Rebelonging (Unbelonging, Book 2)

by Sabrina Stark

  The guy lifted both hands, extending both middle fingers. "Fuck off, asshole!" he yelled. "I'm not showing you dick!"

  The nearest cop grabbed him by the shoulder and hustled him toward the police car. A moment later, he and his friend were shoved unceremoniously into the backseat. The car door slammed behind both of them with a decisive thud.

  "Why would I want to see his dick?" Shaggy said. "God, what a dumb-ass." He held out his cell phone and started circling the vandalized sedan, stopping every few seconds to zoom in on something or other.

  Nearby, the rest of us watched as the police cruiser pulled slowly out of the lot, leaving the tow truck driver to deal with the defaced sedan.

  I never did see the guys' faces. But unlike Shaggy, I didn't want to.

  But there was someone I wanted to see. And probably not in the way he wanted.

  As I stood shivering in the cold parking lot, an even colder rage settled over me. I hated drama. For years, I'd been trying to escape it – the drunk-ass mom, the psycho stepmother, a dad who was indifferent at best.

  Even tonight, I'd forced myself to walk away, not just from Lawton, but from the chance to give him hell for what he'd done. And he had done plenty.

  So what does he do? He brings drama literally to the doorstep of where I worked. What the hell was he thinking? Did the guy think at all?

  I looked around. He had to be here somewhere. I just knew it.

  Maybe I hadn't given him what he deserved earlier, but I sure as hell wasn't going to miss the opportunity now.

  That fucker had earned a piece of my mind. And drama or not, it was time to give it to him.

  Chapter 10

  Away from the heat of the closely packed bodies, the temperature dropped hard. But I barely noticed as I stalked through the parking lot. Methodically, I went from row to row in search of Lawton's vehicle, whichever one he might be driving tonight.

  Near the restaurant, the crowd was already breaking up, with most of the gawkers straggling back into the diner, chattering to each other as they went. The few exceptions fanned out into the parking lot, where they got into their vehicles and drove off one by one.

  As for me, I wasn't going anywhere. If Lawton was here, I'd sure as hell find him.

  Finally, I spotted what I was looking for. In the very back row, there it was, Lawton's vintage muscle car. I was no car expert, but I'd recognize that thing anywhere.

  Its bold, masculine lines screamed pure power -- just like its super-charged engine, and just like its owner.

  The car was one-of-a-kind. From what Lawton told me, he had restored it himself, taking months to get every detail just perfect.

  I still didn't get it. Why would he do such a thing? If I had that kind of money, I'd just buy something fantastic and be done with it.

  But then again, I wasn't a car buff. And besides, I could barely check my oil.

  I would've spotted the car sooner, except for a tight grouping of tall vehicles in the previous row. Was Lawton hoping to hide? If so, he was going about it all wrong. If he didn't want to be noticed, he should've driven a different car.

  I stalked up to the car and rapped against the driver's side window. When it slid down, I felt my lips purse in annoyance.

  It wasn't even Lawton. It was his dick of a brother.

  He studied me with a marked lack of enthusiasm. "Can I help you?" he said.

  I glared down at him. "Where's your brother?"

  "Which one?"

  "Oh, cut the crap," I said. "You know which one."

  "My guess? He's out looking for you."

  "Nice story," I said. "But I saw him earlier. And then he disappeared. So he sure as hell isn't looking for me."

  "Yeah? You check your car lately?"

  My car was in the back parking lot. Actually, I hadn't checked. But that was beside the point. I knew the brush-off when I saw it.

  "You know what?" I said. "You two are assholes. You know that, right?"

  He shrugged. "Pretty much."

  "Those guys in the trunk? You brought them here, didn't you?"

  "Well, they sure as hell didn't drive themselves, if that was your other theory."

  "Why here?" I demanded.

  "Hey, it wasn't my idea."

  "You dick," I said. "I'm gonna lose my job over this."

  He glanced briefly toward the restaurant. "Doubtful."

  "Listen." My voice rose. "I don’t give a shit what you idiots think! I'll get fired just as soon as those guys tell the cops I was involved somehow. Word'll get back to the restaurant, and I'll be out on my ass before morning."

  Bishop looked unimpressed. "Look," he said, "I admitted to being an asshole. And possibly a dick –"

  "Which you are," I said.

  "Yeah. But idiot? Now you're just reaching. Here." He motioned me closer. "Lemme give you a hint."

  I didn't budge.

  He continued anyway. "If you wanna insult someone," he said, "you've gotta have an element of truth. Otherwise, it's just a waste. You end up looking stupid." He grinned. "So who's the idiot now?"

  "Oh for God's sake!" I yelled. "Will you just stop already!"

  "Hey!" An all-too-familiar voice sounded just behind me. "What the hell are you doing to her?"

  I whirled around. And there he was, close enough to touch, close enough to kick.

  Lawton.

  Breathless, I stared up at him, trying to recall all the insults I'd been practicing in my head. But my brain was worse than empty. Instead of coherent thoughts, it contained a jumbled pile of nonsense, like someone had shredded a crossword puzzle and scattered it at my feet.

  As my brain churned, I tried not to notice Lawton's absolute perfection, those stormy eyes, his chiseled jaw, a body to die for. But one thing about Lawton, he was impossible to ignore.

  Chapter 11

  He was giving Bishop a murderous glare. "Answer me!" he said.

  Behind me, I heard the car door open. I turned around to see Bishop slowly getting out of the car. Automatically, I moved to the side. Bishop shut the door behind him and tossed Lawton the keys.

  As if by reflex, Lawton snagged them in mid-air.

  Bishop turned toward the restaurant. He started walking.

  "Hey!" Lawton called after him. "Where do you think you're going?"

  Bishop didn't turn around, but his voice carried across the cool night air. "To get a burger, beer – hell, a cab, I dunno. You guys work it out. I'll catch you later."

  "Hey!" I cupped my hands around my mouth and hollered "There's nothing to work out, dipshit!"

  No reaction. No twitch. No hesitation. No nothing. I glared at his receding back. That jerk. He must've heard me. He was just like his brother, maddening beyond description. I wanted to scream.

  Next to me, I heard Lawton's amused voice. "Did you just call him a dipshit?"

  I whirled to face him. "You think it's funny?"

  He raised his hands in mock surrender. "Nope. Not me."

  "Then why are you smiling?" I said. "God, you are such a—" I shook my head. "I don't even know what to call you."

  His smile faded. Slowly, his gaze traveled the length of me as if cataloguing my body parts, as a doctor, not a lover.

  "You're okay?" His voice caught. "You look okay." He reached for my hand. "But what are you doing here? Shouldn't you be home?" He visibly swallowed. "In bed or something?"

  I yanked my hand away. "Oh, because some psycho locked me in his basement?" I laughed, a foreign, hysterical sound. "No big deal. Happens to me all the time. Life goes on, right?"

  His face crumpled. "Baby–"

  "I already told you, don't call me that." I pointed toward the restaurant. "So why'd you do this here? You want me to lose my job? Is that it?"

  "No. I get it. You love this job. I know that."

  "Oh yeah. That's why I'm working here. Because I love it soooo much."

  His eyebrows furrowed. "You don't?"

  "Hell no," I said. "But I still don't want to get fired." I re
ached up to rub my temples. "I can only imagine what those two guys from the trunk are saying right about now." I closed my eyes. "God, what a nightmare."

  "They're not saying anything," Lawton said.

  I opened my eyes to look at him. "What are you? Some kind of mind-reader? Admit it, you don't know squat."

  "I know one thing," he said. "They won't talk."

  "Why?" I said. "Because they're too afraid that I'll talk too? Yeah, like that's gonna happen."

  "What do you mean?"

  "I mean," I said, "that I don't want to get dragged into some police station." My voice rose. "I don't want to be sitting there all night, telling my pathetic story of how they tried to drag me into a car and –" I let the sentence trail off. What had they been planning to do, anyway?

  "Hey, don't worry," Lawton said. "Nobody's dragging you anywhere. They won't talk. And you won't have to either."

  "How can you be sure?"

  Lawton's voice was quiet. "Because they know better. They're not gonna say one word about you."

  I glared up at him. "Yeah? How do you know?"

  "Because if they do," he said, "they'll find themselves dropped off someplace worse next time."

  My gaze narrowed. "What next time?"

  Lawton shrugged. "Depends on them."

  Tonight, they'd been dropped off in a crowded public place. There'd been people and police and even some paparazzi club wannabe. I looked around. "What could possibly be worse than this?"

  His face hardened. "My old neighborhood."

  From the look on his face, I didn't have to guess what kind of place it was. I didn't want to think about it. I didn't want to talk about it either.

  "So answer me this," I said. "Why, of all places, did you bring them here, where I work?"

  "You wanna know why?" he said. "Because this is exactly where they were gonna drop you."

  I felt my forehead crease. "What?"

  "Yeah," Lawton said, an edge creeping into his voice. "They were gonna strip you down to your bra and panties and dump you right here. In this parking lot." His jaw tensed. "Want to know what they called it? A prank. Just a fucking prank."

  "Seriously?" I said. "That's all they were gonna do?" Compared to what I'd feared, yeah, it sucked. But it wasn't half as bad as the other scenarios that had run through my mind.

  "All?" he said. "Isn't that enough?" He made a strangled sound deep in his throat. "God, Chloe. They hurt you. They scared you."

  "Yeah." I gave him a hard look. "And they weren't the only ones, now were they?"

  "No." His voice was quiet. "They weren't."

  "So what was all this?" I said. "Your idea of justice?"

  "Something like that." His gaze bored into mine. "We did exactly to them what they were gonna do to you. Seemed fair enough."

  "Fair?" I made a scoffing sound. "Yeah, but you didn't stop there, did you?"

  "What do you mean?"

  "I mean," I said, "that you also beat the crap out of them. And, you ruined their car. So it wasn't exactly an eye for an eye, was it? "

  He gave me an incredulous look. "You're sticking up for them?"

  Was I? In truth, those guys got exactly what they deserved. And I sure as hell didn't feel sorry for them. But if Lawton was expecting me to run into his arms just because he delivered some well-deserved payback, he had another thing coming.

  Tonight, a handful of people had suffered. Me. Those guys. But as far as I could tell, one person who hadn't suffered one single bit was Lawton. After what he did, not to those guys, but to me, he didn't deserve my understanding. And he sure as hell didn't deserve some kind of hero's welcome.

  So, was I sticking up for those guys? Did it matter? I shrugged.

  "You are serious. Aren't you?" he said. "After what they did to you? You think that's alright?" He turned to glare across the parking lot. "Because I'm not gonna lie to you, Chloe. I'd do it again in a heartbeat. And if they ever pull that crap again, especially with you, they're not gonna get off so light."

  I gave him a smirk. "So they got off light, huh? Well, what about you?"

  "What about me?"

  "You got off lightest of all, didn't you? Look." I pointed directly at his chest. "You're fine. Not a scratch on you, is there?" I turned toward his car and pointed again. "And look. Your car's fine too." I turned to face him. "Seriously, what has any of this cost you?"

  "Chloe." His voice was very quiet. "It's cost me everything."

  "Yeah." I rolled my eyes. "Right."

  "Everything that matters."

  "You know what?" I said. "That's real easy for you to say." My voice rose. "Me? I'm an inch away from losing my job. Those guys, they got their car trashed. But you? This has cost you nothing." I took a step closer. "Nothing!"

  With an anguished expression, he reached out for me. I slapped his arms aside. "So who's gonna kick your ass? Who's gonna get you fired? Who's gonna trash your car?"

  "You want someone to kick my ass?" He threw up his hands. "Go ahead. I'd welcome it."

  "Sure you would."

  "Think I'm lying? You think I don't know that I deserve it?"

  "Yeah? Well, words are cheap." I turned to go.

  "Wait," he said.

  I stopped. "For what?"

  "Proof."

  Chapter 12

  As I watched, he strode toward the back of his car. He popped the trunk and rummaged inside. A moment later, he slammed it with a thud.

  He emerged with an old-fashioned tire iron. He held it out in his open palms. "Here," he said.

  I glanced down. "What would I want with that?"

  "Take it." His eyes met mine. "And hit me."

  "Oh shut up," I said. "I don't want to hit you."

  "Alright," he said. "Get someone else. Have them do it."

  Not too long ago, I'd fantasized about such a thing. And here it was, the chance to make it a reality. This was just my luck. A fantasy comes true, and it's not even a good one.

  I shook my head. I should've fantasized about winning the lottery.

  He glanced toward the restaurant. "Go ahead, find someone. I'll wait."

  "Oh c'mon, you can't be serious."

  "Why not?" His voice was raw. "I deserve it. Just like you said."

  "You are seriously messed up. You know that, right?"

  "Hell yes, I know it! You think I'm liking myself right now? You think I don't know that I deserve an ass-beating? You think I don't wish it was me 'suffering,', as you say?"

  From the look on his face, he was suffering plenty. Fearless, that's what he was. But looking at him now, he looked almost terrified, like the ship was sinking, and the last lifeboat was filling up fast. I wanted to rescue him. And I wanted to throw him overboard.

  Damn it, Chloe. Just stop. I wrapped my arms tight around my body, both for warmth and to keep myself from melting into him. Or slapping him silly. Or both.

  There was a word for how he made me feel.

  Psychotic.

  Just like him.

  "Alright, here's the deal," I said. "You –" I lifted a hand to point at his chest "– need to stay the hell away from me. Stay away from where I work. Stay away from where I'm living. And stay away from anywhere else you think I might be."

  "Chloe–"

  "You already said that."

  "Please." His voice was ragged, and he moved toward me, slowly, like he knew he shouldn't but couldn't seem to make himself stop.

  I raised my voice. "I mean it."

  He stopped, his expression anguished, but his body rigid. The muscles in his forearms were coiled masses of restrained force matched only by the look of absolute control that slowly settled over his face.

  "Chloe, please. Hit me. Yell at me. Do something." His voice choked. "Anything but this."

  My heart twisted at the sight of him. But I couldn't afford to let him know that. Not after what he'd done. And I couldn't afford to encourage him either. This had to be over, once and for all.

  "You heard me," I said, turning to go.


  "Chloe." It was an odd, strangled sound. "Wait. Please."

  Slowly, I turned back to face him. "For what?"

  "I know what you're thinking," he said.

  I crossed my arms. "I seriously doubt that."

  "I can see it all over your face. You're thinking talk is cheap."

  "So?"

  "So you don't want someone to beat my ass? I get that. But you want me to pay, am I right?"

  I shrugged.

  "Believe me, Chloe. I want to pay."

  Oh God, he wasn't going to offer me money, was he? Lord knows I could use it. But the whole idea made me just a little bit sick.

  I recalled him peeling off those hundreds for Brittney. It had happened that first time I'd been inside his house. Officially, the money was payment for a destroyed purse. Unofficially, it felt like something a whole lot different. I'd seen the look in his eye when she'd taken the cash.

  It wasn't so much a judgment as a dismissal, like she'd lived down to his expectations, and he didn't give a crap one way or another.

  But my integrity, it wasn't for sale. "I don't want your money," I said.

  "I know."

  "You don't know anything," I said.

  "I know you want something else."

  "Oh yeah?" I said. "What's that?"

  "This." He shifted his grip on the tire iron. He took one long stride toward his car. Before I could digest what was happening, he bashed it against the windshield, leaving a cracked, spider-web pattern on the formerly smooth glass.

  "What the hell are you doing?" I yelled.

  As an answer, he raised the iron again and smashed it against the side view mirror. Another hard blow, and the mirror hit the pavement, breaking on impact.

  I dove toward him and grabbed his elbow. "Don't!"

  Slowly, he turned to face me. "Why?"

  "Because it's stupid!" I was shaking as I looked at the destruction. Oh my God. His car. His beautiful car. I didn't know how much it was worth, money-wise, but I knew exactly what it meant to him personally.

  "Isn't this the kind of justice you wanted?" he said. "My car trashed? That's what you said, wasn't it?"

  "No!" I gripped his elbow tighter. "This isn't what I wanted."

  "Well, I do." Gently, he removed my hand from his elbow. "Because, Chloe, let me tell you something. Compared to you, this car means nothing to me."