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

by Chiah Wilder

  “Hi, Isla. I’m excited to see you guys rehearse.”

  She looked at her blankly. “Do I know you?”

  Annoyance etched the woman’s face. “Lexi Strobe. Remember we bumped into each other at the festival downtown?”

  Oh yeah. The bitch from high school. What the hell’s she doing here? “Sure. Up on stage, the lights can be blinding. What’re you doing here?”

  “Benz invited me.”

  More damn kerosene on the fire. “I didn’t know you knew anyone in the band besides me.”

  “I met them at the festival, and then ran into Benz and Arsen at Beta the other night. You know … that nightclub on Fourth and Elm. I was surprised you weren’t with Benz.”

  “I was busy working. I write most of the lyrics for the songs. Don’t you have a job or something?”

  She blinked. “Of course, I do. I just took the day off to come to the rehearsal.” Her mouth turned downward. “Don’t you want me here?”

  “We normally have closed rehearsals, but it’s cool with me as long as everyone else in the band is down with it.”

  “They are.” Benz’s voice had a hard edge to it.

  She glanced over her shoulder and smiled sweetly at him. “Then all’s good.”

  They took a break after a couple of hours, and Lexi made a beeline to Benz, who put his arm around her and showed her his drum kit. Jac came over to Isla. “He’s an asshole. You know this, so don’t let him get you down.”

  “I’m not, but thanks.” Isla watched Jac saunter off, his head dipped down, cell phone in hand. The fact that he’d come over made her feel better. Jac was the one to get the least involved in all the drama between Benz and herself. Before they’d started dating, they had a whole lot less tension and antics, but after Parker had dumped her, citing the band as the reason, she’d been feeling so lonely and realized that no man would understand the dynamics of Iris Blue or the commitment it took to have a viable career in indie music. Benz had caught her in that weak moment in her life; she’d started a relationship with him, and it’d been an emotional roller coaster ever since.

  Glancing back at Lexi and Benz, the anger she’d been fighting most of the day bubbled when she saw Lexi pressed close against his side. It wasn’t so much that she was pissed because she was madly in love with him, because she wasn’t, it was more a blow to her pride—especially since the woman was the one who’d made some of her time at Jefferson miserable.

  She turned back around and pulled out her phone to call Madison. Whenever she needed picking up, Madison, with her cynical view about women and men, always came to the rescue.

  “I was just thinking about you,” Madison said. “I wanted to know if you were up for dinner tonight.”

  “I can’t. I’m at rehearsal, and then I have to go to the studio to record a couple of songs. Maybe tomorrow.”

  “That won’t work for me. My cousin’s going through a crisis with her man again. I promised to listen again.”

  Isla chuckled. “Speaking of men who keep making us go through shit again and again, you won’t believe who Benz is flirting up a storm with.”

  “Why the hell is he flirting at all?”

  “He’s an asshole, remember?”

  “Isla you can do so much better. Who’s the bitch?”

  “Lexi Strobe.”

  “Ugh … the man’s an asshole and an idiot. He’s got you, and he’s dissing you right now to play up to Lexi Strobe? I bet she’s focused on him because you guys are dating.”

  “Well, sorta dating right now. He’s so mad at me because I wouldn’t fuck him a few nights ago, so I know he’s trying to teach me a lesson. I guess I can kinda understand how he feels. I mean, I haven’t been the best girlfriend to him for the past few weeks.” Not since Sangre and I resumed our friendship. She didn’t know what the deal was, but she had no interest in sleeping with Benz, and instead of yearning for him or fantasizing about them together, Sangre was the one who filled her thoughts. But what would be the point even if we started something? I’m going back to LA soon. Maybe we could be friends with benefits? Would I like that?

  “Isla? Are you still there?” Madison’s voice broke through her thoughts.

  “I’m here. Sorry, I was just thinking about things. What were you saying?”

  “I said Lexi’s always after everyone’s boyfriend. If you weren’t with Benz she wouldn’t even be there.”

  “You’re right. I’d forgotten that about her. The other annoying thing is that she acts like we were best friends in high school. It’s like she wants to be my buddy now. It’s weird. Something’s wrong with her. Seriously.”

  Madison sniggered. “Want to know another thing that’s real weird? She’s now the lead in “Mousetrap.” It’s playing at the Globe Theater. Sharla Davidson was the lead, but now that she’s dead—enter Lexi.”

  Icy tingles skated across her skin. “Lexi was Sharla’s understudy? That’s not weird, that’s just fuckin’ freaky.”

  “I know, right? And …” Madison paused for dramatic effect.

  “What?”

  “She told everyone that she had the vibe she’d end up being the lead. She was so pissed when she didn’t get the lead that she bad-mouthed poor Sharla all around the theater circuit. She’s an evil person and would do anything to get ahead. She hasn’t changed one iota from the bitch she was in high school, and she was so damn jealous of you when you’d landed all the leads. I can guarantee your success is eating her alive right now.”

  When Isla looked over her shoulder again and saw Benz hugging her gently, Lexi’s gaze fixed on her. Isla shuddered: Lexi’s eyes were cold, calculating, and hard. She faced the bar again. “Maybe she wants my life—you know … Benz … Iris Blue—all of it.”

  “This is a Twilight Zone episode,” Madison said. When they were younger, they’d devour marathons of the show on the television.

  Isla chuckled. “Totally. Oh, she can have my dad and my fucked-up family.” Madison burst out laughing, which made Isla laugh hard. Soon Isla was sputtering and choking while she dabbed the tears from her eyes.

  A warm arm snaked around her. “Who’re you talking to?” Benz asked as he placed a kiss on her head.

  His action was the antidote to her laughing, and she pushed him away. “Madison.”

  “It’s Benz right? Is the bitch with him?”

  “Yes and no.”

  “Where is she?”

  “Not sure.”

  “Baby, the break’s over,” Benz said in a low voice, his hand making circles on her back.

  “I gotta go. I’ll call you later.” She hung up the phone and slid off the barstool.

  “After recording, I want to take you out for a nice dinner. We can have some wine, talk, and be like we used to before stuff happened.”

  “Stuff was you cheating on me. I’ll be beat after recording, so maybe you can take Lexi. She seems to have captured your attention.” Filter. Damn, why did I say that? She hated that the words slipped out of her mouth because she knew they’d make him satisfied. I sound so petty and jealous, just what he wants me to be. Ugh. I gotta have a break from him. Since he’s been here, my nerves have been in overdrive.

  “I can’t help it if women find me attractive. You know I have to play the game for the fans, but you’re my number one. I like that it bothers you. I was starting to think you didn’t care about me anymore.” He ran his fingers up and down her arm.

  “Benz?” Lexi said as she came over. “What’re you doing?”

  Benz drew Isla close to him, and she felt him stiffen. “Talking to my girlfriend.” His voice dripped ice.

  If looks could kill, Isla would be dead on the spot. No question about that. She’d never had a person give her such a scathing and evil look before. She smiled. “We need to get back to rehearsal.” She let Benz walk her to the stage but felt the daggers shooting from Lexi’s eyes with each step she took. As he helped her up, the loud slam of a door startled her. When she looked out from the platform
, Lexi was gone. Even though satisfaction coursed through her, apprehension pricked at her insides—but for the time being, she pushed it away, picked up the microphone, and belted out the song.

  * * *

  The night had obliterated any lingering light when Isla came out of the recording studio. A cool wind from the mountains made her shiver and her skin pebble. A sprinkling of shimmering stars above illuminated the dark, moonless sky. She tugged her cardigan tighter and glanced around the small parking lot in front of the studio; her car was the only one there. Where the hell is the security? She rushed over to her car and slid in quickly, locking all the windows and doors. She started the engine and pulled onto the two-lane highway. As she approached Alina, silhouettes of cacti, brush, and rock formations turned into moving shadows and shapes, which made her insides twist and churn. There wasn’t a car in sight, and she kept her gaze fixed on the road ahead, occasionally looking at the rearview mirror to make sure no one was following her.

  When Isla saw the lights of the town, she let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding. Relaxing her fingers a bit, she loosened her death-like grip on the steering wheel, shaking out one hand and then the other to get the blood flowing again. Isla took out her phone to call Sangre and ask where the hell the security was but cursed when she saw her battery was dead. She cursed even louder when she realized she’d forgotten to take out the charger from her other purse before she’d left that morning.

  “I’ll just stop in one of the restaurants and use their phone,” she said out loud as she turned down Fifth Avenue. All of a sudden, a loud clanging sound echoed around her. Is that my car? She rolled down the window, and the sound was almost deafening. She stopped the car. No sound. She started it up again, and the noise began. “Dammit! This has been such a shitty day. First the flat tire and now this. Shit!” She pounded the steering wheel. If she could just get to Main Street, there’d be a lot of places still open, and she’d be okay.

  The car bucked as she pressed her foot all the way down on the accelerator pedal, and the vehicle kept slowing down. It was like the gas wasn’t getting to the engine. She glanced at the gas gauge, and it showed she had nearly half a tank full. “What the hell’s wrong?” Then the car died. “Fuck!” Isla switched the key and all she heard were clicking and whirring sounds, but the engine didn’t start. She waited a few minutes then tried again. Nothing. Looking around, she didn’t see any one. Where the hell is my bodyguard? Mark had been there during the rehearsal and when she’d gone into the studio. Who took the next shift? She picked up her dead phone and stared at it like that would make it magically power up. I can’t just stay in the car. Main Street is only a few blocks away. Sighing, she grabbed her tote and got out of the car.

  The street was dark and deserted, the only light coming from sporadic streetlights that filtered through the overhanging branches of the trees on each side of the road. Isla moved quickly through the thin lights and shadows, her knuckles white from clutching the straps of her tote. Looking down the street, it appeared to just melt into the darkness. Isla picked up her pace and pushed onward, her soft footfalls absorbed by the pavement.

  Then a gust of wind surged through the empty street, moaning like some horror movie opener. Trees creaked, bushes sighed, and cans and papers rumbled, bumping into walls and darkened corners. Isla bent her head down to avoid dust getting in her eyes, and then stopped to button up her cardigan. And that’s when she heard it above the wind’s groan: the clack of heels on the pavement behind her. Blood suddenly rushed to her head. She took a few steps then stopped, and the footsteps stopped as well. Swallowing hard, she walked faster and the steps matched her pace. Again, she stopped … Complete silence. No wind … No footfalls … Nothing but a deafening quiet.

  With her body shaking, Isla started walking again, and even though everything inside her told her not to, she looked over her shoulder. Still nothing. No one—just eerie shadows from the trees crisscrossing over the sidewalk and grass. Fear ran through her. Did I imagine it? She didn’t think so. There was someone out there. She felt it. Her eyes darted around trying to make sense of the sinister menace lurking in the shadows, and she picked up her pace while continuously looking back. She began to run, sweat pouring down her back as she turned the corner.

  Sissss. Suddenly, a loud hiss and her high-pitched scream shattered the pervasive silence. She whirled around and tears poured down her face as she saw a bus pull up to the curb beside her. Several people alit as she ran over to the bus.

  “Where’re you going?” she said to the driver.

  “The terminal on Main Street.”

  Putting her foot on the step, she began to climb into the bus when something pulled her back. She cried out, and the driver threw her a puzzling look.

  “You okay, miss?” he asked.

  “Where’re you going?” a low voice said behind her.

  She turned around and met the brown eyes of Jon. “What the hell are you doing? Leave me alone.”

  “Are you coming on, lady?” Impatience wove through the bus driver’s voice.

  “She’s not,” Jon said, pulling Isla away from the door.

  “No!” She tried to break away from him, but his hands were like vices. “Please. No!” She watched the bus pull away, her heart sinking.

  “What’s the matter with you? Sangre wouldn’t like it if I let you go on the bus.”

  “Sangre? You’re the one who’s supposed to be watching me?” When he nodded, fear, anger, and relief blended together to make a volatile mixture. “Where the fuck have you been? You weren’t at the studio, and my car broke down a few blocks from here. I had to walk it alone in the dark. I’m not paying for that kind of service.” People milling on the streets and coming out of restaurants looked at her as if she was a lunatic, and she supposed she was acting like one by cursing and yelling on the sidewalk at a young man who looked like he’d just lost his best friend. But she didn’t give a damn. She’d been scared out of her wits, she was still pissed at Benz, and she was beyond exhausted. All she wanted was to go home and curl up under her comforter and forget about the day.

  “I don’t know why you’re so mad. I’ve been following you the whole time.”

  “You’re lying!”

  For a second, his eyes flashed then they returned to normal. “I’m not.”

  “Then why didn’t you help me when my car broke down?”

  “I tried to, but you jumped out and ran away so fast.”

  She knew what she saw; there wasn’t a car in sight on the street. He’s definitely lying. I know someone was out there. A cold chill spread over her. Why would Sangre have Jon on duty when I told him I didn’t want him? Ever. The guy gives me the creeps. Something’s wrong here.

  “I can take you home. All the mechanic shops are closed, so you can deal with your car in the morning.”

  There was no way she was getting in a car with him. Before she could answer, Carly and Letty came running up to her.

  “Isla!” Carly shouted.

  Startled, she just blinked at the two girls for a moment as nothing registered inside her head.

  “We went to get hamburgers at Hamburger Hamlet. I got a cheeseburger. Did you go there too?” Letty asked.

  “No, I didn’t. So, it was good?” Her stomach growled, and she realized that she hadn’t eaten since early that morning.

  The girls rubbed their tummies and said, “Mmm.” She laughed and looked around wondering where Colt and Faith were. She saw them walking toward her.

  “We better get going,” Jon said.

  “Hi,” she said, waving to Colt and Faith. “Your girls said you’ve been out for burgers.”

  “Yeah. I was so tired after shopping and decorating the lemonade stand that I told Colt the kitchen was closed tonight.” She leaned against her husband.

  “I don’t blame you. Are you guys headed home right now?” Faith nodded. “Can I bum a ride with you? My car broke down a few blocks from here.”

  “You�
��ve had a bad day with car trouble,” Colt said. “We’ll take you home.” “Sangre’s not going to like this,” Jon said in a low voice.

  “These are my neighbors. It’s fine.” I’m definitely safer with them than with you, you lying wacko. “I’ll deal with Sangre.” I’m going to blast him! Without waiting for Jon to say another word, she grabbed each of the girls’ hands and walked away.

  After saying her goodbyes, she went inside and locked the door. A real shitty day. She set the alarm then climbed the stairs to her bedroom. She couldn’t wait to wash off her makeup and put on her comfy pajamas. Her stomach growled, but she was so tired she didn’t even feel like making the trek to the kitchen to make a sandwich.

  A few minutes later, she had her cell phone charging, the night lamp switched off, and the covers pulled back. Happy the day was finally over, she slipped between the sheets, tucked the comforter under her chin, closed her eyes, and welcomed the refuge of sleep.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Sangre tilted back the folding chair until it hit the concrete wall. Church had been going on for over two hours, and he’d grown weary of all the yelling and pounding the brothers kept doing every time someone mentioned the Satan’s Pistons or the Deadly Demons. He figured there would be trouble with the asshole clubs in Sturgis, but with the Insurgents and Fallen Slayers willing to help, he knew the Night Rebels could handle any shit they threw their way.

  “The more immediate problem is with those damn 39th Street punks,” Diablo said.

  “They need to stay the hell in Durango,” Goldie said, and the brothers whooped in agreement.

  “You’d think the Los Malos fucks would be clamoring to do some shit seeing that we wiped out their strip bar in Silverado,” Chains said.

  “They’re pussies now. We cut their balls off,” Paco answered, and the whole brotherhood roared.

  Steel leaned against the wall, laughing, then when the noise died down, he pushed off and looked each brother in the eye. “They think Silverado is open now that the West Avenue Bandits and Los Malos are outta business. They also think each of them double-crossed the other. The Pistons have been itching to establish a smack trade in the south for a long time. There’s no fucking way I’m letting heroin anywhere in this area.”