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

by Chiah Wilder

  “Shit hit the fan at home?” Eagle asked.

  “My woman can be a real bitch sometimes. Right now, I got my phone turned off, and I’m gonna enjoy these pretty ladies showing their tits and asses.” Occasionally, Rooster hooked up with the club girls, and his old lady was cool with it as long as he did it once in a while at parties. He respected that, and as far as Sangre knew, he never strayed with any other women but the club girls.

  “All women can be real bitches. That’s why I’m single.” Army held his fist in the air as Brutus came over. “You can work the door later,” he said to him. Brutus had just started filling-in at Lust a few weeks before. Steel wanted more members working the strip club, and Brutus had been the first one to volunteer when the topic had come up at church.

  As the men talked and drank, Sangre noticed one of the waitresses pushing a guy away from her. He slid off his stool and walked over to see what the problem was. He came up behind her and gently tugged her away from the table.

  “Are these guys giving you a hard time, Capri?”

  “Only this one.” She pointed to the back of a guy with collar-length brown hair.

  Sangre moved in front of the table, his eyes narrowing when he recognized Benz. “The women aren’t here for you to touch. Have some fuckin’ respect.”

  Benz and Arsen stared at him, then recognition flickered over their faces. “Working in a strip joint and shoving tits in customers’ faces for bigger tips is hardly respectable.” Benz cocked his head and picked up his drink. “And why the fuck is this your business?”

  Sangre knocked the drink out of his hand and the glass went flying, crashing against one of the pillars. He leaned over and grabbed Benz by the shirt. “What did I tell you about respect and keeping your fuckin’ mouth shut around me? No one disrespects the women in our club. I’m giving you a choice to walk outta here or get your ass thrown out.”

  “Are you for real?” Benz yanked out of his grip.

  Without a word, Sangre grabbed him and began to drag him out; Benz flailed his arms helplessly.

  “You sonofabitch!” Benz yelled.

  “You need some help with the fucker?” Eagle asked as Sangre dragged the drummer past the bar.

  “I’m good.” Sangre glanced at Arsen, who followed behind, his head turned toward the stage. When Sangre reached the front door, Brutus opened it wide, and Sangre threw Benz onto the sidewalk.

  The musician jumped up and glared at him as he wiped the dust from his tight black jeans. “You’re so fucking pissed that I’m in Isla’s pussy and you’re not.”

  Arsen yanked his friend to him. “Let’s just go, dude. Keep your mouth shut.”

  But it was too late. His words were like red to an angry bull. Sangre rushed out and smashed his fist into Benz’s face, knocking him down.

  “Don’t ever fuckin’ talk about Isla like that, you goddamn asshole!” He kicked him hard in the stomach with his steel-toed boots, and the man groaned and writhed in pain on the ground, as drops of blood spotted the pavement.

  Arsen bent down over his friend then looked up at Sangre. “Enough. Isla won’t be cool if you beat the shit outta our drummer. We have a show next week.”

  Breathing heavily, Sangre stood off to the side, clenching and unclenching his fists. The prick’s right. Isla would be livid if I give this ass wipe the beating he deserves. The way she’d acted when he got into a fight with a stranger at Cuervos told him she’d go ballistic over him kicking her fucking boyfriend’s ass.

  “Get the hell outta here before I change my mind,” he said, gritting his teeth. Arsen helped Benz to his feet, and with his arm wrapped around the drummer’s shoulder, he guided him to the car. Sangre watched as Benz fell into the passenger seat before Arsen took off.

  “What the hell was that all about?” Brutus asked, standing in the doorway.

  “The asshole was giving Capri a hard time. When I called him on it, he disrespected me.”

  Brutus chuckled. “These fuckers never learn. You staying for the Best Tits Contest?”

  Since the club began the weeknight competition, the place was packed. He shook his head. “I think I’ll head out.” The altercation made him think about Isla and how her jerk boyfriend was at the club manhandling a waitress when he should’ve been with her. At that moment, the desire to see her overpowered him. It was like she’d gotten under his skin and made him crave her. It was a new experience for him, and it sent static charges jumping through his body. Just thinking about her made him feel a slight tug in his jeans. The damn douchebag doesn’t fucking deserve her. He knew he should just go back to the clubhouse, but he didn’t want to; he wanted to spend some time with Isla.

  His Harley roared as he left the parking lot and headed to Isla’s house. He wasn’t sure if the ass wipe would be there licking his wounds while Isla smothered his bruised face with her kisses. Anger shot through him as images of her cradling the dirt bag’s head in her lap whirled in his mind.

  When he pulled up in front of Isla’s house, he saw Keith parked in front, and he went over to his car. The bodyguard rolled down the window.

  “How are things?” he asked his employee.

  “Quiet.”

  “No one showed up to see her?”

  “Nope. She’s been inside since I got here. The only thing happening around here is that lemonade stand. The two girls are killin’ it.” He chuckled.

  “Did a fuckin’ badge show up to get some lemonade?”

  Keith nodded slowly. “Come to think of it, a cop did come by and buy a glass. He kept looking at Ms. Rose’s house even after he’d finished drinking. I didn’t think anything about it. I just figured he was keeping an eye on her. Should I watch out for him?”

  “Yeah. Let me know how often he comes by. If he ever starts to go up to her house, call me. I don’t want him getting into the house with her.”

  “Noted. Are you taking over?”

  “I’m not sure. I’ll let you know in a bit.” Sangre turned away and walked up the sidewalk. Ringing the doorbell several times, he grew concerned. Keith didn’t see her leave, so she must be inside. Why the hell isn’t she answering? The notion that she didn’t want to see him crossed his mind, but he dismissed it and rang the bell again. He was ready to go around back and try and break in when he heard light footfalls approaching.

  The door swung open and Isla, looking delectable in shorts and a tank top, stood staring at him.

  “Hey,” he said, opening the screen door. He brushed past her, and the wicked scent of her perfume made him want to throw her against the wall and kiss her hard as he shoved her shorts down and slipped his finger inside.

  “What do you want?” She closed the door and followed him into the living room.

  “My mom said you told Rachel you were coming for Sunday supper. I just wanted to confirm that with you.”

  “You couldn’t just phone?”

  “Why? Don’t you want to see me?”

  “You ghosted me, so I guess the answer is no.” She went over to the window and stared out. Isla was in a funk, and he didn’t think it was entirely because he’d disappeared from the radar for a few days.

  Sangre went over to the wet bar and knelt down, taking out small bottles of booze and reading their labels.

  “What do you want? Whiskey, vodka, rum, or gin?”

  “A rum and Coke would be good. Wait, did I drink all of the Coke?”

  “One left.” He pulled it out and stopped when he heard the song that was playing. Looking over his shoulder, he saw her leaning against the window staring out. “What happened?”

  She glanced sideways and gave him a questioning look.

  He stood up holding four small bottles and a can of Coke in his large hands. “You used to only play Journey songs when something shitty was happening.”

  She faced him. “My life doesn’t have to be in a state of chaos to listen to Journey.”

  He put the bottles down on the coffee table and walked toward her. “Yeah, it does
. Do you wanna talk about it?”

  Turning back around, she stared out the window again. “Maybe I’m just in a nostalgic mood.” She pressed her head against the glass.

  As Sangre watched her, “Don’t Stop Believin’” filled the silence between them. He knew her too well. The summer between fifth and sixth grade, he’d talked her into climbing Mr. Wilson’s oak tree as high as she could. He couldn’t believe how well she’d done it and how brave she’d been when she lowered herself down the fire department’s ladder an hour later. After that, his admiration for her grew tenfold.

  He grabbed one of the glasses on the table. Isla turned her head slightly when the ice clinked in the glass. He unscrewed the bottle of rum, poured it, and then popped open the can of Coke. “I happen to remember that Journey is on your ‘Life Can Really Suck’ playlist.” He walked over and handed her the drink.

  Her shoulders slumped forward as she brought the glass to her lips and took a big gulp. Tilting her head back, she closed her eyes. “Okay. I found out Benz is fucking Lexi.”

  Sangre blew out. “That really sucks.” I should’ve beaten the shit outta the prick.

  “It’s not that I care so much about it, it’s more the satisfied look she had on her face when I walked in on them going at it in the studio’s bathroom. I mean, lock the damn door at least, you know?” She took another sip of her drink. “The thing that sucks more than the humiliation of it all is that I don’t seem to really care. What’s wrong with me? I’ve known Benz for almost seven years, been his girlfriend for over a year, and I can’t even cry about finding him screwing a woman I’ve despised since high school. I can’t even get pissed about it the way I should.”

  He put his drink down and came over to her, placing his hands on her shoulders. “Nothing’s wrong with you. The fucker never deserved you, and the inner you knows it.”

  “But you’d think I’d feel sad or mad or upset or something. I’m just nothing. Maybe it’s because I was planning on breaking up with him. I don’t know. How do you feel after a break up?”

  “Kinda like you. I mean, I feel bad for the woman, but I don’t think about it afterwards. I see it as just another blip on the timeline of my life. It’s fun, and then it’s not.”

  She groaned and tilted her head back. “What’s wrong with us?”

  “Nothing. We just haven’t found the right person.” A comfortable silence fell between them as they listened to the vocals of Steve Perry. When the song ended, Sangre stood up. “I’m taking you somewhere that’ll get your mind off all this shit. Grab a sweater or hoodie. We’re going for a ride.”

  “Where too?” A sparkle lit up her eyes.

  “You’ll see.”

  As she ran upstairs to change her clothes, Sangre went outside to talk with Keith.

  “Hi, Sangre,” the woman next door said while she helped a man fold down the lemonade stand.

  “Hey.” He’d forgotten her name and saw the man struggling with the booth. “Need some help?”

  The guy looked up and shook his head. “Thanks, but I’ve got it.” The two girls started doing cartwheels and somersaults on the grass.

  “You have a beautiful motorcycle,” the woman said walking toward him.

  “Thanks.” Not wanting to engage in chitchat, he turned around and headed over to Keith. Sangre, like most of the Night Rebels MC members, didn’t like talking to citizens; doing so, just for the sake of talking, was definitely something he didn’t do. The woman caught on and slowly walked back to her front yard.

  “You can take off,” Sangre told Keith. “I’ll pay you for the three hours. Grab yourself a beer and relax for the rest of the night.”

  “Cool. Thanks, Sangre.”

  As he watched Keith drive off, he heard the clack of footsteps behind him. The scent of Isla surrounded him before he turned around, and he smiled. She’d changed into jeans and a floral tank top, but he averted his gaze from her because he didn’t want his dick to get any ideas before they even pulled away from the curb.

  “Are you going for a ride?” the woman next door asked.

  “We are. It looks like Carly and Letty are closing up shop.”

  “Colt’s trying to fold the stand, but it’s not working. I don’t know what’s wrong with it.”

  “Why doesn’t he just pick the fuckin’ thing up without folding it? They put the damn stand up every day,” Sangre said to Isla.

  Isla smacked his arm lightly. “They’ll hear you. Faith’s real sensitive about stuff like that, even if someone’s kidding.”

  “I’m not joking. The guy’s a bonehead.”

  She giggled as she climbed on behind him. “You’re so bad.” She tugged his hair and pressed close to him, making his dick stir.

  “Have fun,” Faith said, waving.

  “How the hell do you stand all that friendliness?” he asked, moving forward.

  “Faith’s really nice. I think she’s desperate for adult conversation. Colt works a lot of hours, and I’d think being at home with the kids all the time would get a bit boring. I’ve volunteered to babysit, but they’ve only taken me up on it a couple of times.”

  “That’s why I live at the club—No citizens around. NO nosy neighbors. NO fuckin’ perkiness and … NO idiots who keep folding and unfolding a damn stand each day. The thing is cheaply made so no wonder it’s starting to break.”

  She laughed. “This really pisses you off, doesn’t it?”

  “I don’t have any patience with stupid people, dumb questions, or a million other things.”

  “Do you have patience with me?” Her breath was warm against his ear. The bike vibrated as they waited for the light to change green.

  “You’re in a class all of your own. Rules I have about other people never apply to you. You’re different.”

  “I like hearing that.” The light changed, and the bike jerked forward. “Oh! I didn’t expect that,” she said, squeezing her arms tighter around him.

  I could get used to this. It felt good to have her soft body molding against his.

  When they finally left civilization, he picked up speed, making wisps of her hair stroke his face. She planted her cheek on his upper back, and her scent swirled around him, driving him wild with desire. She needs my friendship not my cock. When he thought about it, it made sense, but his dick didn’t think so. It was growing harder each time her hands slipped dangerously close, or she pressed tighter against him. It was killing him.

  Concentrate on the scenery. The desert held a special calming effect over him. He loved it as much as the mountains and took every chance he could to ride through it. It was humbling to be surrounded by such beauty on such a large scale; it grounded him, pulling him away from the violent world in which he lived a lot of the time.

  The road shimmered in the haze as the sun blazed down. Above, strands of gossamer clouds streaked the blue sky like spider webs. Parched ground, sagebrush, and telephone poles whirled past them. Lizards skittered across the sand seeking refuge under the shade of red-colored rocks. Up ahead, crows swarmed a roadkill; their sharp beaks tore at the flesh while above, more of them cawed, their iridescent black wings beating the air as they swooped down on the carcass.

  In the distance, the San Juan Mountains pierced the sky, and after a long while, Sangre turned left and made his way up a steep road, leaving the desert behind them. When they reached the hilltop, he shut off the engine.

  “Chaco Canyon!” Isla scrambled off the Harley and threw her arms around him. “Thank you. Thank you for remembering,” she whispered in his ear, her warm breath tickling his neck.

  He held her tight. “How could I forget all the times we spent here before you left me? This was our go-to place when life got to be too shitty. You need this.”

  “You’re the best,” she murmured against his shirt. She pulled away and put her hand over her eyes to shield them from the sun. “It’s just stunning here. You don’t know how I missed coming here and all our times together. I can’t believe I’m back.
”

  Sangre shrugged off his cut and laid it on the seat of the bike then opened one of the saddlebags and took out a blanket. Walking over to a cluster of pine trees, he felt happier than he had in a very long time. “Come over here in the shade,” he said, spreading the blanket down on the ground.

  “In a sec. I just want to take it all in.” She went to the edge of the mountain and pointed. “Is that for real?”

  He went over to her and looked down: A narrow bridge hung on seemingly translucent cables, curving over a frothing gorge below the steep rock walls. “You want to go down there and cross the bridge?”

  “No way. It looks too scary. Have you ever been on it?”

  “No. It was put up a few years ago.”

  “So, you come here often?”

  “Not really. I love it here, but there are some other places I love too that are closer, so I usually go there.”

  “You’ll have to show me your secret places. I’m sure the women are impressed when you bring them up here.” She smiled.

  “You’re the only woman who has been here with me.” She grasped his hand and squeezed it then let go and walked over to blanket. She patted the space next to her, and he went over and sat down. For several minutes they sat in silence, taking in the scenery and enjoying being there together.

  “Do you want a beer or something?” he asked, breaking the stillness.

  She laughed, and the softness of it mingled with the small breeze rustling the pine branches. “Do you always have beer with you?”

  “Mostly. Water too. One of my saddlebags has a cooler liner. I had it custom made.”

  “That’s awesome. Sitting here with you now seems like we’re back in high school, like all this time didn’t pass by. It’s nice.”

  “Do you miss LA?”

  “Yes and no. I miss the ocean for sure. I live right on the beach. I lucked out and found this amazing condo that didn’t cost me a fortune to rent. It’s tiny, but my front yard is the ocean, and I can never get enough of watching it. When I suck in the briny air, it’s like an elixir to me. I can stand for hours on my balcony just gazing at the white-tipped waves roll in and spread like fine lace over the beach after they crash in their soft way.” She pulled at a loose thread in the blanket. “But I don’t miss anything else about LA. If I could just stay on that balcony, I’d be good, but I can’t. The last few months have been wonderful in Alina. I like the slow-paced life, the congeniality of my neighbors, and the sense of community. All of that gets lost in the shuffle of a big city.”