Defy You: A Brother's Best Friend/Age Gap Romance (Rebel Ink Book 3)

by Tracy Lorraine

  Biff goes both afternoons while we’re all working and talks to her about starting at the studio. She might have only just started being trained up herself by Zach, but she knows the basics and can talk Kas through the process. I’m happy if it means I don’t have to do it.

  I’ve yet to come up with how I’m going to get out of being her mentor, but with each day that passes, I know my time is coming to an end. Zach was out this afternoon—I can only assume he’s got the money Kas needs and this is all about to come to an end.

  I’m glad; she doesn’t need this hanging over her head any longer than necessary. But equally, it’s going to mean she’s leaving soon. And although she might have spent the past forty-eight hours avoiding me, I can’t deny that I’m going to miss her when she moves on.

  I shake my head at my thoughts as a knock sounds out on my studio door.

  “Boss wants us all upstairs,” Titch says when he pushes the door open a little.

  “On it.”

  I drop the pencil in my hand and push back the sketch I was working on before following him up the stairs to the flat Zach and Biff share.

  Biff’s nowhere to be seen—not that it’s a surprise. She’ll be on her afternoon babysitting visit. Plus, I know that Zach doesn’t want her anywhere near any of this. I can tell by the tense look on both his and D’s face that shit’s about to get real.

  I’ve had a fair bit of drama in my life, starting with my mum fucking off and leaving me in the care of my grandparents and then the one who shan’t be named shattering the life I thought I was going to have, but all of that pales in comparison to this.

  This shit is the stuff movies are made of, not our lives. Well, maybe D’s at times, but not the rest of us. We spend our days inking the people of London and mostly get on with our fairly mundane lives.

  Zach looks between Titch and I and a ball of dread settles in my stomach. What the fuck is this motherfucker planning?

  “Sit,” he demands.

  “Zach, what the fuck are you doing?” I ask. Possibly naïvely, I assumed we’d give this fucker the money he’s owed and just put it behind us. But the hunger for vengeance oozing from Zach tells me otherwise.

  “This ends tonight.”

  I swallow down the anxiety that statement drags up and look to D.

  He’s one scary motherfucker when he’s angry, and right now the muscle in his neck is pulsating with the need to hurt someone.

  “What the fuck?” Titch barks, clearly having similar thoughts to me.

  “Kas is going to take this guy his money tonight.”

  “Kas is doing it?” I ask, shocked that Zach is going to let her anywhere near that fucker.

  “Yeah, she’s the one who owes him. He wants it from her.”

  “You’ve spoken to him?”

  “No. Kas has.”

  “What?” I bark. “You let her contact him?”

  “What the fuck else am I meant to do? She’s the one he wants, not any of us,” Zach says, his own concern becoming obvious in his tone.

  “So why the hell are we here right now?”

  “We’ve got a few hours yet. Calm down. I’ve got the address in my phone. We’re going to follow her there, let shit go down, and then get her the hell out of there. Safe.”

  “Have you got a fucking death wish?”

  “No. D’s brother has it covered.”

  I drop my head into my hand. This is a fucking dream right? This isn’t actually my life right now? “So why the fuck are we going?”

  “For Kas.”

  “If they see us, she might not be alive for us to rescue.” All the blood drains from his face at my words. “This guy isn’t playing, Zach. It’s not a fucking game.”

  “I know that. I fucking know that,” he says, scrubbing his hand down his face. “Cruz has it under control,” he says, and I look at D. I know Cruz is his brother, but right now I’m not feeling much like trusting anyone.

  D nods. “They’ve had this guy in their sights for a while. He’s been dealing on their patch. They’ve been waiting for the right opportunity to meet with him.”

  “Fucking hell. What is this?” I ask, tipping my face to the ceiling in disbelief. If I knew that pulling Kas from that stage that night would drag me right into the centre of a drug lord/MC battle, then I might have had second thoughts about it.

  Who am I kidding, there was no chance of me allowing her to stay up there any longer than she already had.

  “We’re not doing anything other than getting her out safely. Cruz’s boys will sort everything else.”

  My eyes bounce between Zach and D’s.

  D’s connection to the Royal Reapers isn’t a secret. Hell, there’s at least one of them in here daily to get some more ink, but he always stays at arm’s length from that life. He has too much to lose to get involved. Well, that’s what he’s always told us, anyway.

  Cruz, on the other hand, is a fully-fledged member along with their father.

  I’ve heard D talk about that life, time and time again, and it always sounds like he’s talking about another world, or at least a film he watched.

  “When and where?” I say after a long silence. I might not be totally okay with all of this, but at the end of the day, it’s for Kas. And for her, I’m realising, I’ll do more than I would for most.

  “Kas is meeting Jet at eight,” D says without looking at me. He’s got his eyes trained on his phone. “I’ve just sent you the address. Zach’s right. We’re not doing a fucking thing. We’re just going to collect her and get the fuck out of there. This is Cruz’s battle, not ours.”

  “Are you actually going to pay this motherfucker?”

  “The less you know the better.”

  “Jesus.”

  “Biff’s rearranged our late appointments, but we will be back here on Saturday like nothing ever happened. Kas too, if she’s up for it. Drink?” he asks, placing a bottle of whisky on the table in front of both him and D as if this is just a usual Friday afternoon.

  “Does Kas know what’s going on?”

  D’s eyes finally lift to mine. “No. She doesn’t need the details.”

  I nod back at him before taking the glass when Zach holds it out for me.

  With it in hand, I rest back in the chair and knock it back in one. It burns, but fuck do I need it right now.

  The silence surrounding us is heavy. Zach might say all the right words and trust D with his life—hell, we all do—but saying it and having it actually happen are two different things.

  17

  Kas

  My hands tremble as I stare down at my phone.

  Unknown: A car will pick you up at 7:45. Get in it.

  I look at the other unread message I have from Jodie. My thumb hovers over it, but I fight my need to reach out. If she senses something is wrong, then she’ll start trying to talk me out of it. But this needs to happen. It needs to come to an end.

  Well, if that isn’t the most ominous message I’ve ever received, I don’t know what is.

  The black bag that Zach dropped off earlier taunts me from beside the dresser where I dropped it. My fingers twitched to unzip it and see exactly what that amount of money looked like, but I didn’t. I trust Zach. He’s my brother. But if I were to open that and not find a stash of cash, then I don’t know what I would do. At least while I’m in ignorant bliss believing that it’s what Jet wants, I can act innocent.

  I shower, dress, blow dry my hair, and apply my makeup, but I do all of it in a daze. Part of me expects the message to be a hoax and that someone will come crashing through the door any minute.

  I’m not stupid. I know the chances of Jet taking that bag and letting me go scot-free are slim.

  Two minutes before my pick-up time, I give myself one final once-over in the mirror.

  My makeup is dark, my lips bright red. It might mean nothing to Jet, but it’s my fuck-you makeup. It makes me feel powerful and in control.

  I glance down at myself. It’s been a sco
rching hot summer day, but there was no way I was dressing for the weather. I don’t want to give Jet any ideas by wearing a short skirt or exposing too much skin—not that motherfuckers like him wait for any kind of invitation to take what they want.

  I should know, he’s tried.

  Shoving my feet into my biker boots to finish off my dark, edgy look, I pick up the incredibly heavy bag and head for the door.

  The flat is unbearably empty. I kind of hoped Spike would be home for this to make sure I’m okay. I’m not sure if his presence would have made this any easier.

  Seeing him, knowing what we had for those few hours, it’s fucking torture. Almost as painful as his closed-off attitude and general arseholeness ever since.

  It’s stupid, but I miss him.

  It may have only been a couple of days, but I miss the man I was able to have a laugh with, who didn’t take life too seriously. Not to mention his stupidly handsome face, the way his eyes softened whenever he looked at me. Like I was someone important, someone worthy.

  I’ve always just been a means to an end to most people, my mother included. It was nice to feel special for once, even if he was only protecting me as a favour for Zach.

  “Hi, Kas. How are you?” Louisa asks the second my foot hits the ground floor.

  Glancing out the window, I see a black car pull up.

  Fuck. Fuck.

  “I’m good, thanks. I’m just off for a night out. Meeting a friend,” I lie, hoping that she’ll let me go.

  “Aw, that sounds nice. I’m jealous. Since having this one, I can’t remember the last time I went out without him, let alone a night with the girls.”

  “You should get Spike to babysit one night, go and have some fun.”

  I move to the door, but she still doesn’t let me escape.

  “You think he would? I’ve wanted to ask, but I didn’t want to look like an idiot if he said no.”

  “All you can do is try,” I say, my fingers wrapping around the door handle, ready to make my escape before I piss off whomever is waiting for me.

  “I guess you’re right. The next time I see him, I’ll ask.”

  “Go for it. I’m sorry, I really need to…” I gesture over my shoulder, and her smile drops.

  “Oh, I’m so sorry. You go. Have a great night.”

  “Thank you. Y-you too,” I say with a wince as I take in her dirty shirt and the equally dirty kid attached to her hip.

  “We had beans for dinner,” she says as an excuse for the mess.

  With a nod of acceptance, I push through the door and hotfoot it toward the idling car.

  “You’re late,” a deep voice barks the second I pull the door open.

  I don’t bother responding. These aren’t the kind of guys who accept a simple ‘I’m sorry’ and move on. And I’m proved right when I climb in and immediately get backhanded across the face by the guy sitting on the other side.

  He reaches out and pulls me across the seats before the door slams shut behind me.

  “Do you want your fucking money or not?” I spit, lifting my hand to where the prick just split my lip open again.

  “Shut your mouth, bitch.”

  Rolling my eyes, I slide as far away from him as I can and keep my stare on the passing buildings.

  I try to memorise where he takes me, but we’re soon in an area I don’t recognise, and I know I have no hope of making a smooth escape.

  I don’t bother glancing up at the goons up front. I don’t need to. I can feel the passenger’s stare drilling into me through the rearview mirror.

  Without looking, I flip him off, much to the shock and amusement of the guy next to me.

  “No wonder Jet loves you so much. Feisty little bitch, aren’t you?”

  “Bite me.”

  “With fucking pleasure, sweetheart. Only, Jet made us promise not to touch. It seems he wants a piece of you first.”

  My stomach rolls. “The only thing that cunt is getting from me is what’s in the bag. Then I’m out.”

  An evil chuckle falls from him. “Yeah, that’s what they all think, sweetheart. Jet will get a nice little price for you.” His fingertip runs down my arm, and I flinch away.

  “Get your fucking hands off me.” I turn to him, my teeth bared in warning, and the fucker just laughs in my face.

  “Jet owes me a favour. I call dibs on you.”

  Curling my lip in disgust, I turn away from him once more. I’d sooner allow them to kill me before they pass me around like a fucking rag doll.

  The sun is starting to set as we pull up into what looks like an industrial estate and come to a stop beside a nondescript warehouse.

  “What is this place?”

  “If Jet wanted you to know, he’d have given you the address himself, don’t you think?”

  The front two get out before opening the back doors from the outside.

  Before I even get a chance to move, a hand wraps tightly around my upper arm and I’m hauled out and to my feet.

  “This way.”

  His fingers bruise as he drags me along behind him, my feet unable to keep up with his pace while the guy beside him carries the bag Zach gave me.

  I’m pushed through a doorway and then dragged down a hallway until the very last door.

  The minute the second guy swings it open, I’m not too gently thrown through it.

  “Ow. Fucking cunt,” I scream as I land on my hands and knees with a thud. Pain jolts through my kneecaps and up my arms, but I refuse to show these motherfuckers any kind of weakness, so I suck it down and stand, brushing myself off as I do.

  In the centre of the huge office is a massive walnut desk with none other than Jet sitting behind it. He’s leaning back in his chair with his feet up on the wood, like he hasn’t got a care in the world.

  The goon dumps the bag on his desk before shoving me toward the empty chair and pushing on my shoulder until I have no choice but to sit opposite.

  “Well, well, well, what do we have here?” Jet sings in his slimy, puke-inducing voice.

  He unzips the bag and peers inside.

  His brows rise, but he doesn’t say anything.

  My lips remain sealed. It shouldn’t matter to him where it came from. It’s there, and my debt is paid. Deal done.

  “You think this is the end?” he asks, almost like he can hear my thoughts.

  “It’s all there. The whole amount. We’re done now,” I state.

  He chuckles, and it makes the ball of dread sitting in my stomach grow. “You really think your darling mummy only owed me money? Oh no, no. After I cut her off, she made me a deal. One that would keep paying over and over.” I swallow my apprehension, my hands beginning to tremble.

  “No,” I spit. “She wouldn’t.”

  “Oh, but she did. And I’m cashing in. So, thanks for the money,” he says, pushing the bag from the desk as if it’s nothing more than a bag of rubbish. He drops his feet to the floor and stands, rounding the corner with his eyes trained on me.

  “You’re mine now, Kassie. I gave your mother an endless supply to do with as she saw fit, and in return, I get her daughter.”

  An evil smile curls at his lips, and I bolt—only he’s expecting it, and his arms wrap around me from behind, pinning my arms to my sides and putting a halt to any fight I might have in me.

  “We’re going to have so much fun. And then I know my boys are desperate for a go.” One of his hands grasps my chin, and I’m forced to look at his henchmen who are standing guard by the door, their sick eyes undressing me. “What do you think, boys? Worth the wait?”

  My stomach turns over as Jet lifts my shirt, pulls out a pocket knife and slices through the thin bit of fabric holding my bra cups together, then slicing through my shirt like it’s made of nothing more than tissue.

  The fabric falls away from my breasts, but I refuse to react and give this prick the satisfaction of knowing he’s getting to me.

  “You just love putting on a show, don’t you? I watched you at the
club, you know. That little school girl uniform used to get me going just right. So innocent, yet so dirty. Knowing all those men were watching turned you on, didn’t it?”

  I twist my head from where he’s breathing in my ear, keeping my lips sealed.

  “Just like you’re going to enjoy it when I fuck you with them watching, waiting their turn to break you in for the rest of my boys.”

  Before I know what’s happening, his hand is pushing at the waistband of my jeans. The shock of his touch forces me to react before I’ve even realised I said anything.

  “No,” I scream, bucking against him.

  “I love it when they fight. It makes the prize so much sweeter.”

  “Get your fucking hands off me.” I slam the heel of my boot down into his foot.

  “Fucking bitch,” he grunts, his grip on me tightening. The guys watching our exchange only get more excited, their eyes are dark with hunger, their fists clenched at their sides.

  I thrash about the best I can in the hope of somehow getting away from this, from the inevitable.

  Somehow, he manages to manoeuvre me so that my back is flat against his desk with both of my hands in one of his much bigger ones, pinning them above my head.

  “Fighting won’t get you anywhere with me, sweetheart.”

  The coolness of his blade connects with the soft skin of my cheek before he runs it down over my jaw, my neck, and between the valley of my breasts.

  His dark, hungry eyes stare down at me as bile rises up my throat.

  All my years with this shitty life, and it’s when I’m almost free that this happens. I’ve had friends who were raped by scumbags from the age of twelve, but somehow, I managed to escape. I guess fate had bigger ideas for me. It saved me from the drugged-up arseholes from the squats and handed me straight to the devil himself.

  The blade circles my navel and I have to fight not to move for fear of it plunging straight into my stomach.

  The thin fabric of my jeggings is no task for the knife, and the second he tucks it under the waistband I feel the material loosen.