SANGRE: Night Rebels Motorcycle Club (Night Rebels MC Romance Book 6)

by Chiah Wilder

  “Nope.” He switched off the engine.

  “You’ll have to come and visit me. I could show you all around. We’d have a good time.”

  “I’m sure we would,” he said, tweaking the tip of her nose. He slid out of the car, and she followed suit.

  Cuervos was bustling with people. Two large-screened televisions had a boxing match on as several of the men clad in leather vests and denim watched the screen. Sangre grabbed her hand and led her through the lines of people until they arrived at a table. Three couples sat there, all eyes falling on her as Sangre bumped fists with the three men who wore vests very similar to his. Placing both hands on her shoulders, he thrust her in front of him and pointed at a woman with dark hair. “This is Chelsea”—he pointed to the blonde next to her—“Breanna, and Raven. This is my friend, Isla.”

  Her heart twinged a tiny bit at the words my friend, but she was being silly. I am his friend. We’re just friends. He’s made that clear since forever.

  “Come sit over here,” Breanna said.

  “Aren’t you gonna introduce us?” asked a dark-haired man sitting next to Raven.

  “You dudes don’t matter.” Sangre laughed and the other men joined him.

  “I’m Isla Rose.” Looking at the dark-haired man, she smiled. “Who are you?”

  “Muerto.”

  Another one of them said, “Paco.”

  “Steel,” said the man sitting next to Breanna.

  “You’re the president,” she said.

  Steel got up and motioned for her to come over. “Take my seat.”

  Sangre let go of her hand, and she instantly missed the warmth of his skin on top of hers. Muerto and Paco jumped up and joined Steel as he walked toward the bar. She sat down and Sangre bent down and whispered in her ear, “What do you want to drink? The nachos are a given.” The heat of his breath on her neck made her quiver.

  Her mind was foggy. She glanced around and saw a strawberry margarita in front of Chelsea. “A strawberry margarita.” She watched him swagger over to the bar, threads of jealousy tangling around her as she saw different women checking him out, and a few others touching his arms and even his butt. It brought her back to the way she’d felt when they were in high school. He’d had so many girlfriends, and since they were best friends, he’d tell her about them when all she’d wished was that she was one of them.

  “I love your voice and your band,” Chelsea’s voice pulled her from the past.

  She dragged her eyes away from a curvy brunette who’d slinked an arm around his waist and leaned in close, whispering something in his ear that made him laugh. “Thanks. The band has a gig in a couple of weekends at The Rear End. I’ll put you and your boyfriend on the guest list.”

  “That’d be great.”

  “Who had the strawberry margarita?” a waitress asked, lifting up a large glass.

  “I did,” Isla answered, tapping the space in front of her.

  “Nachos are on their way,” the waitress said before hurrying off.

  As Chelsea, Breanna, and Raven asked her questions about living in LA and being in the band, she kept directing her gaze back at Sangre and the women who surrounded him as he leaned against the bar talking to the bartender.

  I’m being ridiculous. Of course, women are attracted to him. He’s damn sexy, and he’s got that bad boy vibe down perfectly.

  “Isla?”

  She stared at Raven trying to remember what they were talking about. “Sorry, I zoned out for a second. What did you ask me?”

  Raven glanced over at Sangre then back at her and smiled. “The Night Rebel men get a lot of attention from women. Don’t sweat it.”

  Isla ran her fingertip along the rim of her sugar-coated glass. “No, it’s not like that. I mean Sangre and I are just friends. We’ve been friends since we were in grade school. It’s cool. I mean, I have a boyfriend—Benz. He’s the drummer in the band. We’ve been on and off for almost a year, but he’s trying to be a better boyfriend. Even though Sangre and I lost touch for all these years, we’ve picked up just where we left off. It’s like that with friends.”

  Raven, Chelsea, and Breanna stared at her as she rambled on and on. Her English high school teacher’s voice echoed in her brain, “Methinks thou dost protest too much.” Mrs. Paulson would say that to her when Isla would make up excuses for not being prepared or for blowing a quiz.

  Licking off the sugar from her finger, she looked at Raven. “Now what did you ask me?”

  “How long you’re staying in Alina.”

  “At least another couple of months. We’re recording an album at a studio about thirty miles from here.” As much as she wanted to see what Sangre was up to, she forced herself to not look over at him. A light sweat broke out at her hairline, and her skin pricked and itched, like a million ants were crawling over it. She jumped up, knocking over her nearly empty drink. “Oh shit. I’m sorry.” Grabbing a napkin, she mopped up the spreading liquid.

  “No worries,” Breanna said. She motioned the waitress who came over and wiped the table clean.

  “Where’re the bathrooms?” Isla asked.

  Pointing to a hallway right of the bar, Breanna’s gaze fixed on her. “Are you okay? You look real flushed.”

  “I’m just hot all of a sudden. I’m good. I’ll be back.”

  As Isla walked to the ladies’ room, she glanced at Sangre and her heart skipped a beat as his gaze met hers. Isla lost herself in his eyes: They were the color of a perfect raindrop on a blue morning glory. They reminded her of the baby blue throw she wrapped herself in when it was chilly—cozy, warm, and familiar. When she was a child, she’d believed he had his own sky inside of him. At that moment, the noise around her faded away as she stood locked in his searing gaze. Desire flickered in them, ensnaring and captivating her, making her limbs tremble, her heart pound, and her mouth go dry.

  And then a blonde with breasts spilling over a way too snug top came up to him and planted a big kiss on his lips.

  Isla’s stomach hardened.

  She snapped her head away then walked to the restroom, refusing to give him a backward glance.

  Chapter Eleven

  Sangre pushed the blonde back. “What the fuck?” he growled as his gaze followed Isla until she disappeared down the hallway. For several seconds they’d been connected then the bitch had to come over and throw her tits in his face. The way Isla stalked away told him she was pissed, and that made him feel good even though he knew it shouldn’t.

  “I came over to say hi and to see if you’re interested in having some fun. It’s been a long time, Sangre. I heard you’re in between bitches. Remember the last time you were like that? We had some good and dirty fun, baby.” She leaned forward again, but he put his hands on her shoulders and held her at bay.

  “Not tonight. I’m here with a friend of mine and some of my brothers.” He pointed at Shotgun. “Hit him up. He’s usually up for it.”

  “Are you sure you don’t wanna play?” She stuck out her lower lip as she ran her fingers down his arm.

  “Yeah.” He fixed his eyes back at the hallway. Shaking her head, the blonde moved away and walked toward Shotgun.

  I should be playing with blondie or hanging with my brothers, but instead, I’m sitting here, staring at the doorway and watching for Isla. Fuckin’ lame. Since he’d started hanging around with her, he’d been acting like a damn pussy. Like the way he had acted a few nights before when that ass wipe drummer was hanging all over her. He’d been pissed as hell, and when the asshole went into the house with her, it was all he could do from breaking down the door and dragging his ass out of there. After that, he’d arranged for other guards to stand sentinel because he didn’t want to be near her. He was madder than fuck that he’d been jealous. That shit didn’t happen to him with chicks, but for some damn reason it did with her.

  Jay and Isla holding hands after school played through his mind. He’d been so damn pissed when his buddy started dating Isla. Of course, he’d never
let on that it bothered him, but each time he saw them together, it was like an electric shock to his system. He’d even arranged to double date with them for his junior prom. I was acting fucking lame even back then with her.

  Then he saw Isla come back into the bar, and the way several of the men checked her out made his blood boil, but he couldn’t blame them. She was a walking wet dream with those luscious curves, firm, rounded ass, and tits that were begging him to touch. A guy in a leather jacket said something to her that made her stop. Then he dipped his head down and spoke into her ear. Her full lips curved into a smile, and in Sangre’s mind, all he could see was that tempting mouth of hers wrapped around his hard cock. Dammit!

  When the man’s hand curled around her upper arm, tugging her closer to him, Sangre sprinted from the bar and was by her side in four long strides. Glaring at the dude, he drew her to him. “Back the fuck off,” he gritted.

  Puffing his chest out, the biker bared his teeth. “You want a problem?”

  Swinging Isla behind him, Sangre’s jaw tightened. “I already got one. You.”

  Isla tugged on his cut. “Forget about it. Let’s go.”

  He turned his head sideways. “Go back to the table.”

  “No. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

  Before he could answer, the guy’s hand slammed into his jaw and patrons jumped away, standing to the side of them. Another blow came his way, but Sangre was prepared for it and ducked in time while throwing a punch low to the biker’s belly. The scraping of chairs and the rush of footsteps gave room to the two men as they fought it out. Sangre hoped Isla had gone to the table.

  Hands grabbed his arm as he raised it in the air ready to pummel his opponent. “What the fuck?” he screamed out, trying to jerk out of the viselike hold.

  “Take it outside,” a burly man with a ZZ-Top beard said as he pulled Sangre back.

  “We don’t want the place trashed, dude,” Jorge, part owner of Cuervos, said.

  Steel and another dude held the other guy, who glared at Sangre, his nostrils flaring. “Just chill the fuck out. Either move on, or I’ll throw your ass out,” Steel said.

  The man shook his head. “This is bullshit.”

  The busty blonde ran up to him, her fingers running through his hair. “Oh, baby. You did good. Let me help you out.” She wiped his sweaty brow with a damp towel. In his peripheral vision, he saw Isla’s face contort as she stormed away.

  Pulling away from the bearded guy, he shrugged off the blondie. “Enough. I’m good,” he said to her.

  Steel looked at Sangre and pointed at the guy. “You done with this shit or you wanna take it outside?”

  Craning his neck, he tried to see if Isla had gone back to the old ladies. “Nah. I gotta find Isla.” He spun around and stalked to the table. When he approached, he didn’t see her.

  “What happened to you?” Chelsea gasped.

  “I got in a fight.”

  “Was all that ruckus you?” Raven said, handing him a bunch of napkins.

  Nodding, he wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth. “Do you know where Isla is?”

  “She told us she was going to the ladies’ room,” Breanna answered. Creases formed on her forehead. “But that was a while ago. She should be back by now.”

  “She was there when the fight broke out. She didn’t come back to the table?” The old ladies shook their heads. “Fuck,” he muttered in a low voice.

  “Here,” Chelsea handed him a glass of water. “Wet the napkins.”

  He quickly poured some water on them and scrubbed the dried blood off his face. “I’ve gotta find her.” His insides tightened and he dashed away. He flung open the front door and stepped outside, his eyes scanning the area around him. In the distance he saw what looked like a woman walking, her back to him. From the way her body moved, he was positive it was Isla.

  Cursing under his breath, he ran after her. When he was less than a block away, she spun around, terror etched on her face. When her gaze landed on his, she turned back around and started to run. He caught up to her, grabbed her arm, and yanked her to him.

  “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” she said, twisting in his grip.

  “Making sure your ass is safe. Why the hell did you take off? You got some crazy asshole after you, and you’re walking alone at night down a dark street in a pair of fuck-me heels? What the hell were you thinking?”

  “I didn’t want to see you get your face smashed in. You acted like a damn Neanderthal back there. When you were in high school, I used to think you got in fights because everyone thought you were a tough badass and you wanted to show them you were, but … newsflash, Sangre—we’re out of high school. You can stop trying to prove you’re tough.”

  “I’m not trying to prove shit! The fucker gave me attitude. Anyway, what does that have to do with you running out and pulling a crazy ass stunt like this?”

  Her face softened a bit. “Okay. You’re right. I shouldn’t have run out of the bar—it was a stupid thing to do. I was just so mad and upset. Why the hell did you come over and start all that up?”

  “I didn’t like the way he was touching you. He could be the sick wacko who’s sending you those letters. You should’ve pulled away. You can’t afford to be too friendly with strangers.”

  “Well, if you were so worried about it, why were you hanging at the bar with your bevy of girls instead of protecting me?”

  The heat of anger bubbled beneath his skin as his eyes narrowed. “I was protecting you, that’s why I pulled you away from him.”

  “Or did you do it because you were jealous? It didn’t seem like you—”

  “I wasn’t jealous.” He clenched his jaw.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yeah. Why the fuck would I be jealous? We’re not dating or anything. We’re just friends.”

  She turned her face from him. “I know that. It just seemed that way.”

  “I don’t want you pulling stupid shit like this again. You’re damn lucky nothing happened to you. This nut could be anywhere.” He was pissed at her but more at himself for letting his emotions claim him when he should’ve kept his distance and his eye on the situation. But when Sangre saw the asshole touch her, it was like the jerk had lanced a red-hot poker through him, and he acted without thinking. Isla was stirring up all kinds of shit inside him that he didn’t want to feel.

  An audible sigh came through her parted lips. “I know. I wasn’t thinking. I don’t know. It just freaked me out when I saw that guy hit you. It really scared me.” She leaned into him and put her head on his shoulder.

  All the fear and anger he had brewing inside him seeped away and he held her close. He inhaled, breathing in the fresh, citrus scent of her shampoo and the sultry fragrance of her perfume mixing together in a unique, warm, indefinable something that was only Isla. Her satin-soft skin glided under his fingers, making his dick stir. Tightening his jaw, he tried to clamp down his mounting desire.

  “I didn’t mean to scare you.” His voice was hoarser than it should have been.

  “What can I say? I’m fucked up.” Her laugh was weak and dry. “It reminded me of my dad and how he’d throw punches at me and my sisters and brother. I just had to get away. I didn’t want to see you hurt. I wanted to stop it, but I felt helpless. Maybe that’s the way my mom felt. I always blamed her for not doing anything when my dad would punish us, but maybe she just felt helpless.”

  A sudden coldness hit his gut. He’d known her dad was a strict disciplinarian and unreasonable, but she’d never told him that he’d hurt her or her siblings. “I didn’t know your dad hit you.”

  “He knew where to leave the bruises so they wouldn’t show,” she said softly.

  “You should’ve told me.”

  “I never told anyone. None of us did. He had a way of making you think you deserved it.”

  “Oh, Isla.” He squeezed his arms tighter around her, hoping to block out the memories from her difficult past. It’d never o
ccurred to him that her dad had been hitting her because he’d come from a home where corporal punishment had never been used. If he’d known, he would’ve done something that probably would’ve landed him in jail. The idea that she was being hurt while they were friends ate him up inside.

  “I didn’t mean to bring it up. It’s just that the fight brought back all these memories. One time, I tried to stop him when he was beating on my brother. He stopped then came after me with such viciousness that I had to stay home from school for a couple of weeks until the bruises and swelling disappeared. After that, I learned not to interfere. So, whenever shit went down with one of my siblings, I’d just run to my room and cover my ears while my insides twisted and churned. I hated feeling helpless whenever my brother or sisters cried out.”

  Anger flowed through his veins. “Did he beat on your mother too?”

  “Not with his hands—that privilege was reserved for us. He beat my mom up with his words and his cruel actions, like not giving her a gift on Valentine’s Day because she’d gained some weight, and he couldn’t reward that. Or he’d always tell her about the women he thought were sexy and attractive in our neighborhood or among her friends. It was terrible how he chipped away at her self-esteem. He did a great job of it with us too. I never could understand how he could do that to us. We loved him. Isn’t your dad supposed to love you?” Her voice hitched.

  He remembered when she’d been out of school for that time. When he’d called or gone over to her house, her mother had told him she had the measles and couldn’t see anyone. There’d been no reason for him to have doubted it, and when Isla had come back to school, she’d acted like everything was all right. He ran his hands up and down her back. “It fuckin’ sucks when you can’t depend on your parents. They’re supposed to be there for you no matter what, but it doesn’t play out like that sometimes. Your dad had shit going on inside of him that he took out on you. Instead of dealing with it like a man, he made all of you miserable because he was. I’m sorry I didn’t know.” She sniffled, and he squeezed her. “Shh … it’s all over now.”