco’s girl.

  One day I would.

  CHAPTER ONE

  Ruby

  “Good class tonight, guys!”

  I clapped with everyone else then headed to my bag, grabbed my towel, and wiped the sweat from my face. I’d been coming to this self-defense and close quarters combat class for three months. It was good, really good, but I was ready for more, for the next step. I wanted to learn holds and some kick-ass defensive moves. I wanted to be able to disarm a hostile skip during a fugitive recovery and then immobilize his or her ass so I could take them in. I wasn’t going to get that here. I needed to find a new class, something more advanced.

  If Neco wasn’t such a goddamn control freak, I could ask one of the guys from the King Agency—the P.I. firm where I worked as a receptionist—to train me. But he was a control freak, completely unbendable, and I couldn’t see that changing any time soon. So, that ruled that out.

  I enjoyed my job. I was grateful that Van and Hunter King, brothers who had grown up in the same neighborhood as me, had been willing to give me a shot behind the desk, but now it wasn’t enough. I needed more.

  Becoming an agent was something I’d wanted for a very long time. Van knew, and had made rumblings about training me, but nothing ever came of it. I knew Neco was behind it.

  It hadn’t been easy, not after the shit I’d been though, but I knew who I was, what I wanted out of life. Yes, I slipped occasionally. I had my insecurities and fears like everyone else. But I was a different person. I was strong and resourceful and confident. Neco refused to see that, though. He refused to see any-damn-thing except what he wanted to when it came to me.

  So, I’d been forced to take matters into my own hands. I’d been moonlighting at Hains Investigations for three months now. Harry, the owner, was teaching me how to research and trace, and had sent me on a couple of surveillance jobs. Nothing risky or anything, but it felt good. He’d also referred me to a friend who gave weapons training. I liked that he had faith in me and my abilities. I finally felt like I was heading in the right direction.

  Of course, if Neco found out what I was doing . . .

  Yeah, that wouldn’t be good.

  I waved to my instructor, swung my bag over my shoulder, and headed out onto the street.

  God, Neco drove me nuts.

  He also heated me up like no one else, turned me into a drooling, idiotic mess . . . that was, of course, when he wasn’t pissing me the hell off. More than once I’d seriously considered firing my computer at him across the office. The man was stubborn, arrogant, and when it came to me, utterly immovable.

  I wanted to lick him from head to toe and kick him in the nuts all at once.

  But make no mistake—Neco Malik took care of what he considered his.

  And I was his . . . just not in the way I wanted to be. He’d appointed himself as my protector, my hero, when I was just a little girl. Now I didn’t know what he was to me. I just knew I pissed him off equally as much. Which, I could admit, was kind of my own fault.

  I’d been . . . messing with him, for lack of a better word, for a while now. Calling him to bail me out of situations I’d put myself in, asking for help when I was perfectly capable of sorting the problem out myself. I don’t know why I’d started doing it . . . no, that was a lie. I knew exactly why. I’d wanted to spend time with him, just him and me, like it used to be, and I’d wanted him to see me as more than the scared, heartbroken little kid standing outside his bedroom window. I wanted him to see me as a woman. So far, my plan had been a monumental failure. All I’d succeeded in doing was convincing him I
was an irresponsible moron who constantly got myself into ridiculous situations that he needed to bail me out of. The complete opposite of how I wanted him to see me. It was like I was on this runaway freight train, heading full-speed for disaster. We were caught in this vicious cycle and I had no idea how to stop it.

  We were dysfunctional, as messed up as two people could be—and we were also inexplicably connected. We were like a Russian wedding ring. When all the pieces were linked, lined up perfectly, it was intricate and complicated—a perfect, beautiful mess. But as soon as you removed one of the rings, the whole thing fell apart. That was us.

  We needed each other.

  Unfortunately, Neco didn’t agree, or at least refused to admit it. Because apparently, he needed everyone but me.

  And so, the cycle continued. I tried to make him see me as more than an annoying little sister, while he worked at fucking his way through every available woman in New York City.

  I turned down the next street. It was out of my way, taking me farther from my place, but I couldn’t help myself. Usually I resisted, but tonight something inside me made it impossible to ignore. Four blocks later, I was standing outside Neco’s apartment building.

  How badly I wanted to make him drop his guard, knock on his door, and make him give me back my Neco.

  Shaking my head at my own stupidity, I started to turn, to head back the way I came. Why the hell did I keep doing this to myself? I lifted my head to check for traffic before I crossed the street, and that’s when I saw his SUV. Shit. I quickly stepped back into the shadows of the shop behind me and watched him pull up outside. He climbed out and I sucked in a sharp breath. I may want to strangle him, but he always succeeded in knocking the breath from my lungs. He was wearing soft, worn jeans that hugged his long legs and heavy thighs. His long-sleeved T-shirt was black and clung to his chest and abs in a way that made my mouth water. All that sexy ink was covered—all except for the ones you could see on his hands, and the skull tattoo on the right side of his neck. God, he was beautiful. He’d always been beautiful.

  The passenger door opened and closed.

  He wasn’t alone.

  A woman climbed out as well. She was tall, had long, dark hair, serious curves. Her dress was short and showed off her rack and long legs. She looked like a runway model.

  Everything in me coiled tight. I hated her instantly. Jesus, I didn’t want to see this. Then why couldn’t take my eyes off the nightmare in front of me? Why couldn’t I tear my eyes away as Neco walked around and swung his arm over her shoulders, leading her to the main entrance of his building. Her hand slid down his back and she grabbed his ass, and as much it made me want to hurl, I couldn’t blame her. Who wouldn’t go home with him if he asked? I couldn’t imagine any woman turning him down, ever.

  Neco stopped and turned to her then, and I watched in horror as he dipped his head.

  He was going to kiss her.

  My body jerked back, like I’d been struck by lightning. There was no way Neco could’ve see me, could even be aware of my presence, but his eyes lifted at that moment, and locked on me, like he was seeking me out through the shadows. I held my breath, not moving a muscle. Don’t panic. He can’t see you. There’s no way he can see you.

  The kiss Neco was about to plant on supermodel girl’s lips suddenly veered off and instead landed on her forehead.

  Heh.

  His “date” frowned up at him.

  Maybe she had onion breath. I started to grin, thought he might actually send her on her way. But of course, I was wrong. He grabbed her hand again and a few seconds later, they’d disappeared inside his building.

  My smile vanished and I stood there for several minutes after, heart racing.

  Why the hell had I come here? It was like the universe had sent me, giving me a great big slap upside the head, telling me to move the fuck on.

  I spun and headed for home.

  The universe had a point. Maybe it was time I listened.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Neco

  I pounded up the stairs from my office. I’d been working on cracking a security system all morning. The King Agency crew had a retrieval tonight, namely stealing a big-ticket item back from the thieves that took it in the first place so the insurance company didn’t have to pay out, which also meant a little breaking and entering. Nothing new, but the house they needed to get into was like Fort Knox, high tech all the way, and it had taken longer to get in the back door of the system than usual. I cracked it of course. Always did. The men at the agency specialized in getting around the law when it was required. It helped that we had the kinds of pasts that made us perfect for this kind of work. Criminal pasts. A bunch of ex-street thugs that had finally wised the hell up enough to go legit—well, at least that’s how it appeared.

  We did things our own way, and that wouldn’t ever change.

  The reception was quiet when I hit the top of the stairs, the only sound the music Ruby had streaming from her computer. Some alt shit that she loved. Like always, my eyes were drawn to her. I’d given up fighting it. Not looking at her would be as easy as asking the sun not to rise. If she was in the same room, I knew it, instantly. Her every move, no matter how subtle—shit, her every damn breath. No matter how much she pissed me off and made me fucking insane. Which she did constantly.

  Jesus, I’d even thought I’d seen her last night, outside my place. It’d thrown me. I hadn’t been able to get her out of my head after that. I’d had a hot, willing woman begging for it, and in the end, I’d sent her packing. I’d already fucked enough women pretending they were Ruby. Last night I couldn’t face it. I’d lain awake hard as iron, tossing and turning, refusing to even rub one out, desperate to get her out of my damn head. It hadn’t worked.

  Which meant today I was tired and horny and pissed the fuck off.

  My gaze slid over her from head to toe. Her back was to me, standing at the copy machine, straightening a stack of papers. Her ass jiggled as she worked and danced. Shit. I gritted my teeth and lifted my gaze. She’d cut her hair; it was up to her shoulders now. Her hair was thick and black, with that ever-changing stripe of color down the side of her heart-shaped face. Today it was purple.

  She turned to me, blue eyes connecting with mine through her black-rimmed glasses, and I felt a gut-punch. It’d been like that since the first time she’d knocked on my window, scared as hell, tears running down her face—in need of a safe place. I’d been that for her, for the longest time. I never thought that would ever change. I’d been wrong. So much was different now.

  I was different now—my soul was a hell of a lot blacker, that’s for damned sure.

  Her eyes widened a fraction, like they always did when she looked at me, lips parting slightly, as though her breath had been pushed from her lungs. There was an innocence I sensed inside her that called to me, called on every one of my possessive and protective instincts. Something she used against me whenever she got the chance.

  It made my dick hard every fucking time. Maybe that made me a sick motherfucker, but I’d never pretended to be a saint. I was far from it.

  But my dick would have to deal, because Ruby wasn’t for me. I won’t deny I wanted her. I wanted her in a way that bordered on obsession. Who was I kidding? I was obsessed. But we weren’t right for each other. We were both marked by our childhoods, by what followed, and in a way, that made the pair of us as compatible as oil and water. Or more like fire and gasoline.

  Being with her like that would only bring out the worst version of myself. A side of me I never wanted her to see.

  Today was her twenty-fifth birthday. I never forgot, though I pretended I did. Neither of us needed a reminder of the past, of the day it all went to hell.

  I held her gaze, forcing a look of indifference. Whatever it took to keep her at arm’s length. “Are the rest of the guys here?”

  Her head tilted to the side and those blue eyes narrowed in defiance, bright and terrifyingly beautiful, lighting her up from th
e inside. “Nice to see you, too, Neco. Surly as always, I see.”

  Always with the attitude. It’d piss me off if it didn’t turn me the fuck on so much. And today, the way she looked, that pink sundress, showing her inked-up arms, shapely legs, nice little peak of cleavage—I wasn’t in the mood to play her games. I was never in the mood to play her games. Unfortunately, Ruby didn’t give a shit what I wanted.

  “You have a good weekend?” she tacked on when I remained quiet.

  I dipped my chin and waited for the blast to follow. We didn’t just shoot the shit. Asking about weekends was not something we did, not anymore. Our interactions now consisted of her getting herself into shit and me bailing her out. Which meant she was about to do or say something to piss me off.

  “You?” I could fake the “let’s be friends” deal when I had to. And it was fake, we both knew it. We hadn’t been friends since Ruby’s sixteenth birthday. We tried to pretend for a while, but it never was the same after that night. I sure as hell knew why being her friend wasn’t something I could be anymore. I could only assume she knew as well, going by her constant attempts to get under my skin and push me to breaking point.

  Her lips curled up. They were soft and full, and looked even fuller with her dark lipstick. “I got some knew ink,” she said.

  My gut tightened. “Yeah?” I swallowed, hard. Ruby had creamy, smooth, pale skin, and she liked to decorate it. The ink she chose was always colorful, feminine. I’d imagined tracing every tattoo with my tongue . . . a lot. I had a vivid memory of when she got her first one. I’d taken her to my guy, my present for her sixteenth birthday. I hadn’t wanted her to do it, but I knew if I didn’t take her, she’d just go and get it done behind my back. At least I knew she was going to someone I trusted. I’d watched while the guy inked the Superman logo on her hip. I’d questioned her choice and she’d looked up at me and smiled.

  This is you. You’re my Superman. Now you’ll always be with me.